Defending Taylor (Hundred Oaks #7) (17 page)

• • •

“You seem distracted.”

“I am,” I tell the guidance counselor. After I told her how things are getting better at soccer and it’s a lot more fun now, we spent most of this period going over my essays and application for Yale. But my life still feels weird. I twine and untwine my fingers.

“What’s wrong?” Miss Brady asks.

“I’ve been thinking…”

“Go on,” she encourages.

“I hate math. Why would I major in business?”

“Isn’t that what people in your family do?”

“Yes, but it’s not what I want.”

A smile blooms on Miss Brady’s face. “So what do you want then?”

“I’m not totally sure.”

“You should play to your strengths.”

There’s an inspirational poster behind her desk that says
Strength
, but it’s just a picture of Mount Everest. I’ve never understood what those posters are about. “What do you mean, play to my strengths?”

“What are you good at? What do you enjoy?”

I think for a long moment. “Museums.”

“Museums?”

“I love any kind of museum, but my favorite is the National Gallery in Vienna. I could see myself being a curator, but I love art, science, and history equally—I’m not sure how I’d choose. I just like learning.” Miss Brady smiles, so I keep going. “I also love animals…my boyfriend says I should become a vet. I kind of like that idea, but I don’t know that I could handle putting pets to sleep. I just know I’m good at history and that I love museums.”

“Great. Well, I’m glad that you are open to other options.”

“It’s kind of scary though, you know? One time, I told my dad it might be cool to be a museum curator, and he said there’s no money in that.”

Miss Brady looks around at her office, focusing on the patch of wall where the white paint is peeling away. “I could’ve used my psychology degree to work in a fancy practice and make lots of money, but I wanted to work with kids. It’s your life. If you want to live, you need to do what you love.”

I think back to what Ezra said about taking risks. Taking a risk can be scary, but it can also be worthwhile.

Museums are one prize I think I could keep my eyes on. But can I give up my desire to fulfill my family’s expectations?

The election is less than a week away.

The last time Dad was up for reelection, I was eleven years old. Back then, my biggest problem was being freaked out about having to shave my legs and wear a bra on election night. Dad’s campaign managers were constantly trotting me around in front of voters. I brought the
cute factor
.

Now, I’m under orders not to speak to anyone or do anything out of the ordinary for the next seven days, but I wish I could help Dad in some way. He’s barely sleeping. Neither is Mom.

My brother and sister are coming home this weekend to join him for speeches around the state and will stay until after the election on Tuesday. I can’t wait until it’s over, because then I’m going to tell Mom and Dad the truth about what happened at St. Andrew’s. The best thing I can do right now is lay low.

On the Wednesday night before the election, Ezra picks me up for his intramural soccer game. They’re down a man, so I end up playing right forward for them. It is so nice to take shots on goal again. I love just playing to play. When I score a goal, the team lifts me up on their shoulders and parades me around the field, laughing. Ezra grumbles at that, but I’m having a ball.

After the game, he and I grab dinner at Jiffy Burger. I always like going there, because it’s full of trucker guys cursing up a storm. It’s highly entertaining when they say things like, “I had to pull the truck over ’cause my engine got hotter than a billy goat’s ass in a pepper patch.”

When we’re finished eating, Ezra asks if I want to go back to his place.

“I wish I could, but my Yale application is due Friday. I should proofread it a few more times.”

Ezra opens the passenger door of his Range Rover, then helps me inside. He jogs around to his side of the SUV and climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Are you sure about applying there?”

I nod. “It’s what I’ve been working toward forever, Ez.”

“But if you get in early decision, you
have
to go there.” He starts the ignition. “Shouldn’t you take some time to try to figure out what you want?”

“People in my family go to Ivy League schools. My parents expect me to do something important with my life.”

He shakes his head. “You can still do something important even if you don’t go to Yale. Look at Jack Goodwin. His parents were pissed when he started dating somebody who works for him, but his life isn’t over.”

“There’s nothing wrong with me going to Yale, you know.”

“But what’s
right
about it? Tell me one good reason you want to go to there, and I will stop bothering you about this.”

“I don’t understand why you get to press me about my future, but I can’t even suggest you go back to school without you snapping at me to drop it.”

Ezra drums his hands on the steering wheel, agitated. “I just want what’s best for you.”

“That’s all I want for you too.”

I’m so close to telling him I love him.

We ride in silence all the way back to my house, and when we arrive, there’s a familiar-looking silver Jaguar in the driveway. Is that Michael Williamson’s car? We went to school together at St. Andrew’s. I climb out of the Range Rover and move to get a closer look. Sure enough, when I peer in the front window, he’s sitting in the driver’s seat, playing with his phone.

I knock on the window. He rolls it down. “Tee!”

I throw Ezra a nervous glance and shrug. “Michael, hi. What are you doing here?”

“Ben agreed to let me copy his chemistry homework if I gave him a ride. I guess he wants to win you back or something.” He gives Ezra a sly smile. “But something tells me I got the better end of my deal with Ben.”

“How long have you been here?” I rush to ask.

“Five minutes or so.”

My phone beeps in my hand. A text from Mom.
Come home NOW.

Then my phone buzzes.
Dad Calling. Dad Calling.

I gaze up at my house.

Leaving Michael and Ezra behind, I feel as if I’m floating—and not in a good way.

“Tee!” Ezra calls out behind me.

When I reach the front steps, I break into a jog. I crash through the front door.

Marina heads me off in the foyer. “Your parents want to see you in the senator’s office.”

I rush up the stairs and into Dad’s study. The lights are low. Burning wood crackles in the fireplace, snapping under the intense heat.

Ben is standing there, shifting from foot to foot. Mom’s face is redder than a fire extinguisher. Dad has his glasses off and is rubbing his eyes.

“
Taylor Lukens. What have you don
e
?
” Mom says in a low voice. Then it turns into a screech. “Are you out of your goddamned mind?”

Ezra suddenly appears beside me and places his hand on my shoulder. When Ben sees him touching me, the look on his face morphs from pain to torture.

“What’s going on?” Ezra asks, taking in the scene. “Why are you shouting, Mrs. Lukens?”

“Ask Taylor!” Mom yells. “How could you? You’ve ruined your father’s career! And for nothing!”

Ezra pulls me toward him.

Dad still hasn’t said a word.

“What did you do?” I ask Ben.

“I had to tell the truth, Tee.” His words come out in a rush. “I’m sorry. I just had to make things right. Before your father’s election.”

“It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?” Mom snaps. “Polls are down by three points, and the election’s in six days! What good does your little confession do us
now
?”

Ben winces. “I thought maybe if the press knew the truth—”

Ezra’s hand tenses on my shoulder. I can feel his body stiffen.

“The last thing we need is for the press to rehash this,” Mom interrupts. “We need good news, not bad.”

“Dad?” I say with a shaky voice.

He pulls his hand away from his eyes but still won’t acknowledge me.

“Will someone please tell me what’s going on?” Ezra asks.

I turn, place a hand on his chest, and look up at him. “The pills weren’t mine.”

Shock fills his face. It slowly turns to understanding. Then anger.

He lets me go, stalks toward Ben, lifts his hand, and makes a fist.

Ben puts his hands up to protect himself, but he’s too slow. Ezra punches him square in the jaw. Ben stumbles to the side, nearly taking out an antique vase on his way to the hardwood floor. Dad rushes over, pulling Ezra off Ben. Ezra tries to break free from Dad’s arms, but Dad keeps a firm grip.

“Son, stop it,” Dad says to Ezra. “Go sit down.” He jerks his pointer finger at a sofa on the other side of the office. Ben clutches the side of his face, rasping for breath.

“Tee, tell me you’re lying,” Ezra gasps. “Tell me you didn’t cover for this little sh—”

“Ezra,” Dad commands. “Go sit down,
now
.” He turns to me with betrayed eyes. “Taylor, I’d like an explanation.”

“How could you?” Mom cries again, and Dad sighs.

“Donna, please let Taylor speak.”

I square my shoulders and stand up straight. “Ben and I were out in the woods. He brought his backpack. When he left to go to the bathroom, that’s when the dorm mothers found me and thought the pills were mine. I knew that Ben would get kicked out of school, but I thought I’d be fine, Dad…because of who you are.”

Dad hangs his head, disappointed.

“I know now I was wrong. I shouldn’t have tried to use you and your position to get out of trouble.”

“But you wouldn’t have been in trouble!” Dad says. “They weren’t your pills!”

“I know,” I say quietly. “Things got out of hand. I never expected all of this to happen.”

“Well, what did you expect?” Mom asks. “I can’t believe you’d do something so dumb.”

“Stop talking to Taylor like that,” Ezra says, but he looks furious with me. His angry eyes bore into mine. “We said no more secrets.”

“I’m sorry—” I start, but he’s already storming out of the room. “Ezra!” I call. He leaves me alone with the firing squad.

“Mom, Dad, if I had known this would get so crazy, I never would’ve covered for Ben. And I didn’t tell you afterward because I found out Ben was selling the pills, and I thought it would make things worse if people knew I was covering for a drug dealer. I was planning to tell you the truth as soon as the election was over. I knew it wouldn’t do any good right now—”

Dad holds up a hand to quiet me.

“Ben,” Dad says quietly, “thank you for coming to tell us the truth. But I don’t want to see you at my home again. And if you try to contact my daughter, I’ll be asking the police to investigate you.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Please leave.”

Ben gazes over at me with tears in his eyes. He nods once, mouthing
good-bye
, then disappears out the door.

Mom stalks over to Dad’s wet bar and pours herself a scotch. With a shaky hand, she brings the glass to her mouth. She sips, closing her eyes.

We’re all quiet, but Mom interrupts the silence. “This will cost us the election, Edward. You shouldn’t have let St. Andrew’s expel her.”

Dad sits down on the sofa and puts a hand over his face.

“Dad?”

“Go on,” he says softly, gesturing at the door.

“Don’t you want to talk this through?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Not now.”

With tears streaming down my face, I climb the stairs to my bedroom. I doubt my parents will ever look at me the way they used to. Will they ever trust me again?

And what about Ezra? I betrayed him. We promised there wouldn’t be secrets between us, and I kept this from him—from everyone.

I open the door to my room and gasp. He’s sitting on my bed, staring down at his hands. He lifts his head to stare at me.

“Are you kidding me?” Ezra starts. “You’d throw away your future for that asshole? Why? Why didn’t you tell the truth?”

“Ezra—”

“You could do anything you want with your life, and you gave up St. Andrew’s for some loser who didn’t even have the balls to stand up for his own mistake!”

“Things got out of control. I didn’t mean for this to happen—”

“I thought you were better than this.”

“I am—I didn’t want to be a tattletale!”

“You should’ve confronted Ben and told him to fix the situation before it got out of hand! I am so mad at you right now.”

“Ezra—”

“We said no more secrets. That includes the big, dark ones.”

“Now you know everything. We’ve both made mistakes. Please, let’s just get past this, Ezra. Please.”

He drags a hand through his hair and stands. “I need time.”

He strides by me without another word and leaves.

• • •

I’m scared to go downstairs.

Scared to face Mom and Dad.

Scared to read the texts from Oliver and Jenna.

Scared to turn on the news to check the polls.

Scared to go to school.

This feels like that time in elementary school when our parents took us to Six Flags Over Georgia, and Oliver went missing. I ran around searching for him. What if he got kidnapped? What if he fell down a manhole? What if he fell off the Mine Train ride and got trapped in a tunnel?

It turned out he was gorging on ice cream sundaes at Big Mo’s, but my heart didn’t stop racing until we arrived safely home in Franklin that night.

This morning, I wait until I see Dad’s car pulling out of the drive, and then I rush downstairs and out to my car before Mom or Marina can stop me.

I sent Ezra a couple of texts, including one that said
Donut Palace?

No response.

I decide to skip coffee today.

By lunchtime, I’m yawning my ass off thanks to no sleep and no caffeine. I join Chloe and Alyson at a round table and unpack the lunch Marina made for me. Alyson starts chattering about Maya Henry, a musician who graduated from Hundred Oaks last year. Apparently, Maya uploaded a new song she wrote to YouTube last night, and it’s just amazing. I nod in response.

“What’s wrong, Tee?” Chloe asks. She started calling me that after hanging around my brother and Ezra.

I shrug. “My parents and Ezra are pissed at me.”

“How come?” she asks, popping a baby carrot in her mouth.

“I did something super stupid and didn’t fix it when I had the chance…” Since we’ve become close over the past couple months, I take a deep breath and explain what happened to my new friends. Their eyes grow wide at the story, and they both place a hand on my arms, supporting me.

“That sucks,” Chloe says, and Alyson agrees. I’m grateful neither of them judges me for what happened.

“Can we do anything to help?” Alyson asks.

“Distract me,” I reply with a tiny smile.

Alyson tells me how she’s planning to dress up like a sexy train conductor tonight for Halloween. Chloe’s going as a butterfly.

Halloween. I forgot it’s Halloween. I glance around the cafeteria. A bunch of girls are wearing cute mouse ears. One guy has on devil horns. Another is dressed up like Barack Obama. I really must be out of it if I missed all that in my morning classes.

Ezra and I didn’t make plans to go to any parties or anything, but we were going to trick-or-treat in my neighborhood this evening. I figured it would be my last time to do so, since I’m going to college next year and all. I won’t be a kid anymore.

While Chloe chatters away, I check texts under the table to see if Ezra sent anything.
Nada.
With a deep breath, I gather the courage to read the texts from Jenna and Oliver.

Jenna:
Are you under the influence of hot construction worker sex or something? I can’t believe you protected Ben. Ballsy. Stupid, but ballsy.

Oliver’s one-word text:
Seriously?

I start trembling. He must be furious. I excuse myself from the table to go out into the courtyard to call him. At first, I worry he won’t pick up. The phone rings and rings, but finally he answers.

I begin to say hi, but he starts right in on me. “You lied to me. I asked if the drugs were yours, and you said yes.”

“I know.”

“It’s like you cared more about Ben than being honest with me. With your family.”

“That’s not true! The situation just…got out of hand. I never meant for any of this to happen.”