Halfway Perfect (29 page)

January 12, 8:00 a.m.

“How are you this morning?”

I toss my towel, pajamas, and bathroom supplies onto my desk and glance at Steph, who's tangled up in her covers and barely awake. She stayed up until three this morning listening to me talk and cry and basically tell her everything that surfaced after Alex talked to me yesterday. I honestly don't think I could have picked a better roommate and I don't think I've ever, in my entire life, been surrounded by such supportive people. But the fact that I can't change the past, that I can't help seeing myself as the stupid girl who spent two years blaming herself for what happened with Wes, means it's going to take more than one night to fix me.

“I'm doing okay,” I tell Steph finally. “I'm going for a walk. I haven't taken a picture of anything since before finals, and I need to get back on the horse, you know?”

She rolls out of bed and digs through the bottom drawer of her dresser, handing me a bag from Macy's. “It's your Christmas present. I didn't get a chance to get it before I went home.”

I open the shopping bag and find a gray knit scarf, gloves, and hat that match my gray and black coat perfectly. I've been relying on stuffing my hands in my pockets and wearing my hair down to keep my ears warm.

“Thanks, Steph. I needed these.”

She looks extremely pleased with herself as I remove the tags and bundle up for my walk outside.

It's cold, but the sun is out and it helps me tolerate the temperature. I wander through a few sections of Central Park before settling on Belvedere Castle. My camera is around my neck, but I don't pick it up yet; instead I watch for inspiration. There's a group of middle-school-aged kids in uniforms and another group of elementary-school-aged kids in regular clothes. I spot a few older people, some middle-aged adults taking dozens of pictures and wearing their tourist staples.

My gaze ends up following a little girl with a curly, blond ponytail, ribbons in her hair, and a brown-and-pink jacket. She looks about four or five years old, and she's tugging the hand of a man who's probably in his mid-thirties. Like the little girl, he's extremely well dressed—polished shoes and dress pants. They aren't poor and they don't look like tourists, possibly Upper East Siders.

I lean against the castle wall and start watching the girl and the man through my camera lens.

“Daddy, look! The top is where the princess gets locked up by the evil queen,” the girl says, pointing up at the highest part of the castle.

I zoom in on the man's face and see him grin broadly when the little girl turns to see his reaction to her statement about the princess and the queen. The second she turns back around, his smile fades. It's like he's aged ten years.

I snap a few shots of the girl. Her nose is red from the cold, and after she wipes it several times on her sleeve, Dad pulls a Kleenex from his pocket and wipes her runny nose despite the fact that she tries to wiggle away. He keeps smiling at her, and when she takes off running to see over the other side, his face falls again.

My lens is now zoomed in on him, and, at the same time, I'm trying to remember being four or five years old. Even with my trailer park home and negligent parents, there was always a game to be played or a show to watch or something to make life fun. I didn't have knowledge of grown-up problems. Not until maybe third or fourth grade when I started to figure things out.

I shift my camera to the teachers leading the field trips, and even though they are both a similar age to the little girl's dad, they don't look nearly as troubled. I turn back to him and snap some pictures from several different angles. And then I'm wondering what kind of life event could happen to this man that he couldn't explain to a four- or five-year-old. And he had to wear a mask every time she turned to look at him. Did he get caught cheating on his wife and now the girl's mom is going to leave him and take custody of the child? Did Grandma die and he hasn't figured out how to tell her yet? Did he lose his job? Is the girl's mom sick?

Whatever his story is, he doesn't want to tell her because she'll age ten years too. Events in my life made me feel twenty-five at fifteen, and no girl should have to miss those years. But I did. And I think how I'd love to go back and fix everything, not let myself fall in love with Wes Danes. He's left so many scars on me, a few I didn't even realize I had until yesterday. But the girl I was when I came to Columbia, when I first met Alex, that girl was good enough to cause someone like Alex Evans to make all kinds of sacrifices to help. I gave him an easy out and he wouldn't take it.

The things in my past are awful things, but would I still be me if I hadn't experienced that life? Without that life, would I be someone who could take photographs good enough to catch the attention of Janessa Fields and the Mason Scholarship committee? Would I be someone with enough drive and motivation to get into Columbia?

I'm honestly not sure that I would have any of that. Maybe the only way forward is to simply move forward, one half-step at a time. Maybe the struggles I'm going to face trying to keep myself in school and trust Alex enough to let him into my life will take me further up that ladder and I'll look back on those hardships and figure out how to appreciate them as well.

I head back outside toward my dorm. I feel lighter and so relieved to have that over and to focus on what to do next. To keep myself here at this beautiful campus.

I cross through the middle of two buildings and stop right in my tracks. For the first time in years, I let myself truly breathe, stop thinking and worrying, because it's going to be okay. Even if I have to transfer somewhere cheaper or take classes part time and work part time, the hole isn't so big I can't dig my way out. It's manageable. My life is manageable.

It's not until I get back to my room and pull the photos up on my laptop that I realize nearly every picture I took this morning is a whole image.

January 12, 12:30 p.m.

Janessa Fields just stares at me, completely shocked, and I wonder if this is the first time she's ever been speechless. From what I've seen of Janessa, she seems to have an opinion on just about everything.

I'm in her office, and I've just finished telling her the entire, and I do mean
entire
, Eve Castle/Wes Danes story. Eve will probably never speak to me again after finding this out, but I promised her I'd figure out how to get Wes fired. I have no idea what Janessa will do with this information, but who else can I trust in the industry?

Janessa rubs her eyes and sighs. “I had no idea, honestly. I thought she was doing well and then…and I can't believe I didn't see the signs after the way he cornered her at the CK shoot. But I thought she changed her mind about school and her career and wanted to use Wes to get back into modeling.”

“Well, she did want to use Wes, but that was only because—” I stop before saying the truth out loud. It was only because she wasn't allowed on set at Janessa's jobs and that started the chain reaction of her losing her chance at the scholarship and all the other shit that went down.

Janessa seems to pull herself together, not wanting to dwell on what has already happened. “And you think something is going on with Wes and Elana?”

“I don't know what, but something has happened. And he has no reason to be spending time one-on-one with her. He's not even Elana's agent.” I let out a breath. “I know this is probably not something you want to get involved with, and I know you've got contracts and bridges into the fashion industry that you don't want to burn, but I didn't know who else to talk to and I feel like Eve's counting on me. And if I can't help her, then she isn't going to trust me, and what if she goes back to thinking that the Wes thing was partially her fault—”

Janessa holds up her hand to stop me. “Alex, I'm not like everyone else in this industry. Yes, I'm here to make money. But I have many, many lines I'm not willing to cross, and if they want me bad enough, which they usually do, then I get to do things my way. First off, don't worry about Eve's school next year. I can give her a paying assistantship. Had I known it was such a dire situation, I would have done that sooner, but I wanted to treat her like a student. She's proven herself worthy of getting an assistant's salary. Her idea for a picture is going on the giant Calvin Klein billboard. She's good. She's incredibly talented.”

I let out a breath, so relieved already. “Okay, so no worries about school, then?”

“It's only January, Alex,” Janessa says. “She's got plenty of time to figure out a plan for next fall. Eve has some good people in her life. All she has to do is let them help her.”

“And Wes?” I ask wearily.

“Get me one piece of evidence or a statement from Elana saying that Wes acted inappropriately and I'll have him fired,” Janessa says, causing my heart to sink all the way down to my stomach. There might not even be any evidence to get, and if there is, why would Elana give it to me?

Then she starts to explain her plan, and for the first time since cornering Eve after that
Cosmo
shoot yesterday, I'm thinking that maybe, just maybe, this might actually work.

After I leave Janessa's office, I pull out my phone and call Eve. “Hey, have you talked to Elana yet?”

Eve lets out a sigh that I can hear so clearly through the phone, I know the answer already.

“No, I've thought about it—”

“It's okay,” I interrupt. “I've been thinking about it too, and I think we should do it together. You know, because we've both heard different things from her and gotten different hints.”

“That would be great,” Eve says, sounding relieved, which makes me equally relieved. “I don't want to team up on her or anything, but I could really use the support, to be honest.”

“Are you busy now? I'll text her and see where she's at and then let you know where to meet, okay?”

“I'm not busy now, but I have a shoot at two,” she says.

“Where?” I ask. She tells me the shoot location. “Perfect. That's not too far from Elana's building.”

After hanging up with Eve, I text Elana and ask her if she's working. She replies right away, saying she's at home, so I tell Eve to meet me there in thirty minutes.

• • •

January 12, 2:00 p.m.

“Eve!” Elana says when she opens the door. “I didn't know both of you were coming over.”

Eve gives her a tight smile and then glances at me, waiting for my brilliant explanation. Eve already looks pale, like she's ready to barf any second. I don't blame her. We basically had this same chat with each other yesterday and who wants to rehash their horrible past two days in a row?

I wait until Elana lets us in and shuts the door before answering her silent question about why we're both here. “We have something we want to talk to you about. It's kind of important.” I glance around. “Is anyone else here?”

Elana's eyes are wide with alarm, but she shakes her head.

My fingers fumble for my phone in my pocket. I know Eve would never approve of what I'm about to do, but I'm willing to take that risk.

I carefully place my cell phone on the table along with my keys before sitting down on the couch, trying to make it look like my pockets were just overfilled. Elana warily takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch and Eve is on the love seat, angling herself toward Elana.

Eve opens her mouth to start speaking, and I'm already predicting her slow, graceful maneuvering into the topic at hand and I just know that it's not going to work.

“We know about you and Wes,” I blurt out, cutting Eve off.

Eve narrows her eyes at me like she's afraid I might have ruined everything.

Elana's gaze darts from Eve to me, then back to Eve. “How—I mean, what do you mean?”

Eve swallows hard and lifts a shaking hand to tuck her hair behind her ears. “We know that you have feelings for Wes, and it's just that Alex and I really don't think you should pursue this. We're worried about you.”

“You're worried about me?” Elana folds her arms across her chest, defensive mode clearly turned on. “I don't think either of you would ever understand how much Wes has helped me. I almost quit modeling until he stepped in and gave me the confidence to keep going.” She turns to me, practically glaring. “I know how you think, Alex. I'm a child to you. You don't get it.”

Nausea rolls over me. It's true. I had a feeling, but hearing her practically just admit it comes with a surprising punch.

“Neither of us thinks you're a child,” Eve says gently. I glance at Eve and lift an eyebrow. Now's the time to speak up. Eve takes a deep breath and continues. “And honestly, Elana, I do understand, a lot more than you realize.”

It's not easy for me to sit there and listen to Eve tell Elana about hooking up with Wes when she was fifteen or how he was nice and helpful and took care of her and then slowly he turned more controlling and angry and abusive. I can't look at Eve while she's talking, so I watch Elana's face. She sits there not moving or speaking. I can tell she's surprised but also unwilling to admit it.

When Eve's voice gets shaky as she tells the worst parts, I have to close my eyes and take a slow deep breath to force the images of me strangling Wes from my mind.

“I should have told you sooner,” Eve says, finally reaching the end of her story. “But there were so many things I hadn't even figured out for myself until recently.”

Elana looks near tears, but she's shaking her head. “He's not like that anymore. Maybe he just went through a rough time or something, or maybe it's different with me.”

“He's twenty-seven, Elana. You're fifteen,” Eve points out, keeping her voice gentle and not at all critical.

A tear escapes Elana's eye and rolls down her cheek. She wipes it away quickly. “In France it's different. The culture is different. We don't have the same age stigmas that you have in America.”

Eve nods like she's trying to be understanding and patient. And I'm literally getting more anxious and impatient by the second.

“I get that it might be different for you, but even with the age thing aside, Wes has a track record of being abusive, and those kinds of behaviors don't just go away,” I say, trying to get to the point quicker.

“How do I even know you're telling the truth?” Elana snaps at Eve. “What if you made up that stuff about him just to keep me away, or make it sound worse than it is?”

Eve flinches like Elana just slapped her. I think having someone not believe her story has always been a fear of Eve's.

I decide it's time for me to intervene again and take over. “In America, it's illegal, assuming you've slept with him already.”

Eve glares in my direction, her mouth practically hanging open.

“I knew you wouldn't get it!” More tears fall down Elana's face, and she stands up like she's about to run from the room. “It's not like that and, no, I haven't slept with him, if that makes you feel better.”

It does a little, actually. “But you've gone out with him on a date, right?” I press. “You've kissed him?”

Elana turns her entire body to face me and she looks so pissed off. “I've kissed
you
! I've gone on dates with
you
! You and I aren't the same age.”

“True,” I say, digging for the facts Brad spouted off to me last month. “But technically it's not illegal for us to be together like that, even if everyone knew you're only fifteen. There's not more than four years difference between us.”

I give her a second to argue with me and then I continue. “And you knew what you were getting into with me. I made it clear that I didn't feel that way about you. I made it clear that we were just acting.”

“Exactly,” Elana says. “And Wes isn't acting. He actually cares about me, as a friend and more.”

“Elana,” Eve says. “Believe me when I say that I understand how you feel and I'm absolutely the last person to judge you—”

I let out a frustrated breath. This isn't going anywhere. “So he did kiss you?” I ask again. “When you went to see that Broadway show, right?”

“I hate you. You were lying when you said we could be friends.” Elana turns to face me. “Yes. He kissed me, and yes, we went to a show together and you can call that a date and tell whoever you want, because to the world, I'm eighteen and it's not illegal and there's nothing either of you can do about that.”

With that, Elana takes off for her bedroom and slams the door.

“What the hell was that, Alex?” Eve hisses at me. “I thought the goal was to help her.”

“Change of plans.” I snatch my phone and keys off the table.

“Are we on different planets right now? How the fuck was that even remotely helpful?”

I glance at my phone, checking to see if I got what I needed. “We weren't getting anywhere with her. It was obvious she'd just keep defending herself.”

“What the hell is so important on your phone, Alex? God, I thought you were worried about Elana. I never thought talking to her would involve making her hate us.”

“I don't care if she hates me,” I admit.

“Well, I do!” Eve says, standing up and quickly putting her coat back on. “She might need me, and now she's going to lump the two of us together. This was a bad idea.”

I look at Eve and then rest a hand on her arm. “You're going to be really pissed at me in a few minutes, but all I ask is that you let me explain before you take off, okay?”

“You mean more pissed than I already am?”

“I didn't plan on convincing Elana of anything today,” I say. “I just needed to get her to admit that something is going on with her and Wes.”

Comprehension reaches Eve's face and she snatches my phone from my hand, looking it over quickly. “You recorded us? I can't believe you did that? She trusted you. I trusted you!”

I place both hands gently on her arms, hoping she won't try to run off. “Look, Eve, I'd never, ever give your story and your past to anyone without your permission. That's not why I did this. I'll edit out your part. And I don't care if Elana trusts me or not; she's fucking fifteen. The last thing she needs is for us to treat her like an adult. She has a crush on Wes, and it's so serious that nothing we say would ever convince her that he's bad news. Nothing. And I refuse to watch her learn that for herself. If she were five years older, this would be a completely different story. I don't care how mature you think Elana is, she has no fucking clue what the hell is best for her. If we really care about her, we'll use whatever method we have to make sure she's okay. Even if she never likes us again.”

Eve is shaking her head, not even close to being on the same page as me.

“My sister is Elana's age. I'd rather she hated me for the rest of her life then let her fall into a relationship where someone is going to hurt her and manipulate her. It sucks, but what choice do we have?”

“Anything but tricking her!”

“Listen—”

“No. Not now.” She slams the phone back into my hand and takes a deep breath. “I can't do this right now. I have a job that I desperately need to keep, and I'm going to be late.”

Eve takes off, and I don't stop her because the last thing I want is for her to miss a call time and get fired from a job. As much as I hate to leave Elana alone, the better solution is to get this evidence to Janessa as soon as possible. I head out a couple of minutes after Eve and walk the few blocks to my building. When I'm safely in my room, I upload the recording I made at Elana's to my laptop and then email it to Janessa, just like she told me to do earlier. An agonizing hour later, a number listed as
Unknown
pops up on my cell phone, and I pick it up right away, assuming it's Janessa.