Page 3 of The Blackmail of Denise Randall

THE GRADUATION

“Now we would like to hear a few words from the class Valedictorian, Denise Randall.” Mrs. Wake’s voice echoes around the football field. A gentle night breeze blows, and I pray it remains light. Knowing my luck, though, it’ll blow my dress up or send my note cards flying. As I slowly walk toward the stage, that’s at center field, my heels sink into the soft ground. It had rained this morning but tradition insisted we still hold the graduation ceremony outside. A tornado would have to come through bringing a raging storm before Lumberton High held an indoor graduation ceremony. My lovely classmates cheer me on as I walk past them.

“Cheat.”

“Slut.”

“What a scam.”

“Good luck princess.”

“Don’t have a panic attack now, Randall.”

“What’s the going rate to become Valedictorian?”

With my head held high, I ignore all the words of encouragement from my fellow graduates and keep placing one foot in front of the other. Their cheap shots don’t bother me, much. I’ve gotten used to them over the past three years. I started having panic attacks my freshman year. Isabella Jamerson turned all of our friends against me, and made her sole goal in life to humiliate me. Around the same time my oldest brother, Trent, announced he was going to be a father. But my brother didn’t just announce he was going to be a father. Nope.

Nothing is ever that simple with my family. Trent announced he was the father of Rachel Abernathy’s baby. Why was this a big deal? Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because Rachel had been my other brother, Landon’s supposed girlfriend. We didn’t even have time to fully recover from Landon’s death before that bomb dropped. But right before all that, my sister Alice, who’d been kidnapped, appeared after being gone for seventeen years.

You’d think, after everything my family has been through, my peers would have sympathy for me, but nobody does when you’re part of one of the richest families in town.

The Jamerson family, at one time, were our closest allies but now they despise us as well. That family is made up of Patrick, Kamila, Luke, and Isabelle Jamerson. Luke had a thing for Alice, and then got into a fight with Landon, where they both fell over a bridge and died. Isabelle, Luke’s baby sister, then took out all her grief and anger on me, leading to my descent into social exile and making high school a hellish experience.

So, no, I didn’t want to give a speech tonight. I didn’t want to stand on stage in front of all these assholes pretending we were a united class and that I’d miss Lumberton. Quite frankly, I didn’t evenwant to be here.

However, when I expressed my desire to at least not give a speech, my parents’ faces fell. Those looks made me retract my decision, but it didn’t change the fact that I didn’t want to be here. The slurs continue as I walk forward. A foot slides out in to my path, but this isn’t my first time avoiding their devious actions. I simply walk around it, without missing a step.

I didn’t cheat my way to the top of my class. I’m still a virgin because I’m terrified that if I did end up sleeping with a guy, it would only be as a sick joke or he’d record it to broadcast it to the world. Panic attack? They’d love that. They’d love to see me crumble on that stage, but I won’t give their words that kind of power over me. Fortunately, I’ve taken two little pills that shield me from their disdain. Nothing they say will break through my happy haze. It’s almost like I’m not even here. Almost. And when the fog clears, I might take another one. Maybe smuggle some booze from Mom’s cabinet and sneak off someplace to drink.

“Thank you, Mrs. Wake.” I give the audience a dazzling smile. They may hate me, but they’ll never see me fall apart. I’ve not done anything wrong, and I refuse to be blamed for anything my parents or siblings have done. I’m not them. I’m me. And even though I’m not entirely sure who I am because I’m constantly putting on a show in public and being suffocated by hovering parents who watch me but don’t see me, I’m still not any other Randall sibling. I’m Denise Randall,

“Congratulations graduates! Today truly is a special day and I am honored to share it with all of you.”

Lies. All lies. But I’ve been lying for so long now, I no longer know what’s the truth.

After dinner with my family, I tiptoe to the den and find my mother’s not-so-secret stash of alcohol. Swiping a six pack, I drive to one of my father’s construction sites. He’s working on a new house—or more like a mansion. I love to see the houses before they’re finished. I like to walk through them and try to imagine how they’ll decorate and spend their days once the house is complete. I also like to go late at night, sit in an unfinished room, and drink or smoke a joint. Sitting in the still of the night with nothing but bare walls and the stars. Much like these houses, I’m still a work-in-progress and just as empty inside. They give me a sliver of hope that maybe someday, I’ll be complete too.

I park my graduation present, a brand-new bright red BMW, to the side of the site. I walk over the roped lines and little flags, then around mounds of dirt to get to what’s going to be the back door. The smell of wood comforts me as soon as I enter. It takes me back to a simpler time. One where I was naïve about how cruel people could be. Before when I was blissfully unaware of anything happening around me, and I’d come to the sites to watch Daddy and his crew build ‘castles.’ There would be nothing, and then in a matter of days, my dad had turned his vision into a reality. It was exciting. Now, even as alone and depressed as I feel, walking through these beams and smelling fresh cut wood, my heart feels a little lighter. A sense of pride for the Randall name.

Carefully, I begin climbing the tall and winding staircase that doesn’t have any rails yet. Instead of stopping at the second floor, I go up to the third. I want to get to the very top where I can feel the fresh air, see the stars, and be high above, just alone in my thoughts. It’s the best I can do right now as far as being away from the world.

When I was a little girl, Daddy would let me come to the houses and pretend to be a princess in a tower. Waiting for someone to come rescue me. When I became a teenager, in an act of rebelliousness, I’d come out here at night. Waiting, once again, for someone to come find me. Now, I come out here to be alone. I pray no one comes searching for me. I need a moment to numb myself before I have to put my mask back in place. Up high and concealed in the shadows where nobody can see me, but I can see them.

My feet crunch under sawdust, a few zip ties and other discarded items from the workers. A door is ajar at the end of the hall. I open it completely and the view takes my breath away. The room is large and spacious with the start of an impressive balcony. The moon shines right through the window hole. It’s perfect. I can’t go through the doorframe because taped plastic blocks my way, so I head over to the large picture window that has some plastic attached only at the top and is slightly moving from the light breeze.

Leaning over the window, I place my six-pack of Jack Daniel’s Downhome Punch outside the window onto the concrete slab of the balcony with a clank, and then hoist my left leg up and over, while holding on to the frame. The window is up higher than I realized for my foot. I grip the window frame as I turn my body to slide both of my legs down as my dress gathers around my waist. Luckily, this is a new subdivision, so there’s no neighbors. Or so I thought. Two large hands latch on to my bare hips, and I release a scream. My fight or flight instincts kick in, and I try to pull myself back through the window.

“Shh, it’s alright. I’m just helpin’ you down before you fall and roll off the ledge.” It’s a male voice. I try to kick against the mystery man, but his grip only tightens. “It’s okay! It’s okay! I’m not gonna hurt ya.” Damn right you’re not. I put as much strength into my right leg as possible and kick. “Oh shit! Hey, you’re gonna kick me off. There’s no rails!”

“Good,” I grunt. “What are you doing here? You’re trespassing!”

“I could say the same to you.”

“My father owns the construction company that’s in charge of this site. We might even own the land, I’m honestly not sure on that.”

“Denise?”

Him speaking my name gives me a moment to pause. Who is this?

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