Page 54 of The Other Half

“That won’t be necessary,” Dad says. “I’ve paid Angelwood a lot of money over the years, the least they could do is accept my daughter. That’s where you’re going.”

“Dan,” Mom says in a low voice, suddenly shooting daggers at him.

“What?” I ask, confused. “You…paid for me to get in?”

“I never said that,” he says angrily. “I’ve donated a lot of money to them by choice, just like many other alumni do. I’m just saying it didn’t hurt your chances.”

I shake my head. Of course, how else could I get into a school like that with my average grades and lack of extracurriculars? “I’m not going. I didn’t even earn the acceptance.” I toss the letter carelessly onto the kitchen table.

“You will go,” he orders, slamming his fist on the marble countertop. “I’m sick of you thinking you get to do whatever the hell you want, Oakley.”

“Well, I am an adult.”

“It doesn’t matter. You live under my roof. If you want to keep acting this way I’ll just cut you off and you can work your way through college.”

“Do it, then,” I challenge, shrugging my shoulders.

“Both of you, stop,” my mom pleads, resting her hand on Dad’s arm.

“She needs to understand reality, Denise.” He pushes her hand away harshly. “If she wants to enjoy the luxuries that we provide her, she can’t keep making bad choices.”

“I made one bad choice. And I’ve apologized over and over for it.”

“Wrong. You’ve been making bad choices ever since you started going to that Godforsaken school filled with miscreants.” He scrubs his hand down his face. “I won’t have a daughter that ends up barefoot and pregnant by some hillbilly.”

“Dan, you know she wouldn’t do that. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“You think I’m the ridiculous one?” he yells, grabbing her arm aggressively.

“Don’t touch her like that!” I yell.

He releases her and spins around, before I can react the back of his hand is smacking my face, much harder than the last time.

“DAN!” My mother screams in horror, but he ignores her completely.

“You have two options. Go to Angelwood, where we’ve planned for you to go for the past four years, or get a job and pay for your own education.”

I swallow, wincing at the pain in my eye. He stalks out of the kitchen without another word. I look up at Mom, she’s covering her mouth with her hands in disbelief. I guess she wasn’t expecting it to escalate that much.

She walks over and pulls me into her arms. She holds me for a moment in silence, both of us unsure what to say next.

“That will never happen again,” she whispers, and a quiet sob escapes her as she buries her face in my hair.

Chapter 42

Oliver

I keep scrolling through our messages from Saturday night. The guilt is just about eating me alive.

I never wanted to take advantage of her or lead her on. Those were the main things I wanted to avoid from the beginning, but now I can’t even pretend that I haven’t done both. This girl that I wanted so badly to protect from harm, I’ve ended up hurting even worse in the process. Now I’m sure she thinks I was only interested in her for sex, which couldn’t be further from the truth.

I don’t know whether to apologize or just leave her alone for good. I still love her, I never stopped, even when I was pretending to hate her. I rack my brain for a solution but I come up dry. No matter what I do, she’s still moving away in less than a year, and if her dad finds out we’re still contacting each other he’ll find a way to get my brother fired. I feel completely defeated, there’s no right answer.

It’s the last day of school before Christmas break and I’m relieved, every day in art class I have to force myself not to look her way. I have to pretend I don’t give a single shit about her when it couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m glad I’ll have two weeks away from this place and the stress that comes with it.

I walk into class and find a seat in the front of the room. I hate sitting in the front, but she always sits in the back so it’s the easiest way to avoid seeing her. I still sneak glances at her occasionally, because I can’t help myself, but I don’t allow myself the luxury of staring at her.

I turn around and catch a glance of her entering the room. She looks different. Her hair looks lank and messy, like she forgot to brush it this morning. My gaze suddenly snags on her face. There’s a faint purple ring around her left eye, and it’s slightly swollen. I feel stomach bile start to rise into my throat, and I clench my fists.

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