“How long do I have before he gets here?” I ask instead of answering.
“I’d say an hour.”
“Right, so enough time for me to get a new identity and disappear?” I joke.
“There’s nowhere you could run that he wouldn’t find you. Your parents love you.” My grandfather gives me a hard look. “Don’t go running away to anywhere that isn’t McKinley owned.”
“Good thing there’s plenty of those then. I have choices,” I sass. Having the last name McKinley opens a lot of doors. It also closes a lot of others. The thing is, I don’t deserve any of the wealth or the advantages that come with it. I’ve done nothing to earn this. I was simply born into it.
“Eat.” My grandfather points at the food.
I’m not really hungry but I pick at my plate, because if I don’t attempt to eat it, I’ll only get more scrutiny. “Thanks.”
“Anytime, sweetheart. You are going to be okay, Zara,” he says.
“I don’t know. This might just be the thing that gets me fed to the pigs.” I smirk.
“That would never happen and you know it,” my grandfather tells me.
It’s a running joke that my dad feeds his enemies, or really anyone who crosses him, to his pigs. He got the habit from his Uncle Josh. I’ve never seen evidence to suggest there’s any truth behind the claims. Also, my dad does like to keep me nicely wrapped up in cotton wool, so nothing bad in this world can ever touch me.
I love my parents, and I’m grateful for them. I just wish I could shake this feeling of not being good enough, the constant doubt, the sadness that threatens to drown me. I can’t let them see my issues, though, which is why I do everything I can to put on a smile and carry on like everything is fine.
When the front door opens and heavy footsteps echo through the house, I know my dad is here.
“Zara McKinley, you better have a damn good reason for having me fly around the fucking country to collect you.” His voice is loud as he comes to a stop in the dining room.
I can’t look at him. The guilt eats at me. I shouldn’t have run. I just didn’t know what else to do. I needed an escape. “I’m sorry,” I whisper, keeping my eyes averted to the ground.
“Right, I’m heading out. Make sure you stop in and see your mother while you’re here, Dominic,” my grandfather says before he disappears.
My dad kneels in front of me, his fingers cup my chin, and he pushes my face upwards until my eyes meet his. I can feel the tears welling up, but I take a deep breath and try to hold them back.
“What happened?” he asks, his tone a lot softer now.
“I don’t know,” I admit.
“Okay, let’s try this then. Why are you smoking weed? And at school, of all places?” he presses.
I knew the school would have called him. It wasn’t smoking weed that got me expelled, though. “I was in the bathroom and I overheard some girls saying shit about me. I snapped. I came outof the stall and pushed one of them. The other one, I hit. A few times,” I explain, because I can’t tell him the reason I’m smoking weed. That’s not a conversation I want to have with my parents.
I smoke to try to escape my thoughts. I’m not entirely sure it’s all that helpful. I was fourteen when I first tried weed. I remember the day as vivid as if it were yesterday. We were at a gala, some fundraiser my mum was involved in. I found Ares De Bellis hiding out on a balcony. He had a joint and offered it to me. Of course I took it, because I wasn’t going to look anything but cool in front of Ares.
He has an effect on me that no one else ever has. It’s something I refuse to acknowledge or let show. I can’t do anything about it, because I know if I did, he’d either reject me, which would not be great for my mental state, or he wouldn’t and then he’d figure out just how fucked up I am.
“Good. Fuck that school, Zara. You are a McKinley and you don’t ever have to turn a blind eye when someone disrespects you,” Dad says. “I’ve already enrolled you into Prahran High. You start tomorrow.”
“Public school? You’re sending me topublic school?” My eyes widen.
It’s not because I’m opposed to it, but my parents have always fought my desire to go to that school. I stopped asking two years ago when it was evident they were never going to let me. I’ve always gone to private, all-girls schools.
I wanted to go to Prahran public because that’s wherehegoes. Ares. But that was years ago, when my crush on him was at an all-time high. Now, I do everything I can to avoid seeing him. We can’t be at the same school. He’s going to figure it out. He’s going to be able to tell I’m not okay.
Ares has a way of looking at me as if he can see right through my façade, and I fear if he looks long enough, he just might actually be able to.
“Yep, it’s where you wanted to go, right? Come on. Let’s go see your grandmother so I can get you home. Your mother is beside herself with worry, by the way,” Dad says, adding to my already enormous guilt.
“Sorry,” I mumble, following him out of my grandmother’s beach house.
