“It’s what everyone is thinking, Mom.”
Tommy steps in. “Abby, try to stay calm. She’s right. We all thought it, and we all pray that never happens.” He turns to face me. “You seem better. More sure of yourself. You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you? You have that same stubborn look Gracie always gets.”
“Yes, I have. It feels like the right thing to do.”
Garrett says, “We’ll figure this all out. If you go to boarding school, which I think is an excellent idea, you can’t go as yourself. Mr. Moran,” he turns to Damian’s dad, “you can’t even tell your friend who she really is. You can't tell anyone who you are, Keatyn. Not only can you not use your phone, but I also want a list of all your social media profiles and passwords. We’ll change your passwords, so you won’t be tempted to get on, and we’ll monitor them.”
“Got it. No phone. No social media. So who am I going to be?”
“Keatyn Monroe,” Mom says. “That was my great grandma’s maiden name. That’s what I almost named you. Monroe Douglas. But Keatyn Monroe sounds better, don’t you think?”
“That’s a good name,” Millie says. “I like it.”
Garrett adds, “And you’ll need a cover story. A backstory. You're going to have to tell people lies about who you are. That's the hard part. In these situations, we find the more we can leave about you that’s true, the easier it will be to lie about who you are.”
I set the computer back on my lap and click through more pictures.
Students at football and soccer games. Students in classrooms. The gorgeous old buildings. It looks like a nice, safe place.
I click on the school’s calendar.
“We’re gonna have to do all this pretty quickly. Orientation is this coming Thursday.”
“Okay,” Mom says. “Do you think we could try and eat some of this food?”
Tommy and James go around the house and double-check every door and window. They already have security surrounding the house.
I pick at some of the food and look out at a guard standing on the deck.
And realize I still don’t feel safe.
Wednesday, August 24th
Click your heels together.
1pm
The last few days have been awful. Damian went back to Europe on Sunday, and I’ve been going stir crazy. They won’t let me leave the house.
Not that I want to.
I’m too afraid.
Cush tried to stop by a couple times, and it breaks my heart to know I’m hurting him. He’s going to hate me, but I don’t want to put him in danger. James told me that Vincent could be watching the house or the guard booth. He already has a photo of me and Cush from before school was out, I don’t want him to think there is anything between us.
The neighbors have started complaining about their guests practically being accosted at the guard booth. I don’t know why security is making such a big deal out of it—we know what Vincent looks like—but Garrett and James both started talking about disguises and hiring someone and all sorts of other ways he could get to me.
I’ve had enough bad dreams lately that I don’t want to listen.
I finally told James that I didn’t care what anyone said, and that I was sitting out on the deck.
I put on a bikini and laid out in one of the chaises.
I closed my eyes and pretended I was somewhere else. Brooklyn has been scarce. He’s been busy packing, since he leaves tomorrow too. His first tournament is in Zarautz, Spain. One of the places we visited this summer.
Normally when I lay out, I listen to music, doze off, and have a nice little daydream, but instead of daydreaming about boys and kisses, I’m envisioning spy movies. A sniper who takes out the two guards next to me with barely a sound. Cables dropping from a stealth helicopter and a team of black-suited ninjas on our roof. They move silently through the house, taking out the rest of the security detail. Then the door to my bedroom bursts open. They’ve killed everyone else; no need to be subtle now. One of them rips off his black outfit. Underneath is Vincent in a black Armani suit, black shirt, and black shoes, his dark hair slicked back. He grins at me, grabs my wrist, and says, Perfection. We’ll make perfection together.
I wake up with a start, leave the deck as quickly as I can, go to Tommy’s study, and flip open his computer.