Good

“But I think she was mostly just upset about us not being friends anymore,” I continued.

 

“Grow the fuck up, Cadence,” Avery snapped. “This girl has something on you, and she’s pissed. You’re a moron if you don’t think she’ll tell your parents. Moreover—”

 

“‘Moreover’? I asked.

 

“Yeah, ‘moreover’ you little bitch. Look, it isn’t my fault you two couldn’t control yourselves in public.”

 

“We didn’t do anything!” I cried.

 

“You fought. You let him kiss your cheek, Cadence!”

 

I said nothing.

 

“He held your hand out of the theatre!”

 

“All right,” I barked. “I made a mistake.”

 

There was a brief pause before Avery spoke up. “Did Gracie say anything about me?”

 

My heart clenched immediately. “No.” It was the worst attempt at sounding nonchalant.

 

“What did she say?” Avery asked.

 

“Nothing.”

 

“What did she say, Cadence?” Avery demanded.

 

I took a deep breath. “She thinks you’re a bad influence. She knows we sneak off and do things and use each other as covers!” I blurted.

 

Another brief pause.

 

“Did you tell her?”

 

“I swear to God I didn’t say anything, Avery!”

 

“I’ve gotta go.” It was abrupt. Avery sounded scared.

 

“No, Avery. Please.”

 

“Cadence, I swear to God . . .”

 

 “Please listen to me! I don’t know how she figured it out! I didn’t say a thing.” I started crying. It felt like the natural thing to do.

 

“I’m so dead,” Avery whispered. I barely heard it, but I heard it, and my soft cries turned into full-on sobs. The noise filled the silent space of my bedroom, and I knew I was experiencing the prelude. The opening of a terribly loud, Beethoven-banging symphony where the audience holds its breath throughout the entire song, hoping—praying—for a swift and sudden conclusion. They don’t care how it comes. They just need it to stop their racing hearts. They need it to breathe again. To feel normal again. But it wouldn’t come easily, and it wouldn’t be pretty, and they knew it.

 

“Stop it!” Avery hissed as I cried into the phone. “Let me think!”

 

Think? Think about what? My conclusion was nearing—I could feel them on the other side of the door. They would burst through any second and end my life for being bad. For being deceitful. For being immoral and corrupt and wrong. For being anything but good.

 

“Avery,” I sobbed, and then the knock sounded, and I dropped the phone. It fell with a sudden smack on the hardwoods. I was frozen to my spot on the bed.

 

“Cadence, honey,” Mom said through the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

 

Dinner’s ready. I’m not going to kill you. At least not yet. I don’t know what you’ve done, after all. But I’m sure I’ll find out soon enough. I’ll find you out, Cadence. You can’t keep secrets from me. I’ll discover your deception and make you pay for it. But for now, dinner’s ready. Come on downstairs and eat, sweetheart.

 

***

 

I rounded the corner of the foyer and was greeted by my parents, brother, and Gracie.

 

I froze.

 

Gracie sat on the couch hunched over, crying. Mom was crying. Oliver looked confused. Dad was irate.

 

“Where do I start?” Dad asked me.

 

“What do you mean?” I knew precisely what he meant, but I stalled anyway. I didn’t know what to say, to do. I had no escape plan. I was instantly angry with myself for not having been prepared for this. The two weeks that passed without any incident tricked me into believing that Gracie decided not to tell my parents.

 

“Is it true?” Dad asked.

 

“Is what true?”

 

“Don’t play dumb, Cadence!” he shouted, and I shuddered.

 

My breathing came faster, and I looked over at Gracie. She’d stopped crying. I thought they were crocodile tears anyway. She wasn’t upset that she felt compelled to tell on me. She had been waiting for this moment to ruin the one good thing in my life. It was punishment for my destroying our friendship. She was a bitch. A vindictive bitch. And my alter ego bitch self apparently wasn’t convincing enough to scare her into silence.

 

“Answer my question, Cadence,” Dad said.

 

I nodded. I had no choice.

 

Mom let out a pitiful whimper. Oliver gasped.

 

“What is wrong with you?” Dad asked. It came out as an accusation of the worst kind, like I committed a heinous, perverted crime and needed to be locked away in an insane asylum.

 

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I replied. I tried to be stoic.

 

“Engaging in a relationship with your teacher?” Dad asked. “And there’s nothing wrong with you?”

 

I raised my head in defiance.

 

“Why?” Mom asked. “Why would you do this to us?”

 

“To you?” I screamed. “It’s got nothing to do with you!”

 

“The hell it doesn’t!” Dad replied. “Is this your way of getting back at us for punishing you? Are you really so immature, Cadence?”

 

“I’m not immature!” I cried.

 

Dad took a step towards me then stopped.

 

“Gracie, you need to leave,” he said.

 

She jumped up from the couch and walked past me.

 

“I’m sorry, Cadence,” she whispered.

 

“Yeah, I bet you are,” I replied, and that’s when the first tear fell.

 

When Gracie left, the storm picked up.

 

“What are we supposed to do with you?” Dad roared.

 

“Nothing!” I shouted back. “I’m eighteen! There isn’t anything you can do!”

 

“When did it start?”

 

“It doesn’t matter,” I replied. “I love him.” I turned to leave, and Dad grabbed my upper arm, hauling me over to a club chair, and tossing me in it.

 

“You don’t walk away from me when I’m talking to you,” he warned, hovering over me. “Now I want to know when it started.”

 

“September,” I answered. My voice was suddenly small and scared.

 

“Oh my God,” Mom whispered. “Liam, she was just seventeen. She was still seventeen!”

 

Dad glared at me, and then his eyes softened. “Did that man take advantage of you?”

 

I shook my head.

 

“Did you have sex with him?”

 

I didn’t move. That question was a private one, and it crossed the line.

 

“Did you have sex with him?”

 

I started crying in earnest.