I wake up with a start, leave the deck as quickly as I can, go to Tommy’s study, and flip open his computer.
I’ve practically memorized every page of my new school’s website. I’ve looked at all the photos, studied the map of the campus, read their student handbook twice, wondered how many of the rules they actually enforce, read about every athletic and academic club, and all the other student activities. I’ve read about their famous graduates. I know that 37% of their graduating class goes on to an Ivy League college. I know that they recently revamped their meal service to give the students more healthy choices. I know they have three coffee shops located on campus. I’ve memorized the names and photos of the faculty. I’ve been prepping for my role much the way Mom does before a film.
Delve into your character. Know her background. Become her.
Since I have to become me, I’ve also made a list of all the clubs and activities I want to be a part of. I was bummed to learn that dance team is out, since they had their tryouts in May, but I’m going to sign up for all the other stuff.
I read and reread the dress code.
Kym was sent to New York City to shop for me. We aren’t allowed to ship anything from L.A. to my new school lest it be tracked. I get to bring a suitcase-worth of stuff from home. And all of that is being screened before I’m allowed to pack it.
The good news is that Kym’s great at shopping and totally gets my taste. She’s shopping for all my dorm decor as well as clothes to go with my uniforms. She’s super excited to use her talents to make them look amazing. She’s already bought the uniform pieces and had a seamstress tailor them to fit me perfectly. She had the plaid skirts made just a little shorter than they should be. And she’s making me my very own Look Book. She does Look Books for Mom whenever she goes out of town. She figures out the outfits Mom is to wear every day and sends her a little book of photographed combinations. That way, Mom knows she’ll always look her best. I guess at least I’ll look good there. And Kym is sweet. I know this is her way of trying to make me feel better about things. She always says the right clothes give you confidence.
I put the computer down.
It sucks not being able to get on any social media sites to see what everyone is doing.
Or, more specifically, what they’re saying about me.
Come to think of it, I probably don’t want to know.
James walks in. “How you holding up?”
“I’m okay. I’m having a hard time playing with the girls though. It makes me sad to have to leave them.”
“It makes us all sad. I really think I should be going with you.”
“I think that would make me stand out. People would want to know why.”
“I couldn’t be a body guard. I’d have to get a job there or pretend to be your dad or something.”
“I’ve been looking at the website. I think I’ll be okay there, James. There are people here I don’t want to leave but, honestly, even though I know you have lots of security and stuff, I just don’t feel safe. Even with an armed guard outside my room every night, I can’t sleep.”
“You’ve been handling this better and more maturely than anyone expected. Are you sure you’re doing okay?”
“You know how that night, how I thought my dad talked to me?”
“Yeah.”
“The same voice sort of popped into my head later that night and told me I should go to boarding school. That I’d be safe.”
“Really? That’s pretty cool. Garrett is coming over soon. I don’t know if you know this, but he’s the president of the security firm. You noticed as soon as we found out the police weren’t going to be able to hold him, he asked them to leave. He didn’t want anyone in on our plans for you. We can’t afford any leaks.”
“Okay. What does he want to talk to me about?”
James smiles. “He’s meeting with you first, then with everyone else. There are security protocols that need to be in place.”
I hear the doorbell ring. “That’s him,” James says.
Garrett shakes my hand. He’s built much like James. He’s about six feet tall, lean, and has the kind of look in his eye that lets you know you’d better not fuck with him. I don’t doubt he has a military background.
“Let’s have a seat.”
I sit.
“First of all, I didn’t say this the other night, but congratulations on your escape.”
“Uh, thanks?” Seriously? Can you picture that on a greeting card? Congratulations on your recent escape from being kidnapped. We’re so proud of you. Or. . .
“I want to talk to you about fear.”
That gets my attention. “Fear?”
“Yes, fear. Fear is like a sixth sense. When you feel scared, there’s usually a reason. Have you ever been in the house alone and heard a strange noise?”
“Yeah.”
“You know that tingly feeling you get in your stomach? Or when it feels like the hair on your arm or the back of your neck is standing on end? That’s fear. Your body is telling you that something is wrong. You must learn to trust that fear. If you feel fear anytime, no matter how ridiculous you think you’re being, run. Run and find someone. Call someone. Go someplace where people are. Get yourself to safety. Scream. Whatever you need to do. It’s the number one thing that will keep you safe.”
“So why didn’t I feel fear all those times I was with him? I sat with him. I talked to him. I flirted with him. I never felt scared.”
“There were times he tried to get you to go somewhere with him or meet him. Why didn’t you?”
I think about that for a minute. Why didn’t I? “Warning bells, I guess. Like in my head. I wondered why this hot older guy would be flirting with me. Why he’d want an unknown like me for the role. Why he didn’t go through an agent. It sorta didn’t add up.”
“That’s what kept you safe. James tells me you’re a very bright girl. I’d have to agree with him. Trust your intuition. If something doesn’t feel right, it probably isn’t.”
“Okay.”
“My job is to figure out all the possible ways he could find you, think of them first, and then do something different. One way we often find people is through social media. I know James took your phone and your computer.”
I nod while he reaches into his bag. He pulls out a new phone, iPad, and laptop. “These are your new toys. We’ve preloaded your phone and email list with the only people you are allowed to contact.”
I scroll through the list and read. “B, D, Garrett, Grandpa, James, Kim, Mom, Sam, Spa, Tom. Not very many. Are the B and D for Brooklyn and Damian? Why did you spell Kym’s name wrong, and who is Sam? And did you already find me a good spa to go to?”
“Both Brooklyn and Damian have unusual names and are in the public eye. We didn’t want to list Tom as Tommy or make Kym stand out with the unusual way she spells her name. We don’t want anyone to connect any dots. We’ll talk about Sam in a minute. Notice I added myself. You need anything—help, advice, anything, anytime, twenty-four hours a day—you call me. No question is too stupid regarding your safety. If for some reason I don’t answer, call the spa. The spa is code for my security firm. They will always answer the phone and can get you whatever you need very quickly.”
“Okay, thank you.”
“Now, for social media. I know it’s part of your world, but trust me, with facial recognition software, finding any new account you might form on the sly would be detrimental to your well-being. Just don’t do it.”
“Okay. What else do I need to know?”
“Money is the other way to track people. Your being a minor complicates the issue, so we had to take a few drastic measures.” He reaches into a file folder and hands me an official looking document. “You’ve been emancipated from your parents and are officially an adult.”