CHAPTER 1
Tris POV:
"Bye dad, I'm going for a run around the lake. I'll be back in a while," I shout to the house as I make my way down the stairs pulling my long hair into a high ponytail as I go. I pivot at the bottom around the bannister and head towards the back of the house to go out the side door by the driveway. There is no answer, but I'm sure he heard me. I walk around the side of the house and put my earphones in to listen to some music on my run. My latest playlist is still a work in progress, as they all are, but I'm sure I can find something to get me through this run. I need to zone out more than I need to listen to music anyway.
As I walk down my street I look around. This new neighborhood is not like the old one where we lived before. This one is a 'planned community' with golf cart paths, a health center which includes: a pool, a gym, basketball courts, pickleball courts (whatever that is), a walking/jogging path around a huge manmade lake that is the center of the community, and a playground for all the yoga moms to congregate and watch their kids without ever leaving the front gate.
I do like the running path though. The walk from the house to the loop path is not long enough for a proper warm-up so I continue to twist and bend to limber up. I stand and survey the quiet water in the lake as I hold on to the back of the park bench for balance and stretch a few minutes longer. I can feel the tension behind my eyes and between my shoulders begin to fade as I set off around the lake at a steady jog. The rhythm of my foot falls as I run helps me to zone out. As I run, I continue thinking, just letting my mind wander, never stopping on any no particular subject. This place is a big adjustment from the old, regular neighborhood where kids rode bikes in the street and climbed the trees in the vacant lot behind the church. There was a rope swing at the creek by the train trestle, but there was rarely enough water in the creek for it to be a good idea so the summer hot spot was the community pool or the bowling alley.
I miss my old room with the window seat and the book shelves built into the sides of the window alcove. I miss the maple tree outside my window that turned bright red every fall and whose branches would tap the house siding in the winter storms. I miss running into a dozen people at the grocery store who know me, and ask about my family, or if I have heard the latest news, so it makes a 15 minute grocery run into an hour long hero quest. I miss my friend Susan. I miss my mom. I miss knowing where I belong and almost feeling like I fit in. Here, I don't have anyone but dad, and though he tries, he doesn't know what to do with me most of the time so he just does his own thing, and I do mine. When Caleb was still here, we did family night on Friday's which was nice. Dinner and a movie, or dinner and board games like we did back in Colfax.
Everything in the new house is...well...new, and shiny. It doesn't feel like it belongs to me. It's hard to explain, and the one time that I tried to talk to Dad and Caleb about it, I was met with nothing but blank stares so I never brought it up again. I don't want to seem ungrateful. I don't want to be ungrateful. I know this is a great opportunity for the family. I will get used to it. It is just a house after all - a place to keep warm and dry and safe, one of the basic necessities of life: shelter. Maybe if Mom was here the house would feel more like home. She wasn't able to move with us this summer because she has one more semester to go for her advanced nursing certificate and the credits wouldn't have transferred, so she will be with us on some weekends and then full time after Christmas. Caleb left for boarding school, a.k.a. sleep-away-nerd school, two weeks ago. So until Mom joins us at Christmas, it's just me and Dad in the house like polite, slightly awkward roommates.
One lap down and I am already feeling better. All that stuff about endorphins must have some truth to it. At this point, I can't even say that I am surprised by the way the morning went. Thinking back on it, I should have known something was up the moment that Dad popped out from behind his paper at breakfast today to announce out of the blue that he had arranged a ride to school for me. "Isn't that great, Honey?" he asked as I just blinked at him trying to figure out what the correct response is to this declaration.
Was he joking? Was he serious? What is he talking about? "So I made arrangements for a ride to school for you. Isn't that great Honey?" I can hear it bouncing around in my head even now.
What was he thinking? "I thought I'd just ride the bus like I did back home." I managed. Recalling the conversation, I regret my choice of words. Dad hates when I slip up and call our old house 'home.' He is really proud of his new job, and our new house, and the big promotion he got for relocating, not to mention the big raise that came with it. So I backpedaled, "I'm sorry Dad, I didn't mean...nevermind, I just figured I'd ride the bus like before."
He just shook out the paper to make the folds go the way he wanted and went back to reading as he said, "There is no need to ride the bus here, Beatrice, we'll get you a car next year after you get your license. For now you can ride with my colleague's son. He's a junior at your new school. I'm sure he'll appreciate the gas money."
He's already behind the paper again so he can't see the incredulous look on my face. "You're paying someone to drive me to school?!" I choke out. Somehow, it feels terrible, like paying someone to spend time with me, a hired companion, even though somewhere in the logical part of my brain, I know it is perfectly normal to pay the carpool driver for gas. I just cringe slightly because, well, I have no idea who this guy is. I know nothing about him, which is actually a very good point to bring up right about now, "Dad, what do you know about this guy?"
Dad just hmmmms from behind the paper, unconcerned, "Not much really. Marcus says he's a good boy. He gets good grades and is on one of the school teams, I forget which one. He tutors and volunteers and is on the paper I think, or something like that."
He doesn't sound that bad, "Ok, I guess since you already set it up...but what about in the afternoons? I am still hoping to make the soccer team and maybe join a club or two to meet some people."
Still unconcerned, "That won't be a problem, he has after school stuff too. I bet it will work out, and if not, we can just pay him some more to wait for you."
"DAD, he is not some hired chauffeur, we can't just throw money at him!"
Dad tips his paper down again and looks at me over the top edge, "I am sure it will work out Beatrice," he reiterates in a frustratingly calm tone.
I can tell I am losing this argument, so I just ask, "Ok, Dad. What is his name?"
"Uh, you know, I completely forgot to ask Marcus and he never mentioned it. I guess you will find out on Monday when he gets here." Dad gets up to refill his coffee cup and I can tell the subject is closed.
Now it is hours later, and replaying it back in my head as I run, I am still just as annoyed at my dad….I rant to myself as I increase my jogging pace to a regular running pace I know I can maintain for a while. I know no one here, starting at a brand new school and instead of riding the bus like a normal person, I'll be a tag-a-long passenger with a junior in some twisted blind date fix up that my dad cooked up to get in good with his new colleague. This will be a disaster, I just know it. He will be a creep, or a jerk, or just disgusting in some other way, or his car will be a POS or…
God, when did I become such a snotty ungrateful brat? If mom were here she'd tell me to think positively, that it will be nice to ride to school instead of take the bus. I won't have to get up as early, and I won't have to wait out in the weather… maybe this will be a good thing and what's-his-name will end up being nice and we will become friends. Not friends at school obviously, because he's a junior, but maybe he will wave or nod or something if we see each other in the halls. Oh well, guess I'll find out on Monday.
Finishing up my second lap, my mind finally clear, I notice a cute guy jogging in the opposite direction. Tall, lanky but definitely an athlete, mussy brown hair and dark eyes. I can't be sure, but I think he has already passed me once before. This time he waves a little and smiles when he notices me looking. We have passed each other before… but not at this spot. We passed about 200 yards down the path the last time, which means he is running faster than I am. Well, that won't do, I think as I kick into a sprint pace for my last last lap on the loop trail. 'Hah, take that mystery boy!' I think, then concentrate on my feet and breathing so I don't end up eating asphalt instead winning the imaginary race he doesn't know he just entered.
Marcus Eaton is more concerned with image and perception than his son's actual happiness. An offhand comment by his new colleague Andrew about how his son must be a 'lady-killer' has been weighing on his mind the last couple of days. It has made Marcus realize that his son's lack of social interaction and dating relationships now reflects badly on him...as if he is undesirable or incapable of securing and maintaining female companionship of an acceptable sort. Andrew, of course didn't mean anything by the comment; simply that his son was a star baseball player, at the top of his class, a regular columnist on the newspaper, and a rising junior in highschool, he must be popular-translates to popular with the highschool girls. Something must be done about this immediately. Andrew has a daughter joining the school this semester, she is younger than Tobias but only one year should make little difference. The best part really is that no one knows anything about her, any past discretions or poor behaviour will not be known here. She is a blank slate he can embellish as he chooses. This might work out just fine.
"Andrew, your daughter doesn't have her license yet? Didn't I hear you say she was 15?"
"Yes, that's right Marcus, her birthday is in April, so she won't get her license until almost the end of the school year."
"My son can drive her to and from school then." Marcus murmurs and then clears his throat, "That would save you the trouble, as he is going to the same place."
Andrew was quiet for just a moment, and agreed. "Yes, that would be convenient if it isn't an imposition. We would pay him for gas of course. I'll let Beatrice know this weekend. Thank you, Marcus."
"Perfect, I'll do the same." Marcus smiled to himself when Andrew walked back toward his office down the hall. Now Tobias will be seen arriving daily with the mysterious new girl. The intrigue will make him special and popular without any additional effort on his part. All he has to do is not squander this opportunity.
Four POV:
As I walk down the sidewalk that leads away from the lake. I take deep breaths to help slow my heart rate after the run. It isn't Fall yet, but you can definitely feel that Summer is over. The air is different and you just know that change is coming. School starts on Monday. I had a good run today just going around the lake. Didn't push it too hard today, I just really wanted to blow off a little steam from being cooped up in the house today. Walking back to the house now, I wonder a little about the girl that I saw running the other way. Petite, blonde, preoccupied. I don't think I've ever seen her before. She was so focused on whatever she was thinking about, I don't think she saw me until her last lap. Maybe I should have waited for her and talked to her after she finished her run, but what would I have said to her? 'Hey, nice sneakers?' or 'Hi, you must be new in town, I've never noticed you on the jogging path before' No way, that sounds too cheesy to even consider saying out loud.
I jog up the three steps to the back door and into the mudroom where I toe off my running shoes, put them in the cubby under the bench and hang my keys on the hook. Marcus calls from somewhere inside the house, "Be sure not to track in dirt all over the house!" As if I would be so stupid or careless to track in dirt from outside and risk my father's wrath. To be extra sure, I wipe my socks off on the welcome mat before I go through the interior door into the kitchen. I greet my father with a nod, saying "No, sir. I didn't." as I pass by and head upstairs to take a shower.
Every day is a variation on the same theme, I return to the house after my run and Marcus reminds me not to track in dirt into the house. It's not as if he cleans the house, it's just one more way for him to assert dominance and remind me that he is in charge; that he is the boss of me and runs every aspect of this household, including me. I have learned the only answers he wants to hear are 'Yes Sir' or 'No Sir.'
After my shower, I prepare a simple meal of grilled chicken and a tossed salad and then Marcus and I sit down to eat in the dining room. We never eat at the small table in the kitchen, always in the dining room. As we sit down to eat, I wonder when he will begin the conversation where he lectures me on his expectations of me for the coming school year. Again, we have some variation of the same conversation before the start of every new school year: good grades, stay out of trouble, excel at my chosen sports and after school activities - but only those that Marcus approves of. No time will be wasted with useless endeavors like hobbies or girls… nothing that might derail my trajectory to college and prevent me from living up to Marcus' expectations.
As I clear the dinner dishes and head toward the kitchen, I wonder what he will do when I go away for college. How will he pass the time when he can't oversee and rule every moment of my life?
"Tobias, sit down, you can finish cleaning up later. I want to talk to you about this coming school year."
Hah, here it is, I think. It is almost like I imagined it into existence. I sit back down in my chair, place my hands in my lap, prepared to be patient and silent, and try to appear respectful and attentive as he lectures me on expectations and appearances, and how everything I do reflects back on him. He begins in much the same way as every previous year, by asking to see my class list and schedule. When I return to the table with them, as well as my book list, and required supply list, he takes his time reviewing them all as I sit there waiting, trying to appear patient, attentive, respectful.
After a time, Marcus looks up from the papers and removes his glasses, places them on the table and says, "This schedule is unacceptable. You don't need a study hall, that can be replaced with an AP course of some sort, or a beneficial elective at the very least. Bring home a catalogue Monday for me to decide."
"Yes, sir."
"Now, the other item I wanted to tell you is that you will be picking up a colleague's daughter for school until further notice. Beatrice Prior; the Prior family moved here this summer from Colfax, IL and she lives in the neighborhood. From what Andrew has said of her I think she may be a good option for you. I'll want to meet her of course. One night this week or weekend for dinner should be soon enough."
"Sir?"
"Don't interrupt me when I am speaking. You know you can not get anywhere in life without appearing desirable and presenting yourself as accomplished, capable, confident, etc. It is past time you had a girlfriend and Beatrice sounds like she'll do nicely."
"Sir? Excuse me, I am not sure I understand. You've arranged a girlfriend for me? You've always insisted that dating was a waste of time and would distract me from my goals."
"Don't be absurd, Tobias. I have arranged for you to transport a young lady to and from the school that you both attend. It is up to you to take the initiative and capitalize on the circumstance that I have made possible. It is up to you to charm and persuade her, to make her like you and want to be with you. You must make her your girlfriend yourself. Andrew is in favor as well. That is all. I will see you tomorrow, good night."
Clearly dismissed, and thoroughly confused, say thank you and silently put my chair back in position under the table. I am careful not to let it scrape on the floor, then I return the dinner dishes to the kitchen and begin cleaning up. After the kitchen is clean and everything is back in its proper place, I retreat upstairs to my room to think over and replay the conversation with Marcus.
What is he up to? What could he possibly gain from me being involved with this girl? Because there has to be something in it for him. Marcus does nothing without a reason, and that reason ALWAYS benefits him in some way. Why would Andrew Prior go along with this idea? Surely he wouldn't knowingly offer up his daughter as some living sacrifice to the altar of Marcus Eaton to get ahead at Hollind, Prophet & Sawyer. What father would do that?
The idea makes me queasy. Marcus has never allowed me to date. The fact he is now pushing a girlfriend on me sight unseen is so much worse. This isn't 1845, there are no arranged marriages anymore - but this feels like it. What was it that Marcus said, how did he put it? She ''Might be a good option…' for me. I hear the echo of his words in my head, and I know that I will go along with what he wants. It is not worth what it would cost me to defy him over something so outwardly basic as driving a girl to school and maybe dating her. He wants to meet her. Maybe she won't be interested, or maybe she will be but I won't like her - not that that would deter Marcus. What does he get out of this?
I could go back and forth on this all night or forever, but it really doesn't matter. The whole situation is entirely out of my hands. Marcus wants it, so I will go along. The only chance of getting out of this is if Beatrice doesn't live up to whatever Marcus has in mind or if she doesn't want to be a part of it. Surely her dad won't force her the way mine will, Andrew likely doesn't have the same power over her that Marcus has over me.
I've already showered, my room is clean. I have one load of laundry to put away and then nothing else to do tonight, so I pull out my copy of The Giver and read until it is an acceptable time for a 17 year old boy to go to sleep on the last Saturday of summer break. Then I fall asleep wondering who Beatrice Prior is.