Katie McGarry - Say You'll Remember Me

I nod again.

“I know that the program promised to help in any way they could with securing your future goals. Specifically, I know that there had been some conversation of pushing along your application to help you secure an audition, but after much discussion, the governor’s office doesn’t feel that would be the best course of action.

“The performing arts program is extremely selective, and the competition to gain one of those spots into the school is fierce, especially with a transfer student about to start their senior year. Our involvement would send the wrong message to critics of the Second Chance Program, and alienate parents and students who have worked hard to claim those spots. So, instead, we are highly encouraging you to apply on your own. If you receive a spot in the program and are awarded money to go, won’t it feel good to know you did it all on your own?”

She smiles then. Big white teeth against red lipstick. I didn’t know I had hope until my gut twists. Getting in on my own. Like that’ll happen. Will they trash my application when they see my transcript that’s C’s and below, or will they deep-six me when they read my essay of what I did on my summer vacation in juvenile detention?

“I agreed to being your poster child, and you guys agreed to get me the audition.” I can hold my own in the audition. There might not be much substance to me, but I’m good at music.

My current high school is a holding cell for teens between stints in juvie. If I want more for my life, then I’ve got to start making some major moves fast. Music was the only good thing about me before the arrest. Maybe music will keep me on track. That youth performing arts program was my best hope at building a résumé that could possibly get me into college. “I never asked for you to get me in. I only asked for the audition.”

“Well, we can’t,” Cynthia snaps, and after she briefly closes her eyes she returns to fake cheerful. “We would love to help, but you’re our model for the Second Chance Program. Hopefully, the entire state will know who you are soon and will know that the governor’s program is successful. But we can’t do anything that will bring criticism to the program. That includes the governor’s office calling in a favor. These things get leaked. How the public and media perceive this program is crucial. I’m sorry, but this is how it has to be.”

“You think they’re going to give an audition to a juvenile delinquent?”

“Your records are sealed.”

“But my transcript will speak for itself, as well as any explanation on time gaps in my education. Part of being in the program was your promise to help all of us in our future plans. Since I’m your circus monkey, that promise no longer applies to me? If so, I’m not seeing the benefit of going onstage.”

“Being the spokesperson was part of your plea deal. You’re choosing to see this in a negative light. You have no idea how this will play out until you apply for the program. Try thinking positively. Good things will happen if you remain positive.”

I stand abruptly, the seat beneath me cracking against the floor with the movement. “I’m going to let you in on a secret—hoping and wishing food would appear when I was younger didn’t work. Scamming people outside of grocery stores did. So I do know how it’s going to play out. The boy who has nothing is once again going to get screwed.”

Not how I should be talking to my handler, but it’s better than the string of four-letter words I’d rather be yelling.

My therapist told me when I couldn’t handle my emotions to remove myself from the situation. So I turn away from Cynthia and begin to walk.

“Don’t go far,” she calls out.

She shouldn’t worry. That leash she has me on is so tight it’s cutting off blood flow, and it’s so damn short, I’m surprised I haven’t fallen prone to the ground. At least now I know the score, and once again I’m on the losing end.

Ellison

“No more bringing animals home,” Mom says in front of an entire room of people, and it takes an amazing amount of self-control to not let my face show how mortified I am by her public admonishment. We’re in a private room at the conference center, and the clock ticks down for Dad’s press conference.

“The dog you brought home yesterday made a mess in the laundry room. There was mud everywhere, and it growled at me. How could you bring home something dangerous?”

“He didn’t growl with me.”

“He was feral.”

“He was lost.” Annoyance thickens my tone. “Someone needed to help him.”

“That someone isn’t you. I’m serious. No more. I’m tired of coming home and wondering if there’s going to be some rabid beast waiting to eat me when I open my front door.”

The poor thing had curled up with me. I fed him, gave him a bath in my tub, fed him again and then he rested his head on my lap and eventually closed his eyes. I loved him from the moment his dark, scared eyes first looked in my direction. “You probably spooked him when you opened the door to my room. He wasn’t alone in there but for three minutes.”

“Elle,” Dad says my name with finality. He’s lectured me easily a hundred times: no more bringing animals home, no more talking back to my mother, no more arguing. Just do what I’m told.

“Can everyone give us a few minutes?” my dad asks the room. “Elle, you can stay.” Very rarely does my father ask me to leave, since my parents love to keep a close eye on me.

In the mirror, my eyes meet Andrew’s, and I try to gauge if he became a tattletale. Andrew is twenty-two, is royalty in this state, and his family and my family are good friends. His grandfather is the current and retiring US Senator. While his grandfather is well loved and respected, Andrew is sought-after, and I understand why. He’s gorgeous with his blond hair, green eyes and built body. Plus, he stands to inherit a fortune.

But Andrew and I are complicated. Not only am I the “little sister burden,” but at thirteen I confessed my undying love for him. He laughed, I cried and, since then, there’s been a sense of embarrassment that includes my face morphing into crimson when I spot his amusement.

Today, I’m able to keep my embarrassment in check. Andrew’s been gone a year to study abroad in Europe, and the break has helped me realize he was mean to laugh at a thirteen-year-old. It also made ditching him earlier much easier than expected.

Andrew smirks as he walks over to me, and I immediately pull my gaze away and pretend to smooth out my dress. He presses a hand to the small of my back as he leans in. Years ago, my heart would have leaped at his touch and at how incredibly close his lips are to my ear, but now all I can think is...jerk.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers. “I didn’t tell.”

My eyes dart to his in the mirror again, and he waggles his eyebrows. Andrew, even after a year, still finds me amusing.

“I’m assuming you’re waiting for me to say thank you.”

“Why the bitterness? You used to love it when I babysat you.”

Babysat. He needs to be in pain. I check the mirror to see if my parents notice us talking and discover my mother watching us with rapt and joyous attention. Kneeing Andrew in the groin wouldn’t meet her approval.

“I’m a big girl,” I say under my breath, “and I don’t need you anymore.”

Full smile with straight teeth. “Been gone a year and I guess you’re all grown up, Ellie.”

“Guess so. And so you know, I go by Elle. Have now for a few years.”

He chuckles and finally removes his hand. “See you later, Ellie.”

Andrew bids goodbye to my mother and father, then leaves.

I pivot to confirm my sundress isn’t riding too high in the back. It’s beautiful, it’s purple, thick-strapped with no scoop, made of material that feels like I’m being wrapped in soft feathers, and tailored just for me. But sundress does not mean serious. It means pretty, it means fun and this means I will once again smile for the camera and remain silent.