#Chapter 2: A Family Reunion

The next bus only gets me within three miles of home. I want to get there faster, but my phone is dead after trying to call Charles multiple times. My calls wouldn't go through, and I have a sick feeling in my gut that my number has been blocked.

 

The air is chilly, and I hug my inadequate coat closer to my body. Frozen slush sticks to my shoes. By the time I turn the corner and see our big, white house sitting squarely in the middle of the block, I'm freezing.

 

I reluctantly go up the front steps, unsure of what I'll find when I get inside. Should I knock? It feels foolish to knock at my own front door, but I don't even have a key anymore.

 

Turns out, I don't have to worry. The door flings open before I can even reach for the doorbell, and my stepbrother Brodie stands in front of me with a smug grin on his face.

 

"Woohoo!" he shouts. "Mom! Paul! The convict returns to darken our doorstep!"

 

Becki's blonde head pokes out from another doorway behind him. "Oh, my god," my stepsister says in disgust. "You look like shit, Nicole. Gross. Prison just drips off of you, not that I'm surprised. We're going to have to wash anything you touch."

 

I'm stunned. I've never been super close to Becki or Brodie, it's true, but they've never been outright cruel like this.

 

"What's going on?" I ask. "Why didn't anyone pick me up at the prison?"

 

Becki snorts. "Don't blame me. I can't believe you even have the nerve to show your face here again, after what you did. Our family is in disgrace because of you."

 

I'm baffled. Everyone here knows I didn't commit any crimes – they are the ones who convinced me to take the fall for Charles in the first place, after all.

 

I open my mouth to remind Becki of this, but my father appears in the hallway before I can get a word out. I look at him hopefully, waiting for a defense, but he just looks grim. He waves me inside before turning around and walking into the dining room.

 

I follow. Darlene is sitting at the elegantly polished table, sipping tea from my mother's antique china set. I grit my teeth.

 

"Nicole," she says calmly, glancing at me. She's head-to-toe in Armani, impeccable and decked out with six pounds of makeup and more jewelry than would be necessary for a dinner at the White House, never mind just sitting around drinking tea in her own home.

 

"Darlene," I say.

 

"Welcome back, dear." Darlene reaches for the teapot, refilling her cup with a spindly, manicured claw. She stirs a spoonful of sugar into her tea and lifts it to her mouth, a red gash in her overly-powdered face.

 

"Welcome?" I say. "I don't understand. Why didn't anyone come pick me up today?"

 

"Nicole, please," Darlene says. "I don't have the time for your hysterics."

 

Confused, I turn to my father, who is standing in the doorway staring at a spot over my head.

 

"Dad," I say. "I can't get a hold of Charles. I called like, thirty times, but I think he's blocked my number. And I saw on TV that he's marrying the Alpha's daughter? What's going on?"

 

Becki shrieks with laughter somewhere behind me. "Oh, my god, Nicole. You really are even stupider than you look. Did you seriously think you could still marry Charles after your little stint in prison? He's the financial officer of the Alpha's pack now; he can't be seen with a freaking ex-con."

 

Brodie hoots as well. "You are so gullible, Nicole," he says, wiping tears from his eyes. "Of course Charles blocked your number, you moron. We'd have blocked your number and changed the locks if we didn't have to worry about doing damage control to clean up your mess."

 

"My mess?" I ask, bewildered and hurt. "Dad, you know the real reason I was in prison. Is the Robinson family really going to just dump and forget me like this? Don't you have anything to say?"

 

Darlene cuts in, her voice glittering and sharp as the edge of a diamond. "Nicole, please, I told you to quit the hysterics. No one asked you to do this; it was entirely your choice. You don't get to play the victim now that the consequences have come home to roost."

 

"You've embarrassed all of us, Nicole," Becki chimes in, crossing her arms. "You've disgraced this entire family. I don't know what other reaction you'd expect."

 

I stare at the four of them in disbelief. I think back to that awful day, the day that Charles's mom called Dad in a panic, sobbing about the unexpected police warrant and the drugs, the words "enough to make a case for criminal intent to distribute" swirling in the heavy air.

 

I think about Dad and Darlene begging me to take the fall, to not let Charles's career be ruined. I think about Becki, shouting, "My god, Nicole, he's going to marry you either way. Who cares if you go to prison? Are you going to support him or not?"

 

"You and Charles grew up together," Dad had said. "You know he'll stand by you. Now, are you going to do the right thing or not?"

 

Now, I stand in my dining room, feeling frozen to the core. Dad is still staring at the ceiling, silent. Darlene is prim, with a glittering malice in her eyes. Becki smirks. Brodie grins like a predator.

 

They know; they have to know what they're doing. I don't understand any of this.

 

"Will someone at least help me get in contact with Charles, so I can have some closure around all this?" I ask. My voice sounds like it belongs to someone else. "I need to at least hear some of this from him. I should–I need to at least return the ring? Maybe I could go to his wedding, just to–"

 

Dad finally speaks up for the first time. "Nicole, if you truly love Charles, you will leave him alone to get on with his life. He's doing very well. He doesn't need your – this – mess coming back to haunt him, much less at his own wedding."

 

Becki says it more bluntly. "He's not going to talk to you, Nicole. Forget it."

 

Darlene finishes her tea, ringing a bell for the maid to come clear the dishes. Her voice is suddenly businesslike.

 

"Now, here's what's going to happen. Nicole, you are going to find a job, any job, and reintegrate yourself into society to minimize the humiliation you've caused this family as much as you can. And I won't hear any more moaning and mooning about Charles. You've made your choices, and now you can live with them."

 

Numb, I turn and leave the dining room, going down to my little basement room. I shut the door and collapse onto my old bed, the sheets smelling stale and musty, like they haven't been changed in years. I guess they probably haven't been.

 

I've never felt so alone in my life.

 

That night, watching the news on my phone, I see Marcus again. He talks about charity work and the joy of giving back to one's community. Heart aching, I shut off my phone. Pretty words, but everybody has pretty words when they're cheap and easy.

 

How can I ever trust anyone again?

 

I hold the cover letter I wrote and wait for the possible turn of events tomorrow.