A dull ache pulses in my temples as I press my palms against my burning eyes, attempting to stop the tears. Fat lot of luck it does. They still spill over and down my cheeks.
“I wish I knew, Leah.” I take a deep breath and let out a shaky laugh, looking for some semblance of humor in this fucked up situation.
She keeps talking, but everything goes in one ear and out the other. I can’t focus on anything she says. Then she gasps suddenly. “Riles, you can write an expose on the place. This could be it!”
What?Her enthusiasm does little to make me feel better. “Yeah, except I’m not the writer. That’s you. Remember?” The “duh” is on the tip of my tongue, but I rein it in. No need to be bitchy to her. She did nothing wrong.
“So?” she counters with an excited squeal. “O-M-G, I got it. You go undercover, get the goods, and I’ll write it. We’ll sell the story to a national paper or write a book. It’s genius! There’s been no one who has released this type of information. No one’s gonna stop you from writing about your experience.” She takes a deep breath. “Riles, this could be huge for us!” Her enthusiasm is palpable. I know Leah well enough to know she’s already making her bestseller list speech.
Thinking about it, she is making a few good points. There’s something going on at Pointebreak, and getting to experience it first-hand could give us an enormous advantage. Most of the country doesn’t know of its existence, but those in New England do. It’s almost like a mythical place. No one has ever seen it, eventhough the people in town know it’s there like a secret stitched into the town’s foundation, kept quiet by generations who know better than to ask. I perk up for the first time today. Sheismaking some valid points. I could sell my story, fight to make it headline news nationwide. Maybe Pointebreak could come crashing down. There are too many secrets surrounding that school. It’s always astounded me that no one’s come forward to quash the rumors.
I always assumed I would go into politics to help dad get further in his career, and boost mine. That seems to be what most politician kids do. They get some sort of powerful position to help boost their parents along with their own. But after today I’m not so sure what I want…
“Maybe.” I offer noncommittally as I rub my forehead, hoping for some relief from this blasted headache. “I don’t know.” My mind and body are numb, and I’m seeing everything through a haze. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience. I’m here, but not at the same time. Leah is still talking, but I can’t keep up with her. My mind is bouncing around from one scenario to another, conjuring up nightmares of what being a Pointebreak student will mean.
I cut her off, not able to keep up with her train of thought anymore. “Leah, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” We say goodbye and gently toss my phone on my bed.
There’s a stupid no off-campus rule for the first years. Same thing with a car. It’s a privilege granted to older students. The only chance to get away will be during Christmas break, if I’m even going to be allowed to. Summers are probably gone too. If daddy’s willing to throw me in here, what’s stopping him from keeping me there year round? If I’m a betting woman, and today I sure as hell am, I would say my summers will be on campus, or locked up somewhere else where I can’t escape. Something’sgoing on. There’s a reason he doesn’t want me going to Dartmouth, and I intend to find out why.
Mystery shrouds Pointebreak. The good people of Barrington, New Hampshire, don’t talk about it, and most pretend the school doesn’t exist. The townspeople stay away from it, and the students keep themselves scarce around town. I know, because I’ve seen campus up close once. One of Governor Whittier’s campaign tours was in Barrington. I could only look through the gates, though. One rumor is the mafia runs it and it’s a training ground for the armies. That seems far-fetched to me. But then again, people also say it’s owned by the government and they use it to produce super soldiers, so who really knows? All I know is I won’t be taking literature this year like I assumed. And if I wanted to go out for a sorority—forget it. The school doesn’t offer extra-curricular activities.
Pointebreak will be my prison for the next foreseeable future.
I slump, no longer able to stand straight—the weight of my fate is pulling me down. I ignore the suitcase that’s found its way into my bedroom and search the school online. The grounds are beautiful. The vivid colored flowers throughout the pictures bring a touch of a smile to my face. But that’s the trap, isn’t it? Lure unsuspecting students like me into its death trap only to consume me and spit me back out as something else.
Jesus, I need to lay off the horror movies and mystery books.Dad wouldn’t send me anywhere where I wouldn’t be safe. But even as I think about it, I’m wondering how true that is. I scroll through several pages featuring pictures of smiling students in uniforms, before clicking on the about us page.
“Founded in 1936 by the Genovese family, the campus started off as a small private school for underprivileged students forging for a better life,” I murmur.How philanthropic… “Students who choose to study at Pointebreak will obtain the finest all-encompassing experience between academic andextracurricular.” I contort my face in confusion. “What the hell does that mean?” I sigh heavily. “Suchpretty words for a prison,” I mumble.
I scroll each page and read the entire website from top to bottom but nothing jumps out urging me to run far and fast.Although, why would it?The website showcases how most students graduate and gain acceptance into high-level jobs and positions. Something just seems…off. I don’t know what it is, but something isn’t right with this. It sounds too perfect.
What school makes you sign a contract? Well, I guess every college when you accept their offer, but still. And a uniform? I sigh and fall back against my headboard. I should have grabbed the folder of information so I could read through it. The last thing I want is to leave the sanctuary of my room. I glare at the suitcase again and decide I’d better pack and get a list together to buy last-minute items.
Such a good girl, doing just what daddy wants. Like always.
I’m disgusted with myself, but can't resist, and I rummage through clothes. I put my hand over my stomach, bile trying to find a way up. My earlier panic attack returns, but I quickly use my rule of three to stop it before it overwhelms me again.
I wasn’t always like this—the panic attacks. They started shortly after my mom died, and things…changed. Mom was my safe place. The love she showered on me was unmatched, and when she died, I lost that. My dad loves me, I know that, or knew that, but it’s not the same as with her. They started slowly. My heart would race when I was in an uncomfortable situation and my palms would sweat. But I could usually breathe through it until it passed. I didn’t know what it was and when I told my dad I didn’t feel right; he blamed it on hormones or anxiety like it was a normal thing.
It wasn’t until I was about sixteen that the attacks got terrible. Not until after him. I shake my head. No. I’m not goingdown that road right now. I’ve got too many other things to focus on. Nothing good ever comes from thinking of him.
What has dad gotten himself into? The question snakes its way into my thoughts again. I’ve heard him behind closed doors enough times to know he doesn’t always make deals with the kind of people you'd want to owe a favor to. Powerful men. Men who can make or break you, exposing all your dirty secrets. But dad always seemed to have people’s best interests at heart even through all of that. I know he made a lot of improvements in our own town when he started off as the Town Manager. But as his political career grew, so did his attitude and need for power.
I’ve noticed the change slowly over the years. First, it was with some of his staff. He switched kind hearted employees out for more cutthroat people who offered smiles but rarely made me feel comfortable, and stares that made shivers run down my spine. Next were the security measures he added around the house. No longer was an alarm enough. He felt he needed to add a gate with a guard at the end, along with security cameras and alarms.
A lot of these changes happened so long ago I hardly remember a time when we didn’t have them in place. I guess I figured every politician lived like that. I’ve heard of others having bodyguards and tight security around them, but figured it was normal protocol, especially as his popularity grew.
Plus, my world wasn’t being turned upside down.
Could Leah be right? She used to joke about my dad being mixed up in some shady shit, and I always laughed it off and told her it wasn’t possible. My body heats as anger simmers just below the surface. I clench my teeth and breathe deeply through my nose, willing myself to calm down for the umpteenth time today. I’ve been at dad’s beck and call my whole life. The core of his campaign is the death of his wife and his dedication to his only daughter and the bright future he wants to give everyone.
I bite my thumb, thinking through everything that has happened today. Needing to see what’s in that contract, I get off my bed and pull open the door, only to be met by the man of the hour, his hand poised to knock. I bristle as I look at him, and for a moment, his eyes soften and he gazes at me like the man—the dad I’ve always known. The urge to hug him is strong, but I keep my feet planted firmly and cross my arms over my chest, standing as tall as I can.
“I love you, Riley. I wouldn’t make you do this if I didn’t think it was best for you. Trust me. Please.” His voice is soft and kind. My bottom lip trembles as I listen to him and I pull it between my teeth, biting hard to stop it.
“Why, Dad? I had plans, and they didn’t involve spending the next four years of my life trapped in some sort of boot camp.”
I’m not sure if I’m seeing things or not, but I swear his eyes darken and the uncaring man from earlier tries to break through, but in the same second he shuts it down and opens his arms to pull me into a hug. I step into his embrace and his chest rumbles under my cheek as he speaks again.
