Chapter Twenty

In Which the World Gets Turned on Its Head

Dear Elisa Benitez,

I have spent the past few hours thinking of nothing but our last conversation. About what I said to you. About your rejection of me. About your reasons for rejecting me. About your accusations against me.

About things I could’ve done or said differently.

This letter is not intended to change your feelings toward me in any way. I understand that the odds of your feelings changing are highly unlikely, if not outright impossible. It is only intended to deliver my side of the story on both crimes of which you have accused me. I realize, as Julieta’s sister and an acquaintance—or possibly more—of George Sedgwick, you may have an incomplete view of things. Not always false, but incomplete. I wish to provide you with information you may not have, so you can draw your own conclusions. You are, of course, not obligated to read this letter. Given your dislike of me, I wouldn’t blame you for not wanting to hear anything I have to say, and I respect that. So, this will be my last communication with you for the foreseeable future, unless you are the one to initiate it. That’s a promise.

If you’ve gotten this far, I’ll assume you’ve decided to at least grant me the time it will take for you to read this. You do not have to reply to it, unless you wish to do so. Feel free to tear it up, burn it, make it into a papier-mâché project if you wish. But please, please hear me out.

Your first accusation: that I broke up Bobby and your sister. This is true. I stand by what I did. However, upon further contemplation, I’ve realized that if anyone were to know the true depth of Julieta’s feelings, it would be you. Perhaps I was wrong, about Julieta’s apparent lack of affection for my friend. I am willing to concede that your sister may have indeed had real, genuine feelings for him. But this, ultimately, doesn’t change a thing. If Bobby was so easily swayed, then maybe I was wrong about the depth of his feelings, too. In any case, I think telling them the truth of what happened would only cause them both more heartache. Bobby’s moved on with his life, and from what I’ve heard, Julieta has, too.

Now, on to your second accusation: that I had Wick kicked out of school for no reason. This is a lie—with one tiny nugget of truth buried within it. I don’t know what details—or rather, his version of all the details—Wick told you, so I’ll start from the beginning.

Wick’s father went to military school with my own. Although the Sedgwicks were of a lower social standing, they were often over at our home as I was growing up. Dinners, playdates, game nights, parties, even just to hang out—Wick and his parents were a frequent presence in our lives. He was about three years older than me, but I never let that stand in the way of our friendship, and neither did he. He was practically a brother to me. He always talked about how he wanted to go to Winchester Military Academy in Columbus, where we were living, like his father. But it was expensive, more than the Sedgwicks could afford. So, my father promised Wick that, when he was old enough, he would pay to send him.

My parents died when I was fourteen. Wick was seventeen at this point. Gianna and I were in the custody of Willow’s father—my father’s brother—and our parents’ finances were divided between my aunt, my uncles, my sister and myself, although Gianna and I were not to access our funds until we were eighteen. So, when it came time for Wick to start at military school, my Aunt Catherine asked me if I still wished for his way to be paid. I said yes. I didn’t hear from Wick again after that.

At first, I tried to tell myself that he was simply busy. He was in college now, preparing for his future. However, as I continued to reach out and he remained silent, it gradually became clear to me that he had moved on—and that his future, apparently, didn’t include me. It hurt, but I survived. I’d known Bobby all my life, but this was when we really became close. He was there when I was reeling from the loss of both my parents and my surrogate brother. I’ll always love him for that.

My sister is very smart. She’s always been two steps ahead of me, intellectually, and was among the most advanced in her class, which itself was for “gifted and talented” students. Her true area of expertise is music. When I was seventeen, Gianna was in junior high, and was permitted to take music classes at the college. I was worried about her being mixed in with people so much older, since she’s always been so shy, even around her peers, but I couldn’t be the one who held her back.

Gianna began attending a class at the college twice a week. The other students all took very well to her—they all treated her like the entire class’ baby sister. Gi didn’t mind this; she actually liked it. She felt like she was part of the group, and I think that, in her own way, she was. One day, she called me to say that she’d been invited out for post-midterm celebrations with the rest of the class. I knew they’d be going to a bar, but I trusted her to not do anything stupid, and her classmates to keep an eye out for her, so I told her to go and have fun.

This next part of the story is the hardest of all for me to recount. I want to start by saying that I’ve talked to Gianna about what happened, and she’s fully aware of this letter and its contents. She’s given me permission to share this information with you. I would never reveal it if she hadn’t.

After that outing, I noticed a gradual shift in Gianna’s personality and actions over the course of a few months. She became more secretive, more private, even around me. She was constantly texting someone and got irritable if anyone got too close to her phone. She also began eating far less, and often seemed on-edge and stressed out. Willow and I asked her about it countless times, but she insisted we were imagining things. But I know my sister, and something was very, very wrong.

It was Willow that found out. She overheard Gianna on the phone one night, after everyone else in the house was asleep, and she distinctly heard her address the other caller by name: “Wick.” She told me what she’d heard the next morning, and I immediately pulled Gianna aside to ask her about it. It took a few minutes of pestering, but once it became clear I knew something was going on and wouldn’t drop it until I knew the full truth, she broke down and told me. She’d met Wick that night at the bar. They hadn’t spoken in years, but he’d been his usual friendly, charming self. He’d told her he wanted to be friends again. But that friendship quickly turned into something more.

She and Wick had been together, sexually, and romantically (if you can call it that—I’m not sure I could stomach it), but she had known that the relationship was illegal, given her age, so she kept it secret. He, of course, had been fine with that. I told her that she had to break up with him and cease all contact. I told her that any grown man willing to pursue a relationship of that nature with a teenager is not a man you want around.

She was reluctant. She fought me. She said he loved her, and she loved him, and that they’d get married as soon as she was old enough. She said I just didn’t understand him, or her. I realized she wouldn’t listen to me easily, so I told her that if she didn’t, I’d tell our aunt and uncle, who would definitely call the police.

Looking back, what I regret most is not doing that from the start. But I didn’t. I was horrified by Wick’s actions, and at the time, I was only focused on getting Gi out of that relationship as quickly as possible.

Over the next few weeks, she slowly began to open up, though she was angry at me for quite a while. I found out she had tried to end the relationship twice previously, but Wick had always convinced her to come back. He made her feel like only he saw her as the mature, intelligent adult she so desperately wanted to be. I found out he hit her at least once during an argument. I found out he’d also been sending her lewd images and text messages, even during periods where she’d broken up with him. I did not, however, find out if he ever outright forced her into sex. I’m certain there was some coercion, and given their respective ages, the consent involved is dubious at best, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to ask for all the details, and Gianna doesn’t seem to want to talk about it.

Finally, she realized that Willow and I had done the right thing, trying to pull her away from Wick. We had made every effort to make sure they couldn’t see each other, but finally, Gi said she would terminate the relationship for good, and press charges against him for statutory rape. We began the process of pressing charges (including telling my aunt and uncle, both of whom were appalled Willow and I hadn’t come to them for help right away). But, well…

I’m sure you’ve heard what it can be like for victims who try to bring their abusers to justice. The system is harsh on them. They’re often scared or intimidated into silence. Gianna, unfortunately, was one of them. I don’t hold this against her; the way the officers talked to and about her upset even me, and they went out of their way to assure her that the trial would be long and grueling, and even with proof, it was unlikely Wick would get convicted of anything serious, thanks to the fact that she didn’t come forward right away and his stellar reputation. (I’m almost certain Gianna wasn’t the first girl he’s done this with, but if there are others, they never came forward, either. His record is flawless; not even a parking ticket.)

The stress was making her physically ill and causing her to have panic attacks, and finally, she decided to drop all charges. We tried to talk her out of it, but she was so distressed that eventually, we realized forcing her to continue would be cruel. He hadn’t tried to contact her in a month or so, and she had no desire to see or speak to him again, so my aunt and uncle decided to simply focus on her recovery. She’s been in counseling ever since, and that’s when they began homeschooling her.

I couldn’t stand the thought of him walking away scot-free. I had to make him pay somehow. What I really wanted was to lock him in a cage and throw away the key, but if Gianna wouldn’t press charges, that plan wasn’t happening anytime soon. So, I decided to do the only thing I could think of—put the fact that I was now eighteen and had full access to my money to good use. I went to Winchester with the proof we had against Wick and told them that if he wasn’t expelled by the end of the day, I’d make them regret it. My family’s one of the biggest donors Winchester’s ever had, and my father’s company could easily buy out the school and sell it back for twice its value, so they knew I wasn’t kidding. (I think they were also worried I’d go to the press if they didn’t do anything. I wouldn’t have, because of Gianna, but I was fine with letting them believe I would.) I don’t normally approve of blackmail, but to get Wick out of that school, I was more than happy to make an exception.

I hope now you understand why I did what I did. I got Wick expelled, yes, but I had a good reason. You don’t have to take my word for it. You can ask Willow, Bobby, and Gianna—they’ll tell you everything. I hope you also understand why I tried to dissuade you from pursuing a relationship with him. And why I couldn’t tell you the whole story.

Again, this is my last attempt to contact you unless you contact me first. I regret some things, but not everything—I hope this letter is an adequate explanation for some of my actions. Please take care of yourself and have a good rest of term. If you wish to see me, I’ll be at the Fitzgerald Estate in Columbus. You can also, of course, contact me through Willow or Colin.

I wish you nothing but happiness.

Sincerely,

Darcy Fitzgerald

Elisa read the letter again. And again. And then she read it two more times.

So many different emotions were swirling inside of her, getting all mixed up and tangled. Mostly, there was shock. And anger. And the horrible, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, of realizing she’d been completely and totally wrong.