Many people love Wednesdays, mostly because it's in the middle of the week, meaning the weekend is just around the corner. People come alive during Wednesdays. They make exciting plans for what's to come in a few days and that's enough to keep them going for the last few week days.
But I don't.
I don't like Wednesdays.
If anything, I abhor Wednesdays.
Wednesdays were like Mondays in my book because I always wake up every Wednesday on the wrong side of the bed.
Why, you ask?
It's because every Wednesday, I'm required to eat breakfast with my mother. I know what you're thinking. If I'm such a rebel, why can't I just skip breakfast on Wednesdays with my mother? Let me enumerate the reasons why: 1) my driver's day off is every Wednesday which means, 2) I have to ride with my mom and her driver to the city and 3) I can't drive myself to school because mom refuses to let me drive and park our cars in the middle of Manhattan. I have done that several times in the past and I've pissed her so much our car keys (yes, all sixteen car keys) "miraculously" disappear every Wednesday morning. I would walk to school, but in case you didn't know, Trinity was at least an hour and forty five minutes away from our house in Sagaponack so obviously, that wasn't an option.
Long story short, I don't have much of a choice.
Breakfast with my mother was much much much more worse than Sunday Brunch at the Palace with all our superficial family friends. And that specific Wednesday is a perfect example of why.
I woke up with possibly the worst hangover I've ever had all eighteen years of my life. Trust me when I say that's big news. As you may have noticed, I'm far from being a good girl. I'm the type of girl who parties harder than everyone else in a room. I was literally the life of the party... or the dead because I tend to pass out about 80% of the time I've partied. I've done many illegal things at a very young age. Listing all of that will take us forever and a day so I'm not gonna go into details on that one.
I don't know how I managed to go home, really. I was expecting waking up on someone's bed with someone butt naked next to me. Thank God I didn't. Then again, I did party with Rachel who remained completely sober last night. What a cheater, but thank God for her. I really hated the idea of waking up next to anyone, mostly because I hate cuddling. Partially because the idea of waking up next to a complete stranger when every freaking inch of your body was in pain wasn't a very appealing sight.
Another unappealing sight was the breakfast table that morning. Don't get me wrong, I love bacon and eggs for breakfast. What I didn't like was having to eat that with so much utensils. Since I was eating breakfast with my mother, I was forced to step up my table manners-- which I hated more than usual. I mean, I could barely move and having to switch utensils every now and then when all I wanted to do was shove all of it inside my mouth was a big pain in the butt.
I let out a groan as I dropped my utensils on the table. I give up. This is impossible. Instead of letting my actions go, my mother took that as her cue to talk to me. Much to my dismay, she decided to speak to me about that conversation I was avoiding. No, the talk parents give their children when they start getting curious. My mother was fully aware I'm way past the curious stage.
"The boy you took to the auction," my mother paused as she placed her utensils down and faced me, "he's the same guy you threw a party for right?"
"Pardon?" My throat went dry and my mind tried to think of ways to avoid the conversation we were about to have.
"I know you threw a party here when we were out of town. Is he the guy you were with at the annual Rockefeller Charity Auction?" She asked calmly. I knew her too well to be fooled by this, however. She was anything but calm. Only time could tell when she was going to talk to me about Harry and how fortunate am I that she chose that day. That day when I felt like I was gonna die because of my headache, not to mention how bothered I am by the piranhas that come to life inside my stomach whenever Harry is mentioned.
"Yes, he was." I nodded, looking down at my barely touched food, as if it was not a big deal, "he was also the one who took care of me when I got sick on my 18th birthday. You know, that day when you suddenly had to go away for some 'business meeting' and I was left all alone to fend for myself." I finally looked up at her, making quote signs in the air when I said business meeting. God knows she didn't have a business meeting on my 18th birthday.
"I see." She gave me a small smile, completely ignoring my last statement. I could see how annoyed she was getting because of my behavior, causing a smirk to appear on my lips. That smirk, however, was quickly wiped away when she spoke the words: "Listen, Veronica. I think we need to have a talk."
I absolutely hated hearing those words. We need to talk. Why do people even say that? I mean, aren't we talking now? What's the point in pointing out the obvious?
"Talk about what, mom?" I faked a smile, tilting my head to the side.
"This... boy. We need to talk about this boy." She placed her hands on top of each other. Her eyes were locked on me as she talked. "He's not from our world."
But of course, of course she'd say he's not from our world. The urge to tell her Harry's not an alien and that he's only British was so strong, but I fought against it.
"I get it, it's exciting because he's a new face in the crowd. But eventually, you'll get tired of toying around with this boy." She shrugged, completely sure of her accusations.
This is so typical. Of course she'll think I'm just fooling around. I know I'm partially to blame for that, given my track record when it comes to relationships. Oh how I wish this was just 'fooling around'. Life would be much easier if that was the case.
But anyone with two eyes-- no, anyone with a brain can clearly sense that that wasn't the case for me and Harry.
I cared about him. A lot.
I cared about him too much, actually. The past two weeks of suddenly not talking after spending every single day of the past two years talking with Harry was driving me mad. Was he okay? Did I hurt his feelings? Okay, that was a stupid question. Maybe he did not vocally admit anything, but he did make a move and he did kiss me so that means something, right? Or was it a kiss that didn't mean anything? I mean, people always kiss just because they want to and not because they like the person, right? See what I mean when I said this was driving me mad? This was driving me completely insane. Not knowing the answer to so many questions was taking a toll on me, my mood, my way of dealing with things and I didn't like it.
"He's not a toy, mother." I sat up straight, crossing my arms in front of me. "He's my friend. A very good friend of mine, actually."
"Maybe, but that doesn't change the fact that he's down there and you're up here." She spoke as a matter of factly, making me roll my eyes. "For crying out loud, Veronica!" My mom's voice rose as she inched closer to the table. "You're the heiress to the multi-billion Rockefeller Group of Companies. You're New York's It-Girl. You're a regular on US Weekly. The page 6 won't be the page 6 without you in it. Fashion week is around the corner and your uncle Amancio couldn't be more proud that you're the face of Zara. And this boy is what? Nothing of importance in our world. Don't throw it all away for some low class boy from the streets."
"You don't know a thing about Harry, mother." I slammed my hands on the table, appalled by my mother's choice of words and how she just degraded someone important to me. "He's not nothing. He's not as irrelevant as you make him seem. He's been nothing but kind, caring, supportive-- hell, we can even say he's been-- well, loving. He's been loving towards me. I mean--" I stuttered. Since when did I freaking stutter? Gross, I know. "I'm not saying he loves me. I mean, he probably does. But not in that way-- in a more than platonic way-- I think. That's not the point. I'm not gonna go into-- he's my friend to say the least. He's important to me. I don't see why this is an issue now. I mean, you didn't seem to mind our friendship two years ago. Why is it such a big deal now?"
A smirk played on my mother's features as she watched me make a complete fool of myself a few seconds ago. What the hell was I doing anyway? This is why I hated analyzing things. When you analyze things, you get ideas. When you get ideas, you dwell on them. When you dwell on them, it grows on you. When it grows on you, it goes to your heart. We all know what happens when it goes to your heart.
"Because he's taking advantage of you, darling." My mother's calm demeanor was back and I knew that she was fully aware of how she has won this round. She already knows he means something to me and she will do everything-- absolutely everything-- in her power to ruin things between me and Harry. "You don't even realize it. As your mother, it is my responsibility to make sure that you make the proper decisions."
"Good luck with that, mother. You'll need it." I chuckled dryly, shaking my head.
"You should know your place, Veronica. And he should know his."
And at that, I lost it. I completely lost it.
"Wow, mom. That's just great. You know, you talking to me about places. That's completely rich coming from you." I pushed myself from the table, laughing dryly as I stood up and made my way towards the exit of the dining room. I was debating on letting it go but we all know I wouldn't. I turned on my heel and faced her one last time.
"Talk to me about knowing my place when you know yours, mom. Maybe then I'll actually listen to you and take your words to heart. You're not really that credible when it comes to these things." I crossed my arms, not even putting an effort in sounding kinder as I spoke to her. "You obviously don't know a thing about knowing your place. I mean, you didn't know yours when you were cheating on dad. And I know you still don't." I turned around, flipping my hair behind me as I finally exited the room.
"Veronica, get back here this instant! That is not the way to speak to your mother." I could hear her voice as I went straight to the reception area of our house.
"I'm going to be late for class. See you later." I shouted out, nodding at our butler as he opened the door for me.
I arrived at school around lunch time in a really terrible mood because I missed.
No, let me rephrase that.
I arrived at school around lunch time in an 'I-will-punch-the-next-person-who-pisses-me-off-regardless-of-who-they-are' mood. It wasn't even like one of those threats you make online or to your friends when you talk about the person you dislike the most. This wasn't an exaggeration of any sort. I was actually ready to get into trouble for punching whoever pisses me off that day. That was how mad I was.
After my argument with my mother, I walked from our house to the nearest bus station in Long Island, which was in Bridgehampton. Going to Bridgehampton by foot from where I live takes approximately 40-50 mins. When I got to the bus station, I had to wait for an hour and a half for the next bus heading to Midtown Manhattan. The trip from there to Midtown Manhattan takes at least two hours and fifteen minutes. From Midtown Manhattan, I took a cab to school. Given the traffic condition of New York, that took longer than expected-- and by that I meant it took me forever to hail a cab then get to school. I was considering walking from the bus station to school, but I was fully aware I already looked like a truck drove me over because of my walk earlier that morning and taking another walk-- in heels, mind you-- would make me look like a zombie. I was honestly too tired to function or care about anything else. I would've stayed at home and skipped the day if only my mom wasn't there.
And of course, there's that desire to see and finally talk to Harry.
I walked straight to my locker to get my books for the rest of the day. Forget eating lunch, even if I was already starving. I can deal with Rachel's speech concerning punctuality and giving importance to my studies especially this year since we're already seniors later. I had much much more important things to do that can't wait.
"Well, look at what the cat dragged in." A very familiar and annoying voice echoed through the almost empty hallway. I did not need to look behind me to see who it was that was speaking. I already knew perfectly well who owned that voice that sounded pretty much like nails on a chalkboard.
"Didn't you hear me, Rockefeller?" Genevieve spoke a few steps away from me. "You look trashier than usual. Did you lower your standards and finally caved to sleeping with the janitor?" I could hear her posse chuckling behind her from where I stood.
"Not in the mood, Genevieve." I shoved some of the books I didn't need from my bag inside my locker, a little harsher than expected.
"Aww, why's that? Lacking some Style in your life?" She chuckled, placing a hand on my locker door. I turned to look at her with a blank expression on her face. My eyes quickly moved to her friends who were holding onto their stomach as they continued to laugh.
"I said, I'm not in the mood." I spoke with no emotion, choosing to use the last ounce of patience I had in my body to ignore the continuous laughter from them. She can wait, too. I had to find Harry first before I change my mind.
"Honey, talk to me. We're friends right?"
"Don't call me honey. My name is Ronnie. Let's stick with that, okay?" I snapped, slamming my locker door close.
"I will call you whatever I want, hun." She smirked, tilting her head to the side.
Okay, that's it. This girl will so get it. Forget taking the high road.
"Call me hun one more time and I swear to God, I will punch your teeth in." I narrowed my eyes at her and clenched my fist, giving her one last chance to stop pissing me off. My bag dropped to the floor when I straightened my arms.
"Ooohhh, a threat. I'm not scared of you, hu--"
And that was the last time anyone saw Genevieve Matthews.
I'm just kidding.
I didn't kill her.
But I did punch her in the face.
I felt great after punching her, actually. It was like all the negative emotions I had that day, all the things that were bottled up inside me, was released in one punch. No wonder she was unconscious for a few seconds... or a minute. It was a minute actually. After I punched her in the eye, she was lying on the floor and her friends started to cry, calling me a murderer. Soon enough, people flooded to the scene.
Rachel, Penny and our other friends weren't as surprised as everyone else, but they did pull me to the side. Rachel gave me a lecture, as student body President, on how violence doesn't solve anything and that I should consider apologizing once Vie was conscious again. As a best friend, however, she gave me a high five (Rachel's too poised to give out high fives so when she does give you one, you take it and should feel proud of yourself) and said that Vie had it coming. She did.
Eventually, the school nurse, along with some teachers, arrived and I was told to give the headmaster a visit, much to my dismay, while they attended to Vie who became conscious again. She was crying, claiming she has a broken arm and that she can't walk.
Witch, please.
I punched you in the eye. You did not stretch your arm to break your fall. You just lost consciousness and your friends caught you before you hit the ground. But of course they wouldn't listen to my explanation. I mean, she did have a black eye from colliding with my fist.
I ignored the commotion in front of my locker and opened it again to stuff my things inside. Looks like I wouldn't need my books anymore, seeing as I'm probably missing my classes for the rest of the day because of the talk I have with Mr. Colton.
Yes, Mr. Colton. Remember him? The guy Harry's Aunt went to Princeton with? Yeah, him. He's the school's headmaster.
"Ah, Ms. Rockefeller." He smiled widely at me as soon as I opened the door to his office, making me nervous. I wasn't the type of person who got nervous in front of authority. I guess what made me nervous was the way Mr. Colton was acting after seeing me. Wasn't he supposed to be mad? I mean, I did punch someone unconscious earlier. "It has been a while since you graced my office with your presence. Take a seat, please." He chuckled, pointing at one of the seats in front of his desk.
"Thank you, sir." I forced a smile on my face, placing my bag on the floor just beside my foot. "I must admit, I have missed our talks." I joked, trying to make light of the situation.
It truly has been a while since I've last been here. The last time I was there was freshman year. The last week of freshman year, to be specific. It was only then that I realized-- wow, I have turned into a complete softy after Harry's arrival.
"I could say the same, Ms. Rockefeller." He laughed so hard I thought he was going to start crying any second now. He soon cleared his throat and sat up straight before speaking in an authoritative manner. "Anyway, as much as I'd love to spend the afternoon catching up, there are some things I have to address with you. Do you know why you were called inside my office?"
"Yes," I nodded my head. "I do."
"Okay then. Do you mind explaining the details of what happened between you and Ms. Matthews?"
I proceeded to explain what happened that morning. Leaving the part about my mom out of it, of course. He did not need to know about the possibility of me having feelings for Harry. Lord knows what he could possibly do with that kind of information, and by that I mean he will tell Harry about me.
"I see." Mr. Colton nodded as he placed down the notebook and pen he was holding. He took note of everything I just said for documentation. "I spoke to the Matthews earlier and they said they won't be pressing charges. The school won't too. But, as much as I understand where you are coming from, there will be some punishment for your violent acts earlier towards Ms. Matthews."
He gave me a small smile before he proceeded. "You will be suspended for the rest of the day. Your mom already talked with the school and you will be sent home immediately." He cleared his throat as he nervously picked up the notebook from the table. For a few moments or so, there was nothing but silence that could be heard in the room.
"So that's it? I get suspended for the rest of the day?" I raised an eyebrow, not completely surprised about the turn of events but definitely not happy with it. "What about the coming days? Don't I get detention? Community service, perhaps? Schools give that kind of punishment, right?"
"I wasn't expecting that sudden outburst, Ms. Rockefeller." Mr. Colton calmly spoke. "But no, you don't. You only get suspended for today."
"But why?" I perfectly knew the answer to that question. I don't know why I even bothered asking.
"Well," Mr. Colton cleared his throat yet again and placed the notebook back on the table. He intertwined his own fingers before looking at me with that very familiar expression I've seen countless of times on different people. It was the look of fear-- fear of being ruined by crossing my family and the words that came out of his mouth afterwards just confirmed that. "you're aware that your family has been one of the major stock holders of this school and fifty or so other respectable universities and colleges in the country, like Harvard, Columbia and Princeton to name a few. If we want to continue sending students to those notable Ivys, we can't punish you beyond what your mother has agreed with us on."
"That is not fair! I mean, Vie deserved what she got. She had it coming. But if this was done by another student, they would've gotten more than just a suspension for less than two hours from school." I was gripping the arm of the chair I was sitting on so hard my knuckles already turned white. My reaction, however, earned me a sincere smile from Mr. Colton.
"You are truly one of a kind, Ms. Rockefeller. No wonder a common friend of ours is so fond of you." He chuckled.
"Common friend?" I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion for a second or two before realizing who he was talking about. "Nevermind." I quickly said, looking away from Mr. Colton once I started to feel heat emitting from my cheeks.
"Anyway, I have a 3:50 appointment with another student. It was truly lovely having you in my office again, Ms. Rockefeller. Though I am hoping the next time won't involve an injured student." He chuckled, standing up from his chair.
"Thank you, sir." I stood up from my seat and took my bag from the floor. Mr. Colton walked to the door and opened it for me. I made my way towards the open door, giving Mr. Colton a smile before finally exiting the door.
What I came face to face with, or in this case who, when I went out was someone I wasn't expecting to see there.
"Harry! Young man, you're early for our appointment." Mr. Colton beamed as he walked out, giving Harry a manly hug before he pulled away. Harry wasn't fazed at all, however. His eyes were locked on mine as Mr. Colton continued to speak.
I couldn't make out what Mr. Colton was saying with how loudly my heart was beating inside my chest. My knees went jello and there was that whole feet cemented on the ground dilemma. This must be how it feels to see someone you have finally admitted you like, even if it was just to yourself.
The look on his face was anything but pleased to see me. It was a scary look, one that I had no desire in seeing ever again. Unfortunately, that wasn't the very last time I saw that look. The last time I saw that was much much much worse than this one. We'll get to that one day.
"I'm gonna leave you two for a while. Ten minutes would suffice?" Mr. Colton spoke, breaking the silence I didn't even realize surrounded us. "Okay then. I will be in my office, Harry." He nodded, closing the door behind him, leaving just me and Harry in the hallway.
Earlier that day, I already had it planned. What I was going to say to Harry, how things will go between us, everything was planned. Obviously, things didn't go the way I expected them to go and the look on his face was enough to say that there was no chance in hell that things will go that way from this point forward.
"We need to talk."
Geez. Why do people keep on saying that? Just get to the freaking point.
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as I pursed my lips and nodded my head. "Sure, what about?"
"Is it true?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Is it true that you punched Genevieve and gave her a black eye?"
"Oh, that." I placed a hand on my chest as I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding. "Yeah, I did. But it's not a big deal--"
"Not a big deal?" He cut me off. His voice echoed all throughout the hallway, making me jump a bit in surprise. "She landed herself in the clinic. I was told they're bringing her to the hospital in case she has some sort of trauma."
I furrowed my eyebrows and crossed my arms in front of me. "How'd you even--"
"I heard about the fight. Everyone's talking about it so I visited her in the clinic to check up on her. She was sleeping when I got there so I stayed until she was okay." He admitted, taking a step closer to me as he ran a hand through his hair. His facial expression was anything but amused.
How did I miss the part where he was still friends with Genevieve freaking Matthews? Is this what feelings do to people? Turn them into complete idiots?
"Bloody hell, Ronnie. What were you thinking?" He raised his voice in frustration, waking me up from my trance.
"She had it coming, Harry. In my defense, I warned her. I told her, I'll punch her in the face if she called me honey one more time. I'm not in the mood to put up with anyone's bull, okay? I told her off but she didn't listen. Maybe this time she'll learn her lesson and know better than to think I make empty threats." I explained.
"Do you do this all the time? Hit people? Do violent things when you don't get your way?"
"Excuse me?" I gasped, appalled by the words that left his mouth. "Oh, wow. So now you're judging me?" I shook my head, letting out a dry laugh before I faced him again. "I never claimed to be an angel. I'm no good girl. Everyone knows that I'm no Mother Theresa reincarnation. Why are you acting surprised? So what if I am like this? What? That makes you and Genevieve better? Is that it?"
"I should be asking you that question, Veronica."
I shivered when he called me by my whole name. It really did get real. From all the years I've known Harry, not once has he ever called me by my complete first name.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"You know what? Forget it." He shook his head, walking past me and heading straight to Mr. Colton's door. "It's my fault for thinking you were actually different from Rachel, from everyone in this bloody school and your stupid social class. Bloody hell! I'm so stupid for thinking you were better. My bad for bloody putting you in a pedestal when you're just like everyone else. You're just like your mother."
Okay, those words hit me like a yellow school bus. He knows how much I hated the social status quo and how people in my social class acted. He should know this better than anyone and yet here he was, accusing me of being exactly what I hated. Who even gave him the right?
"You don't know the whole story, Harry. Stop acting like you do. You of all people should know that I'm not like that."
"Really? You're not? From the looks of it, you are. You hit Genevieve because you know you'll get away with it. Want to know why? It's because you're up there and she isn't."
"She's not middle class. Stop acting like you know her place in--"
"She isn't, but she's not exactly in the same league as you Rockefellers, yeah?" He scoffed, looking at me with-- should I call it disgust?
"You of all people should know I'm not like that. But then again, maybe you don't know me, Harry." I looked down at my feet, pained by the things he said.
"You're right. Maybe I don't." At that, he turned the knob to Mr. Colton's door and went inside, leaving me all alone outside.
I let out a sigh, wiping the tear I didn't even know ran down my cheek as I walked to the main entrance of Trinity where I was informed my service was waiting. My mom's driver held the door to the limousine open for me as I climbed in without muttering a single word.
My mom had a calm expression on her face. A smile crept on her features once she saw the look on my face. "I told you that boy was bad news." She looked out the window with a pleased expression. "From now on, you will do exactly what I say. If you don't, I will have no hesitations in sending you to a boarding school in Russia, Veronica. Am I clear?"
"Crystal." I spoke expressionless. There was no point in fighting the inevitable.
I should've known that day wasn't my day, but as per always, I'm too stubborn and blinded by the things I want to see that.
Maybe Harry was right. Maybe I'm no better. Maybe I'm even worse. I wanted to slap him. I really did. I just didn't have the strength in me to do so.
I guess what hurt the most wasn't the fact that he was accusing me of things I knew were lies. It was the fact that I still liked him despite the hurtful things he said that hurt me badly.
I, Veronica Solenn Ortega-Rockefeller, just gave someone enough power to break me in ways I didn't even think was possible.
The saddest part of it all was, that argument with Harry was just the beginning.
****
I've been listening to waaaaaayyy too much Mumford & Sons.
Let me know your thoughts by leaving some comments or tweet your thoughts, favorite parts, quotes or anything using the hashtag #1DMUTSS! I love reading what you guys think.
SONG FOR THIS CHAPTER: Holland Road by Mumford & Sons
OFFICIAL UTSS TRAILER: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rxtro0h5PAw
Much love,
- Kendall xx