Breaking the Wrong (33 page)

My shoulders shrug. “I need time,” I say slowly. 

“What’s this girl’s name?” she asks.

“Emiliana Wentworth.” Her full name is still foreign to me. I watch Mae’s face slowly. Her eyebrows raise and I know she recognizes that name. “Do you remember her?”

Mae scoffs loudly. “Ridiculous question, Macsen. How old do you think I am? Of course I do.”

I brace my arms on my knees and rub my temples. “Then help me with this.” Anxiously, I lean forward. “I was a name on a list that was created only for revenge. I just want to know why. Why was I on that list? Tell me all you know about the Wentworth girls.”

Mae sighs and looks over at me sympathetically. “I can tell you some things, but nothing that would be on school records.”

For twenty years, Mae was a teacher at St. Xavier’s Girls Academy. She retired two years ago. Mae was the teacher that missed nothing and while most people complained about her, it was only because she didn’t allow any bullshit in her classroom.

“I need answers,” I explain quietly. Looking down at the ground, I slide off my baseball cap and grip my hair in frustration. “I need you to tell me everything you know about her family.”

I look back at Mae. All my hurt is clear in my eyes. Her eyes flit away and look down at the ground before she gives me a brief nod and stands on shaky legs. She motions for me to follow her into the dining room and she points to the cabinet across from the table. “Open that up for me, and grab the second book from the bottom.”

Frowning, I bend down in front of the cabinet and see stacks and stacks of scrapbooks. I count fifteen as I grab the second book. There’s nothing decorating the front. It’s a plain green scrapbook.

Mae sits down at the head of the table and I set the book down in front of her and sit next to her.

She flips through the first few pages and a small smile appears on her face. I peer over and see they’re just pictures of her students. When she reaches the middle, she stops and slides the book over.

Mae points her small, wrinkled finger at a picture. “That’s Emiliana’s sister, Elizabeth.”

I look closer at the girl. Elizabeth has shoulder-length hair that is a dark shade of red. It is thick and straight. Her smile is bright and filled with happiness. Perched on top of her small nose is a pair of glasses. The similarities between Emilia and her sister are there. Elizabeth just looks so young and sweet.

Looking up at Mae, I point to the picture. “When was this?”

She looks over at the picture. “2008.”

My eyes are glued to the picture. I stare into Elizabeth’s face, trying to figure out how the hell I’m linked to her. “Emilia said her sister wrote in her journal about me.”

“Oh yes,” Mae says confidently. “Then you are definitely talking about Elizabeth.”

I glance over at her. “Is there more than one sister?”

“Yes, there is one more girl. Eden is her name, I believe. She is a few years younger than Emiliana and Elizabeth.”

My frown increases. “Are Elizabeth and Emilia twins?”

“No, they were triplets.” Mae pauses and absently stares at the table. I wait impatiently because the story is starting to unravel. I realize I know nothing about Emilia—nothing at all. “Now I know his name but I can’t remember…”

“Aniston,” I supply darkly.

Mae snaps her fingers. “Yes! That’s his name.”

I didn’t know Aniston. I just knew of him. He grew up in New York while I was in and out of the city. We had a few friends that ran in the same circle, but he was a dick. I never bothered talking to him.

“Elizabeth was a sweet girl.” Mae says sadly. She laces her fingers in front of her, while her eyes trail over the picture. “She had struggles her whole life.”

“What do you mean?”

“Macsen, I love you, but this is all confidential. I can’t tell you.”

Resting my hands on the table, I lean close. “Please—” I let the single word hang in the air. I’m desperate. “I’m in the dark with all of this. Everyone seems to know everything except me.”

Mae shakes her head back and forth and looks down at the scrapbook.

“She had a mild case of cerebral palsy, and that caused some brain damage. Elizabeth struggled in school, but I swear she never gave up.” Mae lets out a deep breath and stares down at the pictures. “She was in the same grade as Emiliana but mentally she was behind her brother and sister. I saw Emiliana with Elizabeth and she was great. She treated Elizabeth like nothing was wrong. It was the best thing for Elizabeth,” Mae confesses.

She turns the page and points to a picture with Emilia and Elizabeth. The two of them were dressed in the St. Xavier uniform. Emilia has her arm wrapped around her sister tightly and the two of them look like best friends. That picture makes it hard to hate Emilia because the smile on her face is one that I have never seen from her.

“I loved when she came into my classroom. I had her every other day for history and math and she was a chatterbox, always telling me something. She was such a joy to teach,” Mae says sadly.

My eyes narrow suspiciously as I replay Mae’s words over in my head. “You keep saying
was
.”

“Macsen,” she sighs out and shuts the scrapbook. She laces her fingers and solemnly looks me in the eye. “She died in 2009.”

Mae’s confession makes me instantly sit straight in my chair. I release a deep breath, take off my hat, and tightly warp the bill in my hands.

“How did she die?” I ask.

“Elizabeth killed herself,” she confesses. “I don’t know much, except that her brother found her.” 

I sit back in my chair as the air whooshes from my lungs.

“Holy shit,” I mutter.

Mae glances at me disapprovingly before she purses her lips and stares at me. That makes me nervous.

“What?” I ask cautiously.

“She used to talk about you … a lot.” 

My chair suddenly feels uncomfortable and it’s quickly becoming harder to breathe. I shoot out of my seat and pace the floor in front of me before I turn and look at Mae. “What would she say?”

“That you two would talk for hours. She had quite a crush on you.”

I feel like I’m in some fucked up vortex of confusion because even Mae thought I had talked to this girl. My innocence is the only thing I have at this point and even that feels like it’s hanging by a thread in the eyes of others. Others who have always known me, understood me.

Rubbing both hands down my face, I stare at the polished dining room table and shake my head. “I don’t know her.” I look up and stare Mae directly in the eye. “I have never seen or talked to her before in my life.”

“She talked about you constantly—said that the two of you talked all the time.”

“But it wasn’t me!” I grip the chair in front of me until my knuckles are white. “You think I would lie about this?”

“Macsen, calm down. Elizabeth was young and sweet and I’ve seen so many girls have crushes. I assumed you were just that.” 

My head hangs low and I breathe deeply through my nose. “But I clearly wasn’t just a crush. Not when she was telling people I was talking to her, when I never was!”

“Then you should clear your name,” Mae says firmly.

“Do you want to tell me how?” I push myself away from the chair and start to pace again. “Everyone thinks I did something to this girl … a girl I didn’t even know existed until a few days ago!”

“Talk to your Emiliana.”

A short laugh escapes my lips. “She’s not mine.”

Mae tisks lightly. “Your eyes tell me that she is.”

I stop walking long enough to look at her solemnly. “She isn’t.”

Mae shrugs as if it’s old news. “Then talk to her brother. What’s his name again?”

“Aniston,” I say automatically, but my mind is on other things. “They both think I did something to her. That’s not a good idea.”

“Then you do nothing, my boy.” She stands, grabs her walker and gives me a stern look. “Stand still and do nothing, while the past runs over your reputation. Or you can be the Macsen I know and fight for yourself.”

I give her a blunt nod and slam my hat on my head before I slowly walk back into the living room with her. When Mae is settled back in her chair, I clear my throat. “You believe me, right?”

She grabs the People magazine next to her and drops it onto her lap before she looks up at me. “Macsen, I’ve watched you grow up and I know when you’re lying. You’re terrible at it.” She starts to flip through the pages and gives me a pat on the hand. “Of course I believe you.”

Silently, I nod my head and walk out the door.

At least someone believes that I’m innocent.

MACSEN

The flat screen television mounted in the corner is stationed to ESPN. Ironically, Thayer’s jersey fills the screen as he makes a steal and runs down the court. I turn away from the screen and look around the bar.

Sitting here on a Friday afternoon isn
’t what I had planned, but I know Aniston comes here twice a week. 

Deciding to take Mae’s advice, I called up a few of
my high school friends that know Aniston. They told me where to find him. Emilia isn’t really an option right now. How could she be? I can’t think straight around her.

The door o
pens and I keep my face straight and watch Aniston Wentworth walk in. He picks a table in the middle of the room and sits down casually.

I figured out quickly that when he’s not in class, he works at his dad’s law
firm. I found out his dad is a prominent lawyer in New York with one simple click of a button. It’s amazing what Google can tell you in 0.30 seconds. When I typed in the name Emiliana Wentworth there was next to nothing on her. Every link was directed to her dad, Gregory Wentworth. Her family has money and they had apparently used it to cover up their daughter’s death because other than one obituary, I found nothing on her suicide.

She’
s the forgotten girl—completely erased from the world
.
 

A waitress comes up to take his order and he doesn’t smirk or flirt. He does nothing but bluntly tell her what he wants.

Impatiently, I wait until his beer is in front of him before I make a move. He watches the screen and nods his head at the game. His guard is down and I take that opportunity to step off my barstool and walk toward his table.

He doesn’t even notice me until I clear my throat.

Aniston shoots out of his chair and slams his palms on the table. “Walk away, Sloan.”

I give him a glance and sit down in the seat across from him. “Shut the hell up, Wentworth. We need to talk.”

Aniston doesn’t move. His arms are clenched tightly to his sides and I know he’s barely holding back. Aniston is like a crazed animal, looking for a fight, looking for a kill. He holds my stare without blinking, and I think the crazy asshole is completely balls to the wall. He could break his beer bottle in half and cut me to death without blinking.

“Sit down,” I tell him darkly. “I just need to talk to you.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I give him a smirk. “Well
, I have something to say to you.”

He mutters curses underneath his breath, most of them ending with ‘go fuck yourself’ and sits down loudly in his chair before gulping back his entire beer and ordering another drink.

Aniston never looks at me, but when his head becomes lowered, I decide to speak up. “Look…” I start out, “I never knew Elizabeth.”

His head snaps up so quickly, I’m surprised it doesn’t break. “I’m not Emilia. I’m not going to believe anything that you say.”

A new beer is placed in front of him and he quickly takes a drink while I talk.

“I’m telling the truth.” Aniston grunts and I keep talking. “I’ve never talked to Elizabeth before in my fucking life.”

“Bullshit.” Aniston slaps his hand on the table and leans close. “My sister was happy until you fucked it up.” He points a finger at me and I’m about two seconds away from grabbing his index finger and breaking it in two. “Elizabeth thought the world of you.”

“If you knew that I was talking to your sister, why didn’t you say something? We went to school together, you could have
talked to me.”

His eyes veer down to the table as he clinches his jaw. “I didn’t know until it was too late.”

“And afterward?” I push.

“I didn’t
know about you until a year ago,” Aniston admits darkly. “Emilia’s known a lot longer. She has the journals with your name in them.”

“Someone used my name,” I explain solemnly. “I wouldn’t lie about this.”

Aniston leans back and loosens the tie around his neck. “Liar,” he grits out and crosses his arms. A few seconds later he changes his mind and quickly leans closer. “Is that what you do?” Aniston ask darkly. “You lure innocent girls on the computer?”

Pushing my beer aside, I lean my face closer. “What?”

I heard the word
computer
and that’s all I can focus on because I rarely get online. I’m illiterate when it comes to computers and all the social networks. I rub my hands against my jeans as I try to find all the pieces to the most fucked up puzzle ever created.