That’s the day Mia Patterson became Dakota Banks.
“You’ve got your own bathroom, too,” Tess gushes all of a sudden, like she can’t bear to leave just quite yet. She moves over to a shiny white door on sliders, like the barn doors at home in my grandparents’ house. Only, this one looks space-age. It’s shiny and perfect, and I don’t see any sort of handle. Tess seems able to slide it open with just a few fingers.
I step forward and peer into the room, finding it just as sterile and cold as the bedroom. At least there’s black marble on the floors instead of white, and the shower is big enough for four. A bathtub rests in the center of the room, with windows all along the wall. That’s the only thing I see that makes me feel any better. A bath in that giant tub, looking out at the water and the city lights across the lake, that should help a little.
But only a little.
I’d do anything to go home and soak in the old clawfoot tub in my grandparents’ house.
“Paul will be home soon, with the rest of your siblings,” Tess adds, and I can hear the slightest warble of nervousness in her smooth voice. “If you’re too tired to meet them tonight, we can go out for breakfast …”
“That’d be fantastic,” I blurt, wrestling my rebellious lips into forced smile Number One-Thousand. If Parrish is any sort of indication as to the reception I’m going to get here, I’d much rather wait until morning. Tess’ face falls a bit, but she, too, manages to maintain a smile.
“Sleep well, Mia,” she breathes wistfully, and then we both freeze up completely, any pretense of normality flying out the window. “I’m sorry, I meant … Dakota.” Tess pauses awkwardly as I do my best to swallow past the lump in my throat.
“It’s okay. We’re both working our way through this,” I respond with all the politeness my grandparents taught me but with absolutely zero sincerity. On the inside, I’m screaming. Why couldn’t you just leave me alone? Why couldn’t you just leave me where I was happy? Tess nods once, her smile faltering just a little, before heading for the bedroom door. She glances over her shoulder one more time before leaving, but whatever it was she intended to say dies on her lips.
“Goodnight … Dakota.”
Tess steps into the hallway, closing the door behind her. I don’t hesitate more than a handful of seconds before moving over to it and locking the handle.
I toss my backpack on the floor and then flop down on the bed, putting my face in my hands. I don’t cry. I’ve cried enough over the last several weeks. Instead, I gather myself together and pull my phone out of the pocket of my hoodie.
It’s hard to fathom the facts: that my family—that is, the Banks family—is legally obligated to refrain from contact with me for an entire year. So I’ll have time to adjust, Tess says. Personally, I think that’s the most awful and wicked thing anyone has ever done to me. I video-call my grandparents, but nobody answers. I can only imagine Tess’ scary expensive lawyers and fancy legal documents are keeping them from picking up. Doesn’t stop me from texting them though.
I miss you guys, and I want to come home. I send that off, and I don’t care if that makes my grandfather cry again. I need them to know how much I want out of this place.
Next, I video-call my sister, Maxine.
She, on the other hand, isn’t intimidated by anyone or anything.
“Dakota!” she calls out, appearing on my screen with a smile. We used to say we had matching smiles—the same small mouth and full bottom lip, a thin bowtie shaped upper lip. Guess it was all bullshit, huh? God, you sound bitter. Don’t do that to yourself, Dakota. There’s no sweetness to be found if you keep chewing on the same old sour crap. “Where are you right now?”
“My new bedroom,” I say, my voice strained and forlorn. I lift the phone up and pan it around so Maxine can see what I’m working with here. Multimillion-dollar views and about as much love and warmth as a block of ice. I turn the phone back to my face. “Maxie, I can’t do this.”
Her face softens as she sits down on the edge of her own bed.
“It can’t be all bad, right? Moving in with a famous author and a plastic surgeon? You could probably guilt-trip them into buying you a sportscar.” Maxine puts a hand to her chest, the phone jiggling around as she clutches it in the other. “A Ferrari. A white one with a red leather interior—”
“Maxie,” I scold, but I’m smiling anyway. I knew talking to Maxine would help. Besides, unlike my grandparents who are a forty-two-hour drive away from me, Maxine is going to the University of Oregon in the city of Eugene which is only four and a half hours south of here. We’re actually closer now than we were when I was living at home. Silver linings and all that. “You’re probably right, but I don’t want a Ferrari; I want to go home.”
