Anonymous(62)

“Dad received a call earlier tonight. He called me looking for you because your cell was going to voicemail.”

“It’s dead.”

Quinn nods. “Anyway, I’m sure you know how your night went, but Mom and Dad received an eyeful when some journalists sent them pictures of you. I had to talk Dad into staying home, but he’s angry, Elle.”

“Well, his sister didn’t almost die, did she?”

“At some point Peyton’s accident can no longer be your excuse. You used it to ditch out of a semester of school. You’ve used it for your grades and now this.”

I turn away when I feel unshed tears threatening to escape. My throat tightens and my body starts to ache. The impending onslaught of tears makes it hard to speak.

“These people you’re hanging out with are making sure everyone knows everything about you. Every night they posts videos of the person we love, falling down drunk, hanging on strange men, and almost passed out in random clubs, for our viewing pleasure.”

“I haven’t seen anything like that. How do I know you’re not making this up?”

“Why would I? Why would I stay up until after three a.m. to have this talk with you if I were making any of this up? I value my sleep, Elle.”

“My friends wouldn’t do this.”

“They’re not your friends. They’re leeches, using you for your connections. They’re using you for the star power that comes with saying they’ve hung out with you. They don’t care about you, no more than you care about them. How do you think Mom feels when she sees her daughter like that? Or Dad? Or the industry? You want to be a manager, but who’s going to bring you on staff when they can Google you and see what your lifestyle is like. Like it or not, we’re expected to act a certain way, behave as respected adults in the community. I don’t think our parents are asking too much of us.”

“And what if I don’t want to, huh?” My tone is defiant and harsh.

“You don’t have a choice.”

“Says who?”

Quinn adjusts in the chair. He pulls out his phone and by his movements, I’m guessing he’s thumbing through his apps. He clears his throat. “Mr. and Mrs. James, We’re writing to let you know our facility can accommodate Elle Powell-James when you see fit to admit her. Please note, this is an intense ninety-day treatment and visitors will not be allowed unless family counseling is needed. We will restrict all outside communications as well. We have a strict paparazzi rule and our guards will ensure that all photographers are kept off the property to protect Elle’s privacy. Once you have your legal affairs in order, please let us know.”

I swallow hard as I try to understand what Quinn is reading, and am unable to hold my tears at bay any longer. My parents aren’t messing around, but what they don’t understand is, I’m an adult and I can make my own decisions. If I want to party, I can. If I want to drop out of school, I can. If I want…

“As you can see, Mom and Dad have had enough.” Quinn interrupts my thoughts. “And I think you know this, which is why you’ve been ignoring their calls, not going home to see them and dodging their visits.”

“I haven’t--”

“You have. Before Peyton’s accident, you and Mom spoke daily. When’s the last time you spoke with her? When’s the last time you’ve been home? If I had to guess it was when Peyton was living there, but you haven’t been back since.”

“Texting is easier.”

“Only because you can avoid the elephant in the room. You need help, Elle.”

“I’m not going to some celebrity rehab center, Quinn.”

“Then stop!” His voice echoes off the walls. “Grow up and start acting like someone who has a future instead of the Hollywood cliché.”

“I’m not--”

“You are. That’s what gets me the most, Elle. This person you’ve become is the same person you’ve mocked since you moved here. All our lives, you’ve said you’d never become the socialite who uses her name to get into clubs or restaurants, and now look at you. You’ve become the epitome of someone you despise.”

“You don’t understand.”

Quinn nods. “I know, Elle. Peyton almost died. You’re twins, you felt it. I’ve heard every excuse you can come up with, blaming whatever it is you have going on, on Peyton and the accident.” He adjusts in the chair and leans forward with his arms resting on his legs. “Peyton’s healed. She’s moved on. She’s planning a wedding, finishing college and trying to make peace with her life. If she can do that, then so can you.” He taps my leg before getting up and leaving the room. I glance at the empty space Quinn’s left behind. The bright light blinds me, causing me to turn away. As soon as I hear Quinn’s door shut, I let the tears flow and the anger build. No one is going to tell me what to do with my life.