Under The Magnolia Read online

  helping to carry the thick quilt that was trailing on the floor. When we get to

  the front door, I see cop cars everywhere and I must make some sort of

  strange whimpering sound out loud because the boys all freeze and back up,

  trying to put me on the couch.

  But being in the house that my father had been keeping me prisoner in

  was even worse than facing all the commotion so as soon as we were

  sitting, I rolled off the couch and crawled towards the daylight.

  “Oh, Butterfly, I’ll carry you. Just hold on to me. We can talk to them

  when you’re ready, okay?”

  I nod and he carries me towards an ambulance that has some paramedics

  waiting to check me out. Alex was glued to my side, his hand stuck tight on

  mine as they checked my vitals and asked about injuries.

  Aside from some malnourishment and dehydration there was nothing

  much wrong, so they let me go after administering some IV fluids and

  collecting promises to feed me. The boys had no problem with those orders

  and were quick to pull me away from everything the second the fluid bag

  was empty.

  ∞∞∞

  It takes a few days of being somewhere safe before I start feeling close to

  my normal self again, though showers don’t happen unless I’m fully

  clothed. I can only change clothes in the pitch-black closet, and I shake the

  entire time until my body is covered again.

  Amy has been cooking comfort food left and right trying to tempt me, the

  boys staying home from school to watch over me. Amy doesn’t even put up

  a fight when all three of them insist on sleeping with me, none of them

  feeling ready to let me out of their sight, even to sleep.

  Waking up with their arms around me, hands touching me everywhere,

  stops my panic attacks before they happen every single morning. It’s like

  my body recognizes them instinctively. But it should, they’ve been my

  whole world since I was five.

  “What are you thinking about Amelia Poppy?”

  “I just like waking up next to all of you. I missed you guys.”

  Constantine buries me against his chest, breathing in my scent.

  “Are you ready to talk about it yet?”

  “I…don’t know that I ever can. After I had to go through it all again with

  the police, I just don’t have it in me. And I don’t want you guys to have to

  imagine everything, I don’t want you to see me differently.”

  “If we looked at you different from your re-telling, it would only be

  because we’re furious that you were mistreated. Thank God that fucker is in

  prison because I’d be planning murder otherwise.”

  “You guys can’t do anything to get yourselves in trouble, I need you too

  much.”

  “You’ve got us, Mils.” Cam’s warm breath behind me and Constantine’s

  chest in front of me, Alex’s hand resting on my hip, the world slows down.

  I feel something slip onto my wrist and look up at it, curiosity burning

  through me. It was a gold band with “C+A+C+A 4 EVA” inscribed on it.

  “Oh, God you guys are still dorks.” But I was crying again, because it

  was perfect.

  In the aftermath of my Father’s arrest, it was a flurry of police interviews

  and my boys trying to shelter me. Eventually their mother made them go

  back to school, allowing me to stay home with her and continue with the

  online school I’d been doing until I felt ready to handle the mass of students

  again.

  Plus, we were waiting to hear from my social worker because

  realistically I couldn’t live with Cameron’s family forever.

  The day came where we were called in for a meeting, and my Aunt

  Margaret was there with my awful cousin Sophie. Sophie has always hated

  me because when we were little, my mother had put us in pageants together

  and she was somehow still bitter that I always won them. Plus, some girls

  just had the innate need to be a bitch.

  I saw the way her eyes tracked my boys when I passed her to go into the

  room my Aunt and social worker were in, luckily Amy was able to come as

  well to help me stay calm.

  “Okay, Ms. Knight. Since your father is incarcerated, we have contacted

  your other family, and your Aunt Margaret has so graciously agreed to take

  you in. You will be living with them until graduation in a few years.”

  “I am more than happy to have her live with me, Ms. Tarney. It would be

  no trouble at all. It would be awful to move her, mid-year, from her friends

  and familiar places after all she’s been through. Honestly, she’s like a part

  of my family anyway.”

  Aunt Margaret scoffs and looks down her long, crooked nose at Amy.

  “That would hardly be appropriate Mrs. Hughes. A teenage girl, living

  with her boyfriend? I have heard all about her proclivities, and I have found

  the perfect place for our young, impressionable girl. Amelia will be heading

  to Texas for a boarding school that serves troubled souls.”

  I want to puke. “Troubled souls? You do realize I’m the victim here,

  right?”

  “You will address me with respect, Amelia. As I said before, I know all

  about your multiple boyfriends, and I’m sure you enjoyed your captivity.

  This school will cleanse you of your sickness and restore your purity.”

  I look at Amy with panic, knowing that if I get taken from those boys

  again my soul will be more than just troubled. It will shatter and break me

  completely. But I realize now that that’s exactly what my Aunt wants.

  The case worker seems a little uncomfortable, but when Aunt Margaret

  produces brochures from the school, proving it’s legitimate and not some

  back water cult thing, she has no reason but to award custody to my Aunt

  anyways.

  I sprint out of the room, scared that if I stay in that room one minute

  longer, I’ll scream and get checked into a mental ward instead from the

  impending breakdown. Hadn’t I dealt with enough shit already?

  I fly out of the doors, straight into the growing hulk that is Alex. Banding

  my arms around his neck, wrapping my legs around him, I bury my face

  into his neck and try to imprint the way his skin feels on mine.

  “What’s wrong, why are you crying again?”

  Sophie giggles and I don’t have to look up to know that Constantine is

  glaring at her with those dark eyes that I love so much.

  “Momma probably told her all about her new school. Are you excited,

  Amelia? I heard no one comes out of there sane. Don’t worry, I’ll look after

  your boys for you. Momma said we’re moving into your house.”

  “What the fuck is she talking about, Mils?”

  I start crying harder trying my best to fuse myself to Alex so no one can

  take me away from him. From them.

  Amy comes out of the room, chastising Sophie before I hear two sets of

  footsteps walking away. Amy herds us down the hall, into the living room

  right after the front door of her home closes.

  Thank God Amy has the details and can tell the boys what’s happening

  because I don’t think I would be able to use my words to tell them I can’t

  stay with them. Surely it would smite me, to speak such blasphemous

  words.

  Alex grips me tig
hter when Amy is done, and the other two boys explode

  into yelling, demanding for other solutions. I can hear how upset Amy is

  when she explains that Aunt Margaret gets the final say, leaving us alone as

  she goes to the kitchen to make dinner.

  The other boys sink onto the couch on either side of Alex, and I move to

  Constantine to begin the imprinting process on him as well.

  “She can make you go away, Mils, but she can’t keep us out of your life.

  You’re 18 in a couple years. There’s nothing in the world that could prevent

  us from finding you again and being with you.”

  I don’t have words to say right now, only emotions to feel and heartbreak

  to share.

  Cameron, age 17

  “What the fuck are you doing here? I told you, I’m not going.”

  Alex is all dressed up, a stupid tux on. How can he put effort into looking

  good for another girl? Even if he insists they’re just friends, we owe more

  loyalty to Mils than this.

  “Get over yourself. I already told Sophie and her friends that we’d

  accompany them to the dance, so if you stand them up you’re just going to

  look like a jerk.”

  “I don’t like Sophie or her friends, so that doesn’t really matter, does it?”

  Alex looks all exasperated with me, like he expected me to just roll over

  and offer myself up as a teenage sacrifice to formal dresses and high heels.

  “Cameron, I’m trying here, okay? I get it, it sucks she’s gone still, but we

  can’t just spend all our time at home moping. I’m sure she’s off doing fun

  things at school, too, making new friends, having new experiences. What do

  you think she’d say if she knew you were cutting yourself off from life?”

  “You have no right to talk about her when you’re dressed like that for

  someone else. You may have been too scared to admit you’re in love with

  Amelia, but I’m not. She’s been my world since we were 13. The longest

  you’ve ever dated someone is like two weeks.”

  “She’s mine, too, Cam.”

  “Is she?”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean? I thought the idea was we all

  get to be with her?”

  I lean my head against the door, tired. Tired from not having her here,

  tired from always fighting with Alex, tired from having to act like

  everything is okay when it’s not.

  “I can’t do this tonight, Alex. I’m sick of fighting with you. You want to

  go to the dance with Sophie and her minions, be my guest. I can’t touch

  anyone else.”

  “That’s not what this is, Cam.”

  “Then what is it?”

  I finally see the real him break through, his eyes desperate as he reaches

  out to grab onto me like he’s dying. I can see the way he’s been torturing

  himself, replaying everything, imagining he could have changed something,

  anything.

  “I can’t sit still, Cameron. I swear to you, Sophie is just a friend. It’s sick,

  but being around her is like having a small tie to Amelia, because they share

  blood. I know they don’t get along and that Sophie can be…irritating, but

  this is the only way I know to cope with the situation.

  “Please, Cam. Don’t make me do this alone. If I stay home I’ll end up

  doing something stupid and I can’t.”

  And just like that, he’s won the argument. I’d never agree to go to

  another dance for a girl if it wasn’t Amelia, but Alex is my brother and if he

  really needs me, if this will help him stay in touch with reality, I can’t deny

  him.

  He low-key wipes a tear from his eye, like he thinks I’ll demote him if I

  see him show how much our separation from Amelia is hurting him.

  “It’s okay to hurt, Alex. We all are.”

  “I thought we’d hear from her by now.”

  We head upstairs and he waits on my bed while I dig through my closet

  for the tux my mom insisted on buying. She said there was never an excuse

  not have formal wear that fits. Looks like I’d need it after all.

  “Sophie keeps talking about her like she’s gone-gone. Like she doesn’t

  want to come back. Saying that she doesn’t want us.”

  I freeze where I’m at, shirt half buttoned and peer around my closet door.

  “Please tell me you’re not buying into her bullshit.”

  “Is it bullshit?”

  “Alex. Are you seriously saying you believe Amelia would willingly

  leave us and not tell us why? That’s stupid. Have some faith.”

  “Why hasn’t she spoken to us yet? Sometimes I feel like I can’t

  remember the way her voice sounds. This town is like haunted, I can’t do

  anything without thinking about the way she’d smile at us when we made a

  stupid joke or the way she’d kiss one of you then glance at me to make sure

  I wasn’t offended or embarrassed. Why didn’t I fucking kiss her when I

  could?”

  “You got there eventually. You weren’t ready.”

  “What if-”

  “Alex, you’ve got to stop the what-if game. Look, I’ve been reading up

  on that school they put her in, it’s pretty extreme. They say they pride

  themselves on immersing their students with protection and creating

  fortitude. I googled pictures of it, read all kinds of accounts by students that

  graduated from there…it’s not a nice place.

  “They don’t allow their students any outside contact unless they’re on

  break, and all mail is filtered and held or returned if they feel it’s not in their

  students’ best interests.”

  “So…you’re saying she hasn’t reached out to us yet because she can’t?

  She’s been gone for a year.”

  “I’m saying, have faith in our girl. We can’t make her come home sooner;

  all we can do is wait for her.”

  The dance is just as awful as I’d imagined it to be, and I know that if

  Amelia was here, she’d be making fun of the crepe paper decorations and

  disco balls. I was trying my best to stay away from my date, making up

  excuses every time she looked like she wanted to ask me to dance, but so

  far, I’d evaded her.

  I couldn’t even remember her name, if I’m being honest. She was just

  another face in the crowd, eager, with too much makeup and too-little dress.

  She kept eyeing me like she wanted to eat me, and it was making me really

  uncomfortable.

  True to his word, Alex was trying to forget everything by going all in,

  dancing but not doing the slow shit. Every time the beat started to slow,

  we’d high tail it off the dance floor and crack up from behind some

  decorations at the way the girls would stomp their feet and whine. Jerks?

  Yeah. But it was still funny.

  We were waiting behind the pushed-back bleachers that folded up into an

  almost a wall with wood paneling in front of it, and sneaking sips of

  whatever Alex poured into his flask. We had been hiding probably a little

  too long because the girls showed up, clearly over the whole being-ditched

  thing, and just started pulling us out. We were a bit drunk by now, so it

  wasn’t too hard for them to do.

  Before I know what’s up, I’m back on the dance floor and she’s (still

  don’t know her name) got her hands around my neck, swaying back and


  forth to some cheesy R&B ballad. Everything comes into focus all of a

  sudden, and I panic. I hate Alex for taking me here, I hate myself for letting

  another girl think she could touch me.

  She tries to press herself against me, her sequins chafing my palms, her

  lips tilted up, as if they want to be kissed. I push away from her, screaming

  ‘no’ over and over again and can’t stop wiping my hands against my legs,

  like that will get rid of the way it felt to hold some other girl’s hips. I grab a

  hold of Alex where he’s looking way too cozy with Sophie, ripping him

  from her and we don’t stop moving until we’re back in the parking lot of

  the high school.

  “I’m never fucking doing that again.” I punch him, and that seems to

  sober him up.

  “Fuck.”

  Yeah, those words pretty much sum it all up.

  Amelia, age 18

  I silently sing myself happy birthday as I braid my hair for the day. We’re

  not allowed to have mirrors here, because they encourage vanity. Vanity is a

  sin.

  I can’t help but wonder what my boys are doing today. Did they go to our

  tree? I pinch myself when I think about them as mine. My counselor told

  me I should do this anytime I have impure thoughts of the boys.

  At first, I was furious when they tried to tell me that loving three boys

  was wicked. They didn’t know those boys like I did, didn’t see the way

  their faces lit up when they saw me. Didn’t feel the lurching euphoria of

  butterflies when one of them held my hand or kissed me.

  But, after endless sessions of written lines, it has become ingrained in me

  to think that perhaps I was a little wicked. Maybe father knew that, and

  that’s why I was always punished.

  I got to go home for the summer again, but like last year, Aunt Margaret

  kept me locked in my room. A different one in the attic, only allowing me

  outside for an hour or two at night where no one could see me. She didn’t

  want neighbors to think she was supporting my wicked habits.

  Without a phone or email I haven’t communicated with the boys since I

  was forced to leave, but I scratched a message into our tree below the heart

  that still shows. Just a simple ‘miss you’, but they’d know it was from me.

  I could see from the dusty window the numerous times they’d tried

  visiting me in the summer, and I cried every time Aunt Margaret turned