Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 80834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 404(@200wpm)___ 323(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
When I get home that evening, the house is so bright it hurts to look at it. Every single light is on, like they’re filming a hostage video in the living room, and sure enough, my parents are waiting. Nancy sits at one end of the sofa, hands folded over a balled-up tissue, eyes as red as her favorite Pinot Noir. Gerald is parked in the recliner, hunched forward, forearms resting on his thighs like he’s about to stand up and tackle me through a plate glass window.
I want to turn around, but I don’t. I close the door and drop my keys into the dish, the jingle echoing through the silence.
“Eliza,” Dad says, voice flat and final. “Sit.”
I sit. My heart’s already thumping out a fight-or-flight rhythm, but I try to look as blank and harmless as possible. If there’s an award for “Best Impression of a Daughter Who Has No Idea What’s Coming,” I nail the audition.
Nancy breaks first. “Honey,” she whispers, “we need to talk.”
I don’t answer, just wait for the bomb.
Gerald clears his throat. “I checked the browser history on the iMac,” he says. “On Tuesday morning, and again yesterday. There’s some unusual activity. Websites that aren’t, um, appropriate.”
My stomach lurches, but I keep my eyes steady. “I use the computer for work sometimes. What kind of sites?”
“Don’t play dumb,” he says. “This isn’t pop-up stuff. These are cam sites, Eliza. With chat windows. I even clicked one. It’s…” He shakes his head, at a loss for words. “It’s filth.”
Nancy dabs at her nose. “Sweetheart, why would you even—”
“I don’t,” I say, cutting her off. “I mean, it could be anything. Malware, a virus, a bot—”
“No, it isn’t,” Gerald says, voice sharp. “The browser logs say the same site was visited three times in four days. ‘Nubile Girls dot com.’ Once at 3 a.m too. You can’t tell me that the computer did that on its own at 3 a.m.”
I stare at the carpet, picturing exactly where in the site I was, and how sure I was that I’d wiped my tracks. Oh god, oh god. Why did I use the family computer? I was so stupid, but I was running out of memory on my laptop, and so I decided to do a quick fix on the family one downstairs. I’ve screwed up, bad. My cheeks burn, but I say nothing.
“Is this because you’re lonely?” Nancy says, her voice cracking. “Is it because your friends are all moved away, or because you’re not happy with us?”
“Mom, it’s not like that,” I mumble.
“Then what is it?” Dad snaps. “You think this is funny? Some joke? Do you think it’s okay to do whatever you’re doing on these sites in my house?”
He’s shouting now, and I can feel the neighbors’ ears pricking up across the cul-de-sac.
I take a breath, let it out slow. “It’s not a big deal, Dad.”
Gerald surges up from the chair. “It’s not a big deal?” He’s red, veins throbbing at his temples. “You are on camera! We know you are, Eliza! Don’t pretend because why else would a young girl like you be accessing a triple X streaming site! That’s what you’re doing! Stripping! Talking to perverts! Are you out of your goddamn mind?”
Nancy gasps and buries her face in her hands. “Please, Gerald, stop yelling—”
He doesn’t stop. “You could ruin your whole life with this. If anyone finds out—if this gets to the wrong person—you’ll never get a real job. You’ll never get into law school. You’ll be humiliated, and so will we!”
I meet his eyes, even though my chest is caving in. “I’m not ashamed,” I say. “I don’t care if people know.”
My dad gapes at me, stunned. “Why? WHY would you do this?”
I feel something loosen inside me, something that’s been wound tight for years. “Because I want to,” I say in a defiant voice. “Because it pays. Because I’d rather make my own money than beg you for it. Because I don’t want to live at home forever because I can’t afford to live on my own!”
Gerald’s face goes slack, then hard. “You have no idea—”
“I’m not apologizing,” I cut in, louder than I mean to. “It’s my body. My life. I can do what I want. I’m twenty-one years old, and not a child anymore.”
Nancy finally looks up, mascara pooling under her eyes. “Are you… is someone making you do this, Eliza? Are you being blackmailed, or threatened?”
I almost laugh. “No, Mom. It’s just me.”
“Is there a man?” Gerald demands. “Is some guy making you do this?”
I open my mouth to say no, but the words won’t come. Jack’s face floats up in my mind: the smile, the blue eyes, the calm that cuts through every storm I ever bring him. Suddenly, I feel safe telling the truth because I know my boyfriend has my back, no matter what.