How I Became A Socialite

Wesley

With the way things have been going on lately I should have expected the Jessica Diner Incident, but I never seem to see these things coming. Wesley said about me when I was seven that "She never sees anything coming, like she could be on a railroad track with a train coming her way and she still would never know the train was coming." I suppose he was right. I drive to the woods where I am scheduled to meet Wesley.

The woods around Porton surround a crystal clear lake that is used as a recreational facility during the summer. When I was a little wounded girl I spent my afternoons picking grass near a huge oak tree. I wrote some poetry which my mother forced me to burn. I don't think I have written anything ever since. 

"Georgianna slash Emma," somebody says. I jump. Wesley always had the peculiar ability to make little to nothing sound when he walked. I grab in my arms and give him a firm hug. Whatever issues I have with Wesley disappear and we sit together by a log near the lake.

"Are you interested about why you are here?" Wesley asks.

I look into his eyes and stutter "Being here with you I sort of forgot."

He sighs and looks conflicted when he says "You can't forget with the stakes we have."

What was that about? My life was rather interesting, but the dangerous part has been eliminated years ago.

He halters and says "My mother is getting out of prison."

The shock from that sentence hits me like an iron ball to the chest. How could anybody let somebody so despicable out of prison? I know she only got ten years, but I never thought this would ever happen. Wesley was right to call me out here. The danger of Caroline Madison being out on the streets looking for her son are great. Caroline would make a huge fuss to the press, and then everybody would be looking for us. 

"She will be looking for me," he comments as he picks on some dry grass.

Out of nowhere he puts on a huge grin and says "Want to swim?"

He grabs my hand and leads me knee deep into the water. I throw a little bit of water on him which he responds to with a huge splash! We look like a bunch of kids playing in the water and out of the blue he cups my face in his hands. "Emma, I have been meaning to tell you something." What could he possibly mean? He starts to say something but is interrupted by a fish jumping out of the water and flopping against his leg. This makes us both burst out in a fit of giggles and snorts. We get into our separate cars and drive back to our homes. Wesley lives in a tiny home on the opposite side of the house where I reside. When he first got shipped out to Porton he live with my family. My mother used the cover story that he was the son of a close friend who was in Europe on business. Wesley is admit tingly cute, and I distinctly remember the satisfaction when Khloe developed a crush on him. That was every useful.  Wesley could get her to do anything, and she was way nicer to me. Then Wesley ended up dating Jessica, and Khloe just got really angry. 

When I arrive home Maria gives me a pointed look. I question her, and she tells me a certain Daniel Newman called to say that 'he missed me and when was I coming home'. This doe not go very well with the fact that we are not in a relationship anymore, and Maria probably assumes I was lying. Which I am not. I tell her that I will call him back, and she prepares dinner. Dinner is a four course meal of bread and oil, delicious salad, cheddar and bacon soup, and pasta with chunky tomato sauce. Maria is an amazing cook, and her pasta is my favorite.

I lie awake that night trying not to think of Daniel and thinking of nothing else. With Caroline Morgan on the loose, my face on tons of newspapers, and Wesley acting strange I end up thinking about a trivial thing like romance. Romance has never really mattered much to me. I liked Daniel, but I have a long list of things more important than relationships. Ever since I was ten I became a lot more practical. I suppose being taken into custody for protection by the government does that to a person. 

The night that Mr. Morgon (Wesley's father) and my father were shot while I was playing chess with Wesley. The buzz about my father was dreadful, and I had gotten very little sleep the night  before. My mother had told me to go play a game with Wesley and so I obeyed. I do not remember who was winning, but I do remember the shots. Two bangs that nearly stopped my heart with terror. I had watched enough television to know what a gunshot sounded like. My mother locked the doors, turned the shades, and made  us crouch low until the police came for us. I remember getting the news that our fathers were dead. That way the only time I ever saw Wesley cry.