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Prologue

Gabby Fifteen years old

I’ve always been the good girl. The do as she’s told girl. Never puts a foot wrong girl. I know when to voice my thoughts and when to be quiet, when to smile and when not to, when to be gracious and demure. To remember my manners and to know my place, and my place was to be a wallflower. To never cause a fuss, to blend in, and never be a nuisance. Until one night, something happened that rocked my family’s world, turned it upside down and inside out, all because I forgot my place, and now, we are all paying the price.

The plan was always to move to New York so I could attend Juilliard, my dream, or rather my mother’s dream. Becoming a prima ballerina was always what I was raised to be. It was the only time in my life I took center stage in anything; when, just for a moment, all eyes were on me and my talent, and I felt seen. But now I’m not sure Juilliard is on the cards. My father suggested it might be best if I do something a little moresensiblewith my life. Something that would not only benefit my familybut also a potential husband and his career. Because that was another expectation. I’d marry well, play the dutiful wife, and produce children. What I wanted didn’t really matter. It was just what was expected from the world I was raised in.

“Gabriella, we’ll drop you off, and Albert will collect you after your meeting and bring you to the new house.” My mother's voice snaps me from my thoughts.

“You’re not going to stay with me?” I ask hesitantly.

My mother turns in the front passenger seat, her eyes hidden by her large Chanel sunglasses. Despite the aircon being on full blast and blowing in her direction, not a hair on her perfectly styled brunette bob moves. My mother will never look anything less than perfect.

“No, darling, we have to meet the removal company. I spoke with Suzanne on the phone. She’s expecting you.”

I nod in acceptance, anxiously chewing on my bottom lip.

“Gabriella, stop that. What have I told you about doing that to your lip?” my mother scolds.

“Sorry,” I mumble, looking down at my lap and intertwining my fingers, needing to distract myself from the nausea brewing in my stomach.

“We’re here,” my dad says with little emotion in his tone. He’s barely spoken to me, let alone looked at me, since everything happened. I know he’s disappointed in me. They both are. My actions could have ruined his career and caused quite the scandal, and even though they say what happened wasn’t completely my fault, their actions suggests otherwise. So, when they suggested I go to a therapy group, I agreed without protest. Do I want to be here? No. Do I want to share with strangers what I did? what I let happen to me? Absolutely not. But I need to make things up to my parents, learn from my mistakes, and move on. I want, no, I need them to be proud of me again.

I hesitantly step out of the car, brushing a nervous hand down my light blue summer dress and hooking the strap of my Louis Vuitton purse over my shoulder. I shut the door of my father’s Range Rover, taking in a deep breath and giving my parents a small wave. I don’t miss the way my mother waves back, but my father’s gaze remains head on, and it hurts to not have him acknowledge my departure.

I wonder if there will ever be a day where my dad can look me in the eye again.

I turn to face the run down looking building, gripping the strap of my purse so tightly: like it’s the very thing holding me up right now. I head towards the door, heart thumping in my chest.

You can do this, Gabriella. just one foot in front of the other.

I push through the glass door and I’m instantly met by a woman with gray hair, glasses, and a wide, welcoming smile from behind a glass screen.

“Hey there, sweetie, are you here for the TeenHood meet?”

I nod, biting down on my lip anxiously. She gives me a sympathetic smile and steps closer toward the glass panel that separates us.

“It’s the second door on the left. Ask for Suzanne when you get in there. Don’t worry, they’re a nice bunch.”

“Th-thank you,” I manage to get out.

I walk down the narrow hallway, the sound of my Prada sandals tapping on the hardwood floor echoes around me. I note the sign on the brown door, stuck on with Scotch tape that saysTeenHood.

Closing my eyes for the briefest of moments, I take in a deep breath before pulling open the door. Stepping inside, the room falls silent, and all eyes are on me. I stand frozen in the doorway, eyes wide, as I scan the room and the faces staring back at me. The room is full of girls, maybe twenty, at a guess. Most around my age or a little older, all scattered around the room, sitting ona couch, at tables, drinking mugs of something, or playing card games.

I startle when a hand is placed on my shoulder, and I let out a little squeak, completely caught off guard.

“Oh, my goodness, honey, I’m so sorry. I’m Suzanne, you must be Gabriella?”

I take a second to register her words and focus on her. Red hair, black thick-rimmed glasses, clutching a clipboard, and wearing a white t-shirt with a badge that says Suzanne, TeenHood Counselor.

“Uh yeah, yeah, I’m Gabriella,” I say, my mouth feeling dry.

“It’s lovely to meet you. I’ll introduce you to a few of the girls, then once you’ve settled, me and you can have a little chat. Does that sound okay?”

Remembering my manners, I straighten my spine and give her the smile I spent years perfecting. “Sure, that would be great. Thank you so much for having me here today, Suzanne.”

“Follow me.” She gestures, and I do. Walking behind her, I feel myself shrink under the weight of the stares. I follow Suzanne over to what looks like a canteen hatch. The sound of laughter floats through the air and it makes me smile.