The First Day - Wesley
If you’ve read Loved by You or Lily In The Valley, you know both stories start in the same place. A memory. The moment Zay and Khalil realize they are helplessly in love with the women in their lives. For Nessa and Zay, it was an intimate moment in a college dorm. For Kelly and Khalil, it was over a shared bag of Hot Cheetos with the Jamie Foxx show playing in the background.
And now, it’s Wesley’s turn.
The scene below takes us back to Wesley’s first day of school at Crestwood Academy. He’s still getting adjusted to Houston after spending so much of his life in New York. You’ll see some familiar faces in Vanessa, Kelly, and Nyah, all teenagers. During the chaotic first day moments of trading schedules and dishing about teachers, Wesley’s forced to adjust to his new normal.
Welcome to Crestwood Academy.
***Please do not share outside of this space. Also, the excerpt below hasn’t reached the editing stages yet. Words are subject to change by release.***
Prologue - Wesley
“Gots 2 Be” - B2K
Crestwood Academy - August 2005
“Welcome back, everyone! I hope you’re all excited for another year at Crestwood Academy. Here are your schedules. Become familiar with your classes and their locations. We have a new wing thanks to the Wright family.”
The teacher, who must’ve been a nun in a past life, beamed down at me with rosy cheeks, placing a paper on my desk. I slid it aside and turned to the window. Crestwood Academy – nestled in a forest of trees – stared back at me. Green, manicured lawns. Terracotta-colored brick facades. I could just make out the glass front addition my father paid for to get me into the school. The entire campus and every other location in Houston were overly large and blocky. Design choices I’d pegged as quintessential “Big Texas Money.” A far cry from the colonials and brownstones I’d once called home. Aged, rust-colored brick. Paneled glass windows. Legacy. Old money. But here, everything was new. New house. New school. New normal.
And I hated it. Every bit of it.
Around me, classmates traded schedules, sharing remarks about teachers they had and whether or not they could transfer out of them. I looked down at the abandoned piece of paper on my desk. Geometry, Biology, Pre-AP English I, AP Human Geography. A host of electives I couldn't care less about. Ugh, how am I supposed to stay awake all morning with this schedule? It’s going to be a snooze fest.
“Wesley, stop glaring and let me see your classes,” Vanessa called out from behind me. I passed her the paper, taking in the way other students turned their necks to watch our exchange. It was strange, being looked at so closely. Not because of who my father was. But because I was the shiny new object, others had to decide what to do with me. Analyze its features. Determine if I was worth the investment.
I didn’t want to be new. I wanted my old friends who knew their place. I wanted my old room with its perfect view of Central Park. And most of all, I wanted to rid myself of the nagging feeling of betrayal lingering in my chest. The one that moved in after catching my mother kissing Santa during the Christmas Party about half a year ago. My jaw clenched.
Vanessa and Kelly continued to dissect my schedule. “Oh no,” Vanessa groaned. “You’ve got Stricter Richter.”
“My older brother said she’s hard as shit. Gives these discussions every week. Choke up, automatic ‘F.’”
I sized up the boy sitting beside me. Tall, stocky build. Cornsilk hair. Blue eyes. The twang in his voice grated on my ears. Yeah, he must have taken too many kicks to head back on the farm.
“Discussions for Freshman English pale in comparison to those I’ve heard sitting in business deals with my father,” I replied, dismissing his warning.
“That’s right,” another girl beamed, craning her neck in my direction, lashes batting. “Your dad just donated the new wing. The business wing.”
I nodded briefly, then prepared myself for the onslaught of questions about my family and his company. I leaned on the teachings of my father. Command the space. Let people know where they stand. Leave them wanting more. Question after question, I reeled them in like the men my father had bending at the knee during his business dealings. I understood the high he got from calling the shots. The thrill of watching people hang on his every word. This school? This would be my domain to run until he handed over Wright Horizons to me. I continued answering the flurry of questions coming my way. From the corner of my eye, I could see Kelly rolling her eyes and Vanessa pretending to throw up.
BRRRIINNGGG!
As the school bell rang, the students around me rushed to gather their belongings and head to first period. A few invited me to each lunch with them. The girl from earlier– Ashleigh with an ‘I” – proclaimed that I needed her to show me around the campus. I obliged, telling her to wait for me in the hallway.
“If you need a tour guide, you know me or Kelly could do that, right?” Vanessa asked, standing in front of me.
“Thanks. I’m good, though,” I replied, looking over my schedule again. “I’m sure Ashleigh will do just fine.”
“Why don’t you sit with us during lunch?” Vanessa suggested.
“Sure,” I replied, moving toward the door.
“Let him go, Nessa. He’ll learn soon enough how annoying she is.” She sized me up and kissed her teeth. “Then again, Wes is king of the douchebags.”
“And who are you? The head witch in the coven?” I smirked at Kelly. “Don’t you have someone else’s business to be in? I don’t need you telling me what to do, Kelly.”
She rolled her eyes.
“We’re just trying to look out for you, Wes. I know it’s been hard moving down here,” Vanessa sympathized.
My jaw clenched.
“Don’t worry about me.” I looked Vanessa in the eye, because my father said that’s how people know you’re telling the truth. His hack to ploy smaller companies into his fold, before he chopped them up for his own gain. I slung the genuine leather bag across my shoulder. “I told you already. I’m fine.”
“At least let us know if you need anything, okay?”
“I won’t, but I’ll keep it in mind. See you later.”
I don’t know why I snuffed Vanessa’s concern. Let our mothers tell it, the three of us were practically siblings. Still, hearing pity coated in her voice rubbed me raw. I didn’t do raw. I was being carved out of pure stoicism. Unreadable. Striking subtle apprehension from anyone I should come in contact with.
I left them standing in the classroom. As soon as I crossed the threshold into the hallway, there was Ashleigh with two other boys. Her smile perked up as I crossed the hallway and stopped in front of them.
“Wesley, you met Ethan. This is Jayden. And, Toni was telling us you two know each other,” Ashleigh finished with a quizzical expression on her face.
“Wesley, I was telling them about the time we hung out over Christmas break at Vanessa’s house,” the boy cheesed, looking around the group. “Remember?”
“Uh, yeah.” Christmas.
“Come on, before Richter locks the door on us,” Ashleigh laughed, leading the way to 1st period. She maneuvered so that the other guys walked behind us, spewing facts about the school, veiling her inquisition about how I knew Vanessa and Kelly here and there. I kept it short, noting that our mothers were all friends, sensing she’d do a lot if given too much information.
I moved through the rest of the day with relative ease, entertained by the other students in my grade level. Half-listened to teachers as they reiterated class expectations and syllabus details I was sure would go unnoticed and smoothed over after a sizable donation by parents. For the rest of the week, Ashleigh parked herself to my hip. Lunch with Toni, Ethan, and Jayden became routine. My mother sent a car for me. When I arrived home, she’d asked me about my day and if I had any homework. My father would call at 7:00 PM on the dot. Five-minute check-in. Said our goodbyes. I bunkered down in my room for the remainder of the night.
On Friday, my mother arrived with the driver and requested that the two of us go out for dinner. Celebrate my first week of school. I obliged. It’d been five days, and I was over it. Tonight, I’d ask to go live with my Father. In my old house. Go to my old school. With my old friends. The drive to the restaurant was silent. My mother and I sat in the back, shoulder to shoulder, the car curving around bended streets, turning sharply at tight intersections. Now and then she’d exhale, the smell of mint-coated alcohol tinting her breath. I watched her from the corner of my eye. Sometimes, I’d catch her staring back, pensively, a question on her tongue.
“Is there a reason we aren’t eating at home?” I asked, trying to break the constant drone of traffic outside.
“Nope. Just thought it’d be nice to do something different,” she replied, smiling the same way she did for pictures with my father. “Maybe celebrating the first week can become a new tradition, hmph?”
“Traditions are meant for families. We don’t have one.”
She winced.
“Wes, must you be so negative?”
The car clicked as we pulled up to the valet stand in front of the restaurant. My mother checked her makeup as she waited for the driver to open her door. Me, I exited the car, leaving the air with a response she’d never get.
Once inside, it didn’t take us long to be seated. Low tealights glowed off the cream tablecloths. I sipped my drink as my mother gulped down a glass of ruby-colored wine. Around us, low conversations hummed, punctuated with clinks of silverware hitting porcelain dishes.
“How was the first week of school?” she probed again. “You haven’t said much this week.”
“Like the first week of school,” I answered, scanning the menu.
“Are you making any friends? Vivian said Vanessa told her you weren’t interested in her friend group.”
“Dad says friends are only worthwhile if they benefit your goals. There’s nothing at Crestwood that can benefit me.”
She took another gulp and pressed her lips together. “That’s not friendship, Wesley.”
“You’re right,” I answered smugly. “Friendship is making out with someone who’s supposed to be my uncle, right?”
She took another sip. Then another. Longer this time. “I thought you liked hanging out with Vanessa and Kelly? You hung out with them a few times over the summer and said it was fine.”
“Correction. You dumped me off at Aunt Viv’s so you could continue smashing a wrecking ball through our lives,” I said dryly. She started to respond, but then the waiter arrived with our order. Once he left, she drained what was left of her glass, then pierced me with her eyes.
After a beat, she murmured, “How long are you going to stay mad at me?”
I didn’t respond. My focus stayed on the menu – steak and lobster or half-roasted chicken and potatoes.
“Wesley, some things you’ll understand when you’re older.”
Silence shrouded us through fancy appetizers. Our forks felt like hail against windshields as they scraped against our plates. The only communication between us were the somber-filled looks my way.
“I want to move back to New York. Stay with Dad.”
“Not happening,” she shut down, immediately. “How was your first week of school?”
“You asked me that already, or are you too drunk to remember?”
“Dammit, Wesley! Enough,” she seethed between her teeth. “I am your mother. I don’t need to explain myself to you.” She flagged the waiter over. AS she settled the bill, I moved around the remaining bits of food on my plate – too stiff stalks of green beans swimming in residual steak juice. Each stab of my fork weakened the vegetable, softening it in the pool of red-tinted liquid on the plate. It, too, probably didn’t understand the jabs being tossed its way, without cause or concern. It was just expected to sit there and take it. Be silent about it.
When we arrived home, we both escaped to our respective wings of the large house. Sitting at the desk in my room, I scrolled through my Facebook feed. I’d already been friended by a majority of the students in my grade and tagged in a few “1st Day of School” photo albums. I commented on a few, pity liked a post of Ashleigh’s. A few more scrolls down and I was hit with a barrage of posts from my friends back in New York.
“Just missing Wes,” someone had commented on my friend Z’s post.
I shut my computer. Lying on my bed, I stared at the ceiling.
Why am I trapped in this hellhole?
Let me know how you’re feeling about the first pages of Lady In My Life in the comments. Want to read the moment he meets Lyn for the first time? Join “The Writer’s Desk” using the link above. There might be another sneak peek waiting for you right now. Until next time!
With love,
Alexandrea LeChelle 💖🫒
