Dark Heart (Dark Heart 1)

“I’m not lying. He’s a really nice guy, but we aren’t like…close or anything.”

“So you are distantly friends.”

“No, Dad.” Tears gleam in my eyes, accompanied by a swell of dismay at myself for sounding so plaintive. If there’s one thing my father hates, it’s weakness. I blink quickly, willing my tears not to fall.

“Why are you having this reaction, Elise?”

“I’m upset about Becca!” My voice shakes with fury, and my father lifts his dark brows.

“Would you like to tell me how you ended up leaving this party more than an hour after police were summoned? And why you were in a dark yard with a boy you don’t know well and aren’t close to?”

I inhale slowly, knowing that what I say and how I say it really matters. Then I look into my dad’s eyes, keeping my face as emotionless as possible.

“We weren’t alone, Dad. There were other people all around.”

“That’s interesting news. I was up and down the driveway several times, and I saw no one.”

“We were out back by the docks. Cleaning up the Solo cups the other kids left.”

“Oh, so there were Solo cups.”

“Well, yes, but not mine. You can smell me if you want to.”

My dad lifts a brow again, and I feel stupid for suggesting it.

“What’s his name? This nice boy…”

“Why does it matter? I already said he’s not my boyfriend or someone I’m close to.”

“It matters because I asked.”

“Okay…well.” My stomach twists. “His name is Luca.”

“Luca. What’s his last name?”

“Dad, it’s weird to have you asking this. It doesn’t matter. What are you going to do, like call his parents? Because you saw him in a yard with me?” I’m trying to keep my voice steady, but it keeps rising on key words.

“I don’t know. I might. That’s my prerogative as your parent. I can do as I choose—as long as you’re under this roof.” He says it grandly, like a tyrant’s proclamation.

I wish I were anywhere else. But I nod—because I have to.

“What’s his last name?”

“Dad, that guy is not my boyfriend.” I swallow as tears blur my eyes and bite down on the gum again.

“What is Luca’s surname, Elise O’Hara? You’ve gone from grounded for seven days to grounded for ten. And that includes extracurriculars like running, tennis, debate club, volunteer Saturday with that other club…”

I jump up, unplanned. “What?! You can’t do that! You—”

His face hardens. “I can and I will, unless you tell me that boy’s last name.”

“I don’t want you getting him in trouble, Dad!”

“What makes you think I would?”

“Because you’re acting so crazy about it!”

“Now it’s two weeks.” He tilts his head slightly, looking at me curiously. “How much is this worth to you? For a boy you barely know?”

I can’t explain it—not with words. I just have this feeling, like I have to protect Luca.

“I care because you’re being mean.”

That makes my dad chuckle, and it proves me right; it is a mean sound.

He picks up a frame on his desk. The framed item is a handkerchief, embroidered with vines twined into the shape of an “A”—for amore. My mother’s father gave it to him on their wedding day, making my dad promise to take care of her forever.

“Mean.” He looks up at me. “Now you’ve earned yourself a month.”

My body flashes icy cold. “A month? Of being grounded? For not telling you some guy’s last name?”

“For not telling me Luca Galante’s last name.” He holds something up—and I realize it’s the program from the football game.

“How did you get that?” My face burns. “Did you go there?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you have me followed, Dad?”

His eyes narrow. “Someone left it on the lawn. I picked it up. Galante is a name I recognize.” He gives a little shake of his head. “The Galantes are not good people, Elise. Not people I want you spending any time with.”

“What? The Galantes. Like you really know them? He lives in Red Hook!”

“I thought you two weren’t close.” He quirks an eyebrow, giving me a look straight from the courtroom.

“I know that about him. You don’t know shit!”

He presses his lips together, glancing briefly down at something on his desk then back up. “I know what I need to know. Don’t ask how, because it doesn’t matter. Nor do I feel inclined to answer you. But let me make this very clear, Elise O’Hara: If I find you are cavorting with the Galante boy in any way—be it at a football game after school or sitting with him at lunch or looking at him in the hall or in any way—there will be consequences that will shock you. The biggest one being, no Columbia.”

My stomach hollows. My mouth falls open. I close it and try to make words. “No—” I can’t find the words to express my dismay. “You’re saying you won’t help me…go to college?”