Author's note: This story is rated T for some language and suggested adult subject matter as well as discussion of anxiety, depression, childhood trauma (non-sexual), and death.

Disclaimer: I own nothin'.

I don't know what's going on

Something surely must be wrong

You're living secret lives.

—Electric Light Orchestra

Chapter 1

Oh No He Didn't

2004

It was Wednesday afternoon, and Catherine Frensky sat doing her bio homework at the kitchen pass thru. Ever the queen of teenage multitasking, she was also eating a snack of carrots and hummus she had made for herself as well as talking on the phone with her friend Tami. Had anyone else been in the apartment at the time, they might have caught her end of the conversation, but it was all harmless high school business.

"Why don't you go out with him if you like him so much?…Me?...Jason and I are friends, and it's going to stay that way…I do like him, that's why I want him to stick around. The 'we'll still be friends' thing never really works out. The good guys just sort of fade into obscurity. Sean's a prime example. He was cool, and now he barely talks to me. That's not happening with Jason…I do not have a stick up my—just do yourself a favor and call him up. He won't say no…All right…See ya tomorrow."

The kitchen became silent save for the occasional crunching of a carrot and the soft scratching of Catherine's pen as she moved on to rewriting her notes.

AROOO-GA! AROOO-GA!

She jumped in her seat. The submarine klaxon had come from her phone. There went her concentration.

"Frankie," she hissed, still clutching her chest.

Her nine-year-old sister's latest hobby, as part of fulfilling her annoying sibling quota, had been changing the sound for text alerts whenever Catherine left her phone unguarded, always to some kind of rude or obnoxious noise. The lock screen was a pain to deal with, but she would have left it engaged a while longer if she had not believed Francine had given up on it by now. Lesson learned.

When she would remember to change it back to her original setting later, Catherine would reflect on how eerily appropriate the sound effect had been. It had heralded a message that would bring on a craze of panic and concern, changing the course of a friendship and altering a family dynamic for years to come.

She picked up the device, sure that Tami was hitting her back with an excited message after hanging up with Jason. The text was short and simple, but it was not from Tami. It was from Chip.

I did it

Did it? Did what?

"Oh," she uttered now that she remembered their last conversation.

No, she thought. He didn't!

She would admit that she had Chip pegged wrong in a few areas. She had learned some things about him over the course of their short friendship that surprised her. But he was still pampered. He was a bit soft for the sort of lifestyle that required the skin of one's teeth and the seat of one's pants. There was no way he could have gone through with it.

Right?

A few weeks back, she had gotten a call from Chip well after midnight. Chip knew never to call this late on a weeknight, so she had figured it was a drunk dial. She quickly removed the vibrating phone from the nightstand and yanked her comforter over her head, hoping to shield her sleeping sister from the bright screen.

She was still groggy and her voice was barely above a whisper as she answered, "Some of us are expected at school at eight-fifteen in the morning."

She expected a slurred "my bad!" from Chip, accompanied with the ambient background noises of his frat house, blaring music with an errant Whoo! filtering here and there through the cacophony. What she got on the other end was quiet. She thought she could pick out crickets chirping, suggesting the Chip was at least outside and likely away from Fraternity Row.

"I'm sorry," he said after what seemed like an eternity. "I wanted to catch you earlier, but…"

His voice was shaky. He was not crying, but he sounded as if he could begin at any moment. This side of him was unfamiliar and alarming. Had something bad happened?

"What is it?" she said hastily, a bit louder than intended.

"I'm freaking out."

"Um, hold, please."

Catherine peered from underneath her comforter to make sure that Francine was still asleep. Her sister lay like a rock in the exact same position she had been with Nemo cuddled up next to her.

When Catherine had made it to the landing between floors, after sneaking out of her room, down the small hall and out of the apartment, she got back on the line.

"Okay," she continued quietly. "It's going to be okay. Just tell me what you took."

"What? I didn't take anything. I just really need to talk to someone."

A feeling of relief had quickly been followed with one of annoyance.

"And all the bros are tucked in for the night?"

"Screw them. I need someone smart."

It was drafty in the stairwell, and Catherine gathered her nightgown tightly around her legs as she settled down on one of the steps, hugging her knees to her chest.

"If this is about Lexie…" she began, referring to Chip's on-and-off between other girlfriends, the blonde from Theta Alpha. Chip always needed to know how he could get her to take him back, or how he could tell her he was sorry, yada yada. Catherine was not in the mood at such a late hour.

"I haven't talked to Lexie in, like, two months."

He sounded like he did not care about his status with her either. He sniffled. The South had never been kind to Chip's allergies, but Catherine had a feeling something else was to blame.

"Catherine, I—I don't think I want to do this anymore."

"Maybe tell me what's going on by using language that isn't cryptic and terrifying," she said.

"I don't want this life. Taltech, Omega Psi Phi…I hate it."

"Okay, so just talk to an advisor. Maybe you could transfer—"

"It's not just school. It's everything. I haven't wanted this for a long time. I thought I could warm up to it, you know, that things would eventually get better or I would accept it. But the more I think about it—where my life's heading, where I'll end up—I feel like I'm going to puke. It occurred to me that I've spent my whole life under Dad's thumb. What are those puppets controlled by strings?"

"Marionettes?"

"Yeah. That's what it feels like. I'm being pulled around and maneuvered into a position I never asked to be in. But I only realized it when it was too late."

"Have you been drinking?"

Chip gave a mirthless chuckle. His breath hitched, and she thought he might actually be crying now.

"Chip, listen to me. If this upsets you, you need to talk to your father."

"You think I haven't thought of that? What would happen if I did? I'm the first-born male. It falls on me to continue my family's legacy. That's how it's been for generations. If I just told him one day that I won't be doing that 'kay thanks bye, I think he'd go ballistic."

"I think you might be overreacting."

"You don't know my father. He'll get what he wants. Do you think he got successful without bending people to his will?" There was more sniffling. "I'm not sure how much more I can bend before I break, Catherine."

Catherine faltered on her words. He had slipped into a tone that made her uneasy. He sounded desperate. It was the middle of the night. He had not called her for advice; he was going to do something rash.

"What are you thinking about doing?"

Chip said nothing.

"What is it, Chip?"

"I've been squirreling money away. It started out as a just-in-case thing, but now it's like a real emergency fund. It won't take long, and I doubt Dad will miss it. Maybe someday soon I can get out of here and say to hell with all of it."

She could not help but chortle a bit as she said, "W-what?"

"You think I wouldn't do it?"

To be honest, she did think that, but she was not going to agitate him further when he was already feeling tender.

"I just…I'm not sure what I was expecting you to say, but it wasn't that. That's a big decision. A big change."

"Yeah, that's what I like about the idea."

"And that's why I hope you'll think about this carefully. Please. Don't rush to do this."

"Maybe I should've talked to one of the brothers," said Chip. "You're just trying to talk me out of it. I thought you, of all people, would understand that I need to live my own life."

"I do. I totally get that. But before you run off, will you at least promise that you'll try to make your father understand how much this is upsetting you?"

Silence.

"Chip? Did I lose you?"

"Okay," he said.

"Okay?" she asked hopefully.

"Yeah. Before push comes to shove I promise that, without a doubt, Dad will know exactly where I stand."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. And I think you'll find that you'll feel a lot better if you can just be honest, like a weight has been lifted off your chest."

"Yeah, maybe you're right. Thanks for the chat."

They said their goodbyes and Catherine made her way back to bed as quietly as she could.

She was not sure Chip was right when he said Mr. Crosswire could not be reasoned with, but she was relieved that Chip had agreed to talk to him. That was because she could not imagine not feeling free to communicate with her parents. It certainly was not because she thought he would execute his half-baked plan. Chip was a silver spoon kid through and through. He had been waited on hand and foot, spoiled and placated since the day he was born. And now he had a free ride to college and a beautiful Porsche he could park in front of Omega Psi Phi when he was not cruising around with one in a seemingly endless string of girlfriends. And it was all his by birthright.

What did he know about making it on his own? Not a thing. That was why the next time she got a call from him he would be back to whining about Lexie.

Catherine stared at her phone, racking her brain for anything else "I did it" could mean, wondering if it was time to panic. She dialed him with fumbling fingers.

"Hello." His voice sounded hollow.

"Where are you?" she blurted, breathing heavily.

"Outside O. P. P.," he said using the nickname the brothers had employed since the Naughty by Nature song had charted, though he said it without a trace of humor. He continued before Catherine had a chance to feel relieved. "I'm waiting on a taxi to take me to the bus station."

"Where?" She could not get the rest of her sentence out.

"Jacksonville. Then to Savannah. There are people there. That karaoke place I told you about? Friends of the owner."

"Why, Chip?"

"I don't have a choice."

"You do."

"He came down here. You should've seen him, heard the things he said… But I stood my ground, and guess what? He cut me off. Do you still think I was overreacting?"

"I'm—I'm sorry. What are you going to do?"

"I dunno, figure out how to survive. I'm scared, Catherine. But I'd rather be, you know? It's better than being his Mini-Me."

"What about your mother? What about Muffy?"

"What about them?"

"You don't mean that. I know you don't."

He exhaled. It spoke volumes about the burden he must be feeling.

"Look, I don't have a lot of time left," he said. "Once the taxi's here I'll leave my phone behind inside the Porsche. I'm surprised Da—he hasn't had it disconnected yet. It might be a while before I can get in touch with you again."

"But you will, right? You'll be in touch?"

"On one condition: You don't tell a soul where I am. No one. He's done with me anyway. But if he ever decides to ask around, you never spoke to me, got it?"

"Figure out how to survive" was a vague plan, and Chip had a severe lack of skills. What if he ended up in dire need of help?

"Swear to me, Catherine, or I swear to god this conversation is the last we'll ever have."

What could she do? If something went awry, she would be his only connection to those who could assist him. And they were friends. He could not leave her wondering, too. There was no way she could afford to sever their ties, tenuous as they were.

"Okay, Chip," she said, trying to hold back tears. "I swear."

To be continued…