Authors: Elle Cosimano
The entire school might as well have been watching when we pulled into the lot. It would have been enough just to show up on the back of his bike, but between Reece’s battered face and the disquieting buzz around school since the class trip on Friday, it felt like every eye at West River was on us. As well as a few others I hadn’t planned on.
Reece wheeled slowly past an unmarked cruiser. The plainclothes officer was parked directly in front of the crosswalk, taking inventory of the morning deluge behind a pair of dark sunglasses. As we passed, he drew the handset of his radio to his mouth, following our every step from the parking lot to the front door.
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until the door shut behind us. I exhaled long and slow, but that microscope feeling only got worse once we were inside. People looking down their noses, trying to dissect what we were doing together. We were the object of whispers and stares from the moment we crossed the threshold, ten minutes earlier than usual.
Ten minutes earlier . . .
I jerked to a stop, Reece pulling up short behind me. “Oh, no. Jeremy! I was supposed to ride to school with
Jeremy.” I calculated the distance home. If I hurried, I could make it in time.
Reece grabbed my hand, dragging me down the hall in the opposite direction. “Tell him it was my fault. He’ll get over it.” He repositioned my hand in his leather riding glove and slowed to walk beside me. I took a few hesitant steps.
We were holding hands.
In public.
In school.
Intentionally.
“Do you mind telling me what we’re doing?” I ignored the curious eyes and pointed fingers, the whispering behind cupped hands.
“I’m walking you to class.”
“I mean what are we doing . . . as in you and I . . . together?
As in
this
.” I lifted our joined hands.
“I thought we already talked about this.” He cocked an eyebrow but kept walking. “What? You don’t like holding my hand?”
“No . . . I mean, I do . . . I mean . . . No!” Even if I did like holding his hand, that didn’t change the fact that he was using me.
I shook him off and stopped in the middle of the hall, forcing him to turn around. “Don’t play games. You know exactly what I mean.” My voice bounced, too loud against the blueand-white walls.
He played it cool, casually stripping off his gloves and stuffing them in his pockets. Holding his bare hand palm up, he waited for me to take it. “I’m not playing any games. I’m just walking you to class.”
“Why would you do that?” Fine. If he insisted on denying it, I’d pry the truth out of him. “Who am I? I can’t be your girlfriend. You already have one!”
He glanced around and lowered his voice. “What are you talking about? I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Really? I’m not sure Gena would agree with you.” “Gena’s not my girlfriend!” Curious heads turned our way. “Do you always leave your clothes in not-your-girlfriend’s car?”
Reece dragged me into an empty bank of lockers.
His guilt and shame surged through me the moment we touched. “Can we please talk about this somewhere else?”
He clenched his jaw and spoke through his teeth. “You’re attracting attention.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted. Why else would you tell me what to wear and how to act?” Two girls in hemp skirts shouted something about girl-power. Bodies lined up at each end of the row, blocking our way out, but I didn’t care. I just wanted him to tell me the truth. “When are you going to come clean?”
“Come clean about what?”
I stared hard into his eyes, as if I could hurl the words at him without speaking them.
I know who you are.
He pulled back an inch, his eyes flashing between mine.
His face blanched and pupils dilated, and I could see the exact moment when the realization slammed into him.
She knows who I am.
A wave of panic crashed over his face.
“You’re making a mistake. Don’t do this,” he whispered.
Sweat beaded on his hairline.
I was sick of the lies. I was tired of not knowing what he really wanted from me, or what information he was feeding back to Nicholson. “The only mistake I made was agreeing to tutor you in the first place. But you don’t have to fake it anymore.”
He gripped my shoulders, fingers digging in. “I promise. We’ll talk later. About everything.” The truth was close. I could feel something in him about to break, and I couldn’t take the pressure anymore. I had enough of my own secrets without bearing the burden of his too.
I needed to hear him say it. “I know you’re not who you say you are.”
A crowd collected around us.
He shook his head. “Don’t.”
“I know you’re a . . .”
Reece’s mouth pressed hard against mine. A rush of emotions rolled through me, a barrage of tastes and smells so tangled, I couldn’t make sense of them. My protests muffled
against his tightly closed lips.
He pulled away just enough to whisper, “Please, don’t do this.” His damp forehead rested against mine, eyes searching for understanding. He was terrified. His fear was so thick and
suffocating, it drowned out everything else.
He was afraid of me, because I had the power to expose him, and his future depended on me. It hadn’t even been a real kiss. He’d just been trying to shut me up. I was just a job,
a ticket to redemption he probably didn’t even deserve. What about what I deserved? I brought my foot up hard against his shin. “Just say it! I already know . . .”
Reece stumbled and grunted, pushing me into a wall of lockers and pinning me with his body. His hands tangled in my hair, pulling me into him before I could say another word. He tried to kiss me again and I bit down hard. Felt him flinch.
Felt a shocking hot flare of emotion as his mouth crushed mine. His lips parted and I felt his tongue. I froze, startled by the unexpected taste of something decadent and sweet.
His fingers loosened in my hair and his mouth softened. He cupped the back of my head, and I clutched his jacket and kissed him back. I wasn’t sure if I needed to kiss him or kill
him, or if the need I was feeling was his or my own. Cheers and whistles erupted through the crowd. Reece pulled away, startled and red in the face. I licked my lips, copper and vinegar. His anger and humiliation tasted like a kick in the gut. My chest heaved in the tight space between us, that swollen horrible need threatening to burst. I slapped him hard across the face. People applauded and shouted, and I looked over Reece’s shoulder, spotting Jeremy’s pale face. Anh stood beside him, staring at Reece and me with wide eyes. She reached for Jeremy’s hand, but he turned and ran, shoving his way through the crowd. Every inch of me wanted to run after him.
Or maybe just run. The bodies parted and two security officers came toward me. I froze, but their eyes were locked on something behind me.
I turned. Reece was pale except for the handprint on his cheek and the cut that had opened where I’d bitten him. He swiped the back of his hand across his mouth, wiping the smear of blood on his jeans before the officers could see it. He shut his eyes. He couldn’t even look at me.
“I’m sorry,” he said, barely a whisper, as they took him away.
I spent first period under the willow tree outside school, not ready to face Anh and the barrage of questions she was sure to fire at me the minute I walked into lab. Jeremy didn’t come, and while I’d hoped he would, I guess I really couldn’t blame him.
When the second period bell rang, I pulled myself together and crept back in the side entrance I’d used to sneak out, avoiding the cop in the parking lot. I snapped open my locker. Two sheets of paper cascaded out, and a sleeve of Twinkies rested on the top shelf. I couldn’t bring myself to open them, so I reached for the notes instead. The first was in Reece’s scratchy block print.
WE’LL TALK LATER. I PROMISE.
MEET ME TOMORROW AFTER SCHOOL.
I didn’t have time to contemplate the meaning or what he planned to talk to me about, because the second note was more pressing—a pink slip directing me to the principal’s office. There was an X in the box marked
Urgent
and several exclamation points next to the word
Immediately
.
I’d known this was coming. Reece had practically body checked me in front of the entire school. And I’d drawn blood. Rumors were bound to get back to administration. I just didn’t expect it to be “immediately.”
I inspected myself in my small locker mirror. Girls walked slowly past my locker, staring as I scraped away a patch of dried blood from my cheek. My lips were still swollen from the kiss, and I bit them, feeling a momentary stab of guilt over Gena. He’d said she wasn’t his girlfriend, but having seen the way she cared about him, I wasn’t so sure she would agree.
None of that mattered, though. It hadn’t been real. He’d said it before, out loud, in front of Gena. I was nobody. A liability he was forced to silence with an artificial kiss. Lonny had almost killed him over his suspicion that Reece was a narc, and I’d threatened his cover. I’d left him no choice.
The second bell rang.
All I wanted was a ride home.
• • •
Principal Romero did indeed see me “immediately.” I sat in the chair across from his desk and looked down at the floor, humiliated.
“You missed first period this morning, Miss Boswell. Care to tell me why?” His tone suggested he already knew the answer, but he’d put me through the act of contrition anyway.
I had the overwhelming temptation to tell him everything. The ads, the numbers, the fights, how I’d seen Posie burning and Marcia on the bottom of the pool. I chewed my lip.
I took a deep breath, decided. I’d be safer under Frank Romero’s wing than in Lieutenant Nicholson’s custody.
“It’s all right, Nearly,” Principal Romero said, interrupting my thoughts. “I am aware of what happened with Mr. Whelan, and I assure you I am taking corrective action. He won’t bother you again. He’s been removed from West River High School.”
“Removed?” My head snapped up, my confessions forgotten. “What do you mean?”
“He’s been expelled. Security escorted him off campus a few moments ago. Now it’s only a matter of some paperwork.” He beamed down at me from his stupid faux-leather throne. Even if Reece had tried to fight it, it wouldn’t have mattered. Romero wasn’t ever going to give him a chance.
“It wasn’t his fault.”
The smile slid from his face. “Excuse me?”
“I was the one responsible.” Romero tossed his pen on the expulsion papers he’d been ready to sign.
I couldn’t let Reece go back to jail for something that was my fault. He’d only reacted because I’d provoked him. My behavior hadn’t left him any choice.
I cleared my throat, preparing to tell a story that I hadn’t quite come up with yet. Some excuse Principal Romero and the rest of the school would be willing to believe. I owed Reece this much.
“I wanted him to notice me,” I said, looking at the principal through lowered lashes, trying to gauge his reaction. “So I tried changing my hair and wearing different clothes. It didn’t work, so I did something stupid. I practically attacked him in front of a million people.” I cringed. It wasn’t entirely a lie. I’d threatened him, which could be construed as an attack . . . of sorts. Then there was the kicking, biting, and slapping . . . And plenty of witnesses to corroborate this slightly revised version of the truth.
“I understand there was blood involved? Did he hurt you?” Romero didn’t look concerned so much as hopeful. His chair creaked as he leaned into my story, waiting for it to crumble.
“No, sir. The blood was Reece’s. I guess I was a little rough.” I blinked hard, provoking a tear. It wasn’t hard, the truth cut deep. “But it doesn’t matter. He made his feelings perfectly clear.”
Romero handed me a tissue, studying my hair and my shirt, as if noticing for the first time that something was, in fact, different.
“That’s probably for the best,” he said. “Mr. Rankin tells me you’re awfully close to earning the merit scholarship in chemistry. I would hate to see you throw that away over a boy.”
I blew all my disdain into his tissue. He sounded like Mona.
“Besides, he’s a bad influence. You would do better not to associate with someone like Whelan. Trouble seems to follow him. Ever since he enrolled, there have been problems.”
I looked at him. “What kind of problems?”
“It’s none of your concern.” He pursed his lips. “The important thing for you to remember is that he’s not the kind of boy you should be friendly with.”
Something inside me snapped. I was sick of people telling me who I should or shouldn’t be “friendly” with. My voice climbed an octave and I stood up before I could rein in my reaction. “Regardless of whether or not he’s a nice guy, it was still my fault. It wouldn’t be fair to expel him for something I did.” I swallowed hard, hoping I wasn’t about to dig myself into a hole I couldn’t climb out of. “You should expel me instead.”
A silence passed.
Romero’s face was red and he loosened his tie with a finger. He only had two choices: Expel us both, or go easy on Reece in light of my admission. A vein bulged at his temple.
“I’ll take that information into consideration,” he said carefully. “Although I can’t guarantee it will change the outcome of my decision.”
We both knew it would.
I slung my backpack over my shoulder. The motion lifted the hem of my shirt, revealing a few inches of bare midriff, and I felt Romero’s gaze linger there.
I reached for Reece’s pendant as an excuse to cover my skin. Mona always said hanging out with boys like Reece would ruin my chances, make me into someone I didn’t want to be. And here I was, exposing myself and dressing in lies. I didn’t want her to be right.
“Mr. Romero?” I turned, one hand on the door. “Why was Reece in jail?” Something inside me needed to know, to reassure myself it had been a petty crime. A misunderstanding.
Romero fingered the expulsion papers, as if reconsidering. “He was responsible for the death of a student.”
“Who?” I heard myself ask.
“A senior. Shot and killed at North Hampton last year.”
• • •
I don’t know what I had expected to hear, but I walked back to my locker in a daze. The hall was empty, silent except for the murmur of teachers lecturing behind closed doors. I’d missed chemistry and almost all of physics, and for once I didn’t care. I walked slowly, taking the longest route through the front hallway and staring out the windows at Reece’s empty parking space as I passed. I’d been so close to telling Romero everything, but I’d chosen to protect Reece instead. I’d just saved him again, but why? Every time I thought I knew him—thought maybe I could trust him—I learned something about Reece Whelan that made me realize I didn’t know him at all.
I laid my head against my locker. It felt too heavy to hold up anymore.
We’ll talk tomorrow,
he’d promised. But what was there to talk about? I had one too many evasive killers in my life already and I wasn’t any closer to knowing who I could trust.
I spun the combination. The door rattled open, and I was greeted by Teddy’s drawing of the two of us holding hands on the carousel. Unable to throw away the yellow scrap of paper, I’d taped the memento inside my locker. It lifted my mood, but only for a moment. There was a note from Anh, folded to fit through the vent.