Thomas closed his eyes. “The snow,” he said, curling his hands into fists at his side. “You’ve got to cover it up so nobody knows we were back there.”
The edge to his voice made Ariana cringe. She brushed the snow from Thomas’s curls, peering into his eyes. “Thomas,” she began, “I’m really—”
“Not your fault,” he said, a small smile playing across his lips. “I was stupid enough to stand under a window with a girl jumping out of it. I deserve what I got.” He slid down the trunk of the tree, settling onto the ground with a weak laugh. “Now go on, before you get us both expelled.”
She hurried along the back of the building and dropped to her knees in the snow, smoothing the spot below Thomas’s window where their bodies had landed. She moved backward, running her hands haphazardly over her two footprints and Thomas’s single footprint that traced their path to the tree. It wasn’t perfect, but it would have to do.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered, collapsing next to him. “Who tripped the alarm? Who would have—”
Thomas reached up and covered her mouth with his hand, shaking his head slowly. Someone was coming. She froze at the faint sound of snow crunching underneath someone’s feet.
“Hello?” A familiar voice echoed in the darkness. “Is anyone there?”
The footsteps paused by the back door, not far from their hiding place. Sweat dripped from Ariana’s temples and trickled down her flushed cheeks, despite the cold. She turned her head, peeking out from behind the thick trunk.
The slight figure of Dean Marcus, the dean of students, was huddled underneath a full-length gray wool coat. A plaid scarf was wrapped around his neck and a hat was pulled low over his ears, but Ariana recognized his stooped posture and his slow, shuffling walk. Dean Marcus was Headmaster Cox’s henchman. The man who was solely responsible for her future at Easton was standing just a few feet away.
Any student who is found to be in violation of these rules will face immediate expulsion. There are no exceptions. None.
It seemed like years ago that she’d heard those words during morning assembly, but now they came rushing back to her, threatening her all over again. If he turned around, he’d see them. But it was too late to move. Ariana closed her eyes, crossed her fingers, and hoped that a man as ancient as Dean Marcus had cataracts.
Just as the dean was about to turn in her direction, the lamps around Ketlar went out with a hissing pop. Everything went dark. The campus suddenly seemed colder. Deserted. Dead.
Ariana clutched Thomas’s arm.
“It’s just a power failure from the storm,” he whispered.
He reached for her hand and interlaced his fingers with hers,
squeezing them so tightly that her knuckles ached. His breath was shallow against her neck.
“At least now he can’t see us,” he whispered.
Beep, beep, beep.
Ariana’s heart stopped. Her phone.
“Hello?” Dean Marcus’s voice echoed all around him.
Please don’t walk over here. Please don’t walk over here. Please, please, please.
Ariana closed her numb fingers over her phone, muting the beeps.
The dean turned from the doorway. He was facing them now, squinting into the darkness. She waited for him to call their names. Waited for him to tell her that her life was over. That they were both expelled.
But he just sighed and turned away, leaving a jagged path behind him in the snow.
“Oh my God,” Ariana sighed, relief flooding her frozen body.
“Who the hell is texting you?” Thomas demanded.
Ariana flipped her phone open.
Daniel:
Ariana, this is unacceptable. Hope you’re ready to beg for forgiveness. WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU????
She turned the phone around to show the screen to Thomas. All at once, her stomach heaved. She swallowed repeatedly to keep from throwing up. Her skin burned in spite of the cold, and she tried to breathe.
“What an ass,” Thomas said. “Does he not know what’s going on out here?”
Ariana groaned. “Don’t you get it, Thomas? He
knows
where I am. He knows what we’ve been doing. He’s just trying to torture me.”
“You don’t actually still think that he’s here on campus.” It wasn’t a question, and she didn’t answer. “You’re being paranoid, Ariana.” But he didn’t sound as sure as he once had.
“Am I?” she retorted. “He didn’t even acknowledge the message I left him letting him know I was on my way.”
Ariana’s nerves crackled beneath her skin, and suddenly she heard her mother’s voice on the morning she’d tried to kill herself.
You never know what people are capable of until they’re pushed to their edge, Ariana.
Grimacing, Thomas drew his good knee to his chest. “So? He’s clearly a self-centered prick. He’s probably just ignoring it.”
Thomas shivered in the darkness. In the dim moonlight his skin was ashen. Ariana could have kicked herself for focusing on Daniel when Thomas clearly needed her.
“It doesn’t matter right now.” She anchored her palms against the tree and pushed herself to standing. There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t soaked. If they didn’t get out of there, find someplace warm to sleep, they’d freeze. “We’ve got to get you something for your ankle.”
“I’ve got some Vicodin in my desk. Second drawer.” He paused, closing his eyes. “But I don’t want you going in there by yourself. We’ll get it later. Let’s just get out of here.”
“No, I’ll go.”
She hoped the terror she felt at the thought of returning to Thomas’s room alone didn’t show. What if Daniel was there, waiting for her? But Thomas needed her. She reached into his jacket pocket, fishing out his lighter.
“Ariana,” he protested weakly.
“Don’t go anywhere,” she said dryly.
“Hilarious.”
You can do this, Ariana. Do it for Thomas.
As she sprinted for the back door, she couldn’t push the thought of Daniel from her mind, couldn’t stop wondering if he had been on campus the whole time. Watching her every move with Thomas. He could have seen everything. He could have watched as she lost her virginity to another guy.
And, Ariana reminded herself, if there was one thing Daniel Ryan hated, it was losing.
The biting chill in Thomas’s room hit her the second she walked through the door. Snow had drifted in through the open window, and the hollow sound of the wind rattling the glass made her skin crawl. She paused in the doorway, taking a slow, deep breath. She could do this. All she had to do was find Thomas’s pills. She’d be out of Ketlar and back with him in less than a minute. Everything was going to be fine. They were both going to be fine.
She held the lighter in front of her, moving slowly across Thomas’s room to his desk. The weak flame cast a shallow light over the items scattered across the surface: the pencils, the chewed-up ballpoint pen, the empty Captain Morgan’s bottle.
She opened the first drawer. Gum, old magazines, highlighters, and an article from the
Easton Academy Chronicle
about the soccer team’s performance in a local tournament. She stared at the crinkled black-and-white picture of the team huddled together on the field. Thomas grinned back at her, cradling the ball under his arm. Ariana
fought the urge to fold the photo up and put it in her pocket. There would be plenty of time for photo ops after this weekend.
Second drawer. The sooner you find the pills, the sooner you can get out of here.
She slammed the top drawer shut and reached for the handle below it. Two heavy packages of computer paper were stuffed in the second drawer. Nothing else.
The metal tip of the lighter was starting to warm, and she winced against the heat. Mind racing, she tried to think like Thomas. If she had a reputation for selling drugs, if she’d come close to expulsion several times, where would she hide her pills? He’d told her they were in the second drawer. Could he have made a mistake?
She pulled the heavy packages of paper from the drawer. Nothing but smooth wood underneath. She ran her fingers over the bottom of the drawer, and the wood tilted slightly under her touch. She pressed the far edge of the drawer, harder this time, and the edge closest to her tilted upward, revealing a stash of prescription bottles underneath. Jackpot. Only Thomas would think to equip his desk drawer with a false bottom to hide his drugs.
She lowered the lighter over the bottles and scanned the labels. Ritalin, Adderall, Percoset, Vicodin. And no two names on the prescription labels were alike. Thomas was running a black market pharmacy from his second desk drawer. The old Ariana would have been horrified, but the new Ariana just stuffed the bottle of Vicodin into her coat pocket and shoved the drawer closed. The sound of it slamming made her jump, and a small laugh slipped from her lips. Thomas was right. She was paranoid.
She pushed herself to standing with her free hand, but something
on the desk caught her eye. A sheet of paper she hadn’t noticed before. Ariana held the flame closer. It was a picture. As the lines and shadows on the page came into focus, her heart seized in her chest and she dropped the lighter.
No. No, no, no, no, no. No.
She shook her head in disbelief at the image in front of her. An image of Thomas and her, kissing in Daniel’s room. An image of her hands on Thomas’s body, unbuttoning his shirt. Her face wasn’t visible, but there was no mistaking her wet blond hair or her stark white coat. Someone had seen them together. Someone had proof.
It wasn’t possible. It couldn’t be. Bile rose in her throat. This one piece of paper would ruin her. Would ruin them. She let out a low, desperate moan, pressing her forehead against the surface of the desk. She needed Thomas now, more than ever. Needed him to hold her, to tell her that everything would be fine. She couldn’t believe that just minutes ago they’d been in bed together, happy. Calm.
Unlike her mother, who had given up on her life, on her husband, Ariana was determined to cling to that feeling of happiness for dear life. But first she had to find the lighter. Stuffing the picture in her back pocket, she dropped to her knees and slid her hands beneath the desk. After a minute, her hands closed around a metal rectangle. The lighter, thank God.
But as she stood, something warm in the bitter cold of Thomas’s room slipped across the back of her neck. A warm breath. New electricity surged through her body, and the hairs along her arms prickled. Someone was behind her. Almost touching her in the tarry darkness.
Someone had been waiting for her to find the picture.
Hope you’re ready to beg for forgiveness.
Could it be Daniel?
Suddenly it didn’t matter who it was. Whoever it was wasn’t supposed to be here. And clearly didn’t want her here. Instinctively, her hand moved toward the empty rum bottle on the desk. In one swift movement, her fingers closed around its neck, and she brought the bottle down hard against the corner of the desk. The sharp sound of shattering glass cut through the darkness, and she whirled around, swinging the broken bottle wildly in front of her.
A voice cried out in surprise, or pain. She couldn’t tell if it was male or female—or if was actually her voice. All she knew was that she had to fight. She sliced the bottle frantically through the air, jabbing this way and that, as she ran for the window, dropping it on the floor in the moment before she jumped.
Seconds later she slammed into the ground, harder this time, landing on her side in the icy snow. Her arm was twisted beneath her, and she groaned as she pulled herself to her feet.
Pulse racing, she looked up at the curtains that were fluttering in Thomas’s window. No one was there—at least not anymore. For a moment she just stood there, the snow swirling around her in the darkened campus, and she realized that never in her life—not even when she’d found her mother that awful afternoon—had she been as scared as she was right now.
“Ariana!” Thomas’s strained voice echoed in the darkness. No longer comforting, it radiated cold, hard fear.
The frigid air burned her lungs as she hurried toward him. He was slumped against the tree, deflated, his eyes screwed shut. The last bit of color had slipped from his cheeks.
“Someone was . . . There was . . .”
Ariana heaved, collapsing in the snow next to him. She buried her face in Thomas’s jacket, inhaling his scent. What she wanted more than anything was his protection. But she knew, deep down, that couldn’t keep her safe anymore. He was too weak. And just as afraid as she was.
He slipped his fingers into her hair. “You’re okay,” he murmured quietly. “You’re okay.”
She pulled away, wiping the snow from her face with the back of her sleeve. “Someone was in there with me,” she managed. “In your room. Waiting for me.”
“What?” Thomas was shocked—frightened. “Did you see them?”
She shook her head. “It was dark, and he was behind me, and I couldn’t—” Her breath was shallow, and she was starting to get dizzy. She closed her eyes, her voice cracking. “I’m sorry.”
She decided not to tell him about the picture. Not yet. Not until she could figure out what to do.
“It’s okay,” he repeated. “We’ll hide out in Drake for a while. Warm up until we can decide what to do next.”
“Thomas, we can’t,” she protested. “Someone will see us.”
But even as the words left her mouth, she knew that Thomas was right. He was hurt, and they couldn’t stay exposed like this for much longer. Unless they wanted to make the long trek back to Billings and Mrs. Lattimer’s apartment—which would be impossible with Thomas in his present condition—it would have to be Drake. It was the only heated dorm on campus. Breaking in was a risk they would have to take.
“We’ll go in through the basement,” he decided. “But I’ve gotta take a couple of those pills first.” He pulled his hand from her face as she dug through her pocket for the prescription bottle.
“Here.” She shook several pills from the bottle into her palm.
He took the pills with his other hand and popped them in his mouth, tilting his head back and swallowing. “Let’s get out of here.”