“I have a right to ask these questions, Dean,” the reporter said.
“You’re here to do a profile of the school and students, not an exposé on Thomas Pearson’s murder, a topic which your paper has already covered exhaustively,” the dean said, holding out a hand toward the door. “This young lady has already been through enough.”
The reporter glanced at me. I tried to look pathetic so she’d leave me alone. At the moment it wasn’t that much of a stretch.
“Fine,” the reporter groused, rolling her eyes. She got up, gathering her oversize bag and recorder. “I’ve got enough for my piece.”
“Good. Please feel free to call me if you have any further questions,” the dean suggested, ushering her out. He walked her through his outer office, where Ms. Lewis-Hanneman sat at her computer, typing away. I wondered if she was really working or if she was just trying to look busy for the reporters.
“I’m so sorry about that, Reed,” Cheyenne whispered to me as we brought up the rear. “She promised the dean she wouldn’t ask anything too personal.”
“It’s all right,” I told her. “She’s just doing her job.”
But if I’d known where her car was, I’d have let all the air out of her tires right then.
Just before the dean and the reporter got to the door, it burst open and Dash barreled in, breathless. For a moment everyone froze. It was obvious to the world that he had a huge announcement to make. He took one look at the reporter and cleared his throat.
“Hey. How’s everyone doing?” he asked awkwardly.
“Fine, Mr. McCafferty. Thank you for stopping by to ask,” the dean replied. His hand was on the small of the reporter’s back as if he was more than ready to shove her out the door if he needed to.
“McCafferty. Dash McCafferty, right?” the reporter said, her eyes lighting up. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Dash replied. “I just . . . came over to tell Trey that
we’re starting our study group an hour early. Are you guys done here?”
“Yes. We are,” the dean said, even as the reporter opened her mouth to protest. “Mr. Jackson, would you kindly help me escort Ms. Vasquez and her colleague to the gates?”
“Absolutely, Dean Marcus,” Scat said, emerging from a chair in the corner.
The reporter protested, but Scat had her out of there in five seconds, closing the door behind them.
“What is it?” I asked Dash.
“They found Blake,” Dash said.
Ms. Lewis-Hanneman stopped typing but otherwise didn’t move. Somehow I got the feeling she was not all that surprised by this revelation.
“No way,” Cheyenne said.
“Where was he?” I asked.
“At the family’s house in Bermuda,” Dash said. “His parents sent a neighbor by to check, and he’d been there for a few days.”
“It took them that long to think of their house in Bermuda?” Trey asked.
“It’s not their only vacation home,” Dash said. “They had to check all of them.”
“So what’s the deal?” Cheyenne asked. “Did he turn himself in?”
“Well, yeah. He’s already been brought back for questioning, but he’s maintaining his innocence,” Dash said, sounding very
official. “But who knows? Hopefully we’ll finally get to the bottom of this.”
Cheyenne took a deep breath and blew it out, shaking her head. “Well, we should get to dinner, I suppose,” she said, checking her gold watch. She probably wanted to get there ASAP so that she could share this dish with everyone before they had a chance to hear it from someone else. “Coming, Reed?”
I glanced over at Ms. Lewis-Hanneman. Her fingers sat motionless on her keyboard.
“I’ll be there in a minute,” I told her. “I have something to ask the dean when he gets back.”
“Okay. Thanks again for doing this,” she said, reaching out to quickly squeeze my arm.
She and Trey walked out, and I had to smile. Cheyenne was so unlike Noelle. Noelle would have been suspicious and wanted to know what business I had with the dean. Either that or she would have smiled knowingly as if she already
knew
what business I had with the dean. Cheyenne had no interest. It was kind of refreshing.
Dash shot me a questioning look and I waved at him to go, which he did. Also refreshing.
“Are you okay?” I asked Ms. Lewis-Hanneman as soon as I was sure we were alone.
“I already knew,” she said. “Blake’s lawyer called me this morning.”
“What did he say?” I asked, approaching her desk.
“He said that Blake left the country because of me. Like he wouldn’t be in this mess if I wasn’t such a coldhearted bitch.”
“He said that?”
“No. But he was very good at implying it,” she said with a small smirk. “Like I didn’t feel guilty enough already.”
“So . . . what? Blake was trying to get away from you or something?”
“Or something. I never told you this, but after Josh was arrested, I stopped taking Blake’s calls. I didn’t know what to do. Seeing him when we knew what we knew . . . it just seemed too complicated. I needed a break.”
“I don’t get it,” I said. “What does that have to do with Blake going to Bermuda?”
“His lawyer says he just had to get away. He was heartbroken. He left the country because I was avoiding him, not because he was on the run.” She picked up a bunch of papers and knocked them repeatedly against the desk to straighten them. Then knocked them a few extra times. “So it’s all my fault he looks so guilty. Isn’t that fab?”
“So you think he’s innocent now,” I stated.
She leveled me with a glare. “I know he’s innocent. I can’t believe I ever thought he wasn’t.”
I took a deep breath. It was a convenient story, but I wasn’t convinced. I’d seen the ire that the very mention of Thomas raised in Blake. I could so easily imagine him losing control and doing something awful to Thomas. But I couldn’t say that. Not to her.
“What’s he telling the police?” I asked.
“He’s keeping our secret,” she said with a wry look. Like she couldn’t believe he was still doing that for her—that he still cared. “The official party line is that he was broken up over Thomas’s death and needed to get away.”
Nice. He was using his brother’s murder to make himself look more sympathetic. This guy was rich.
“His lawyer says I’m probably going to have to give a deposition, which basically means my life as I know it is over,” she said. She shook her head and stared past me at the window. “I just keep thinking, if only we hadn’t picked
that
night to get together. Blake would have been at Columbia, I would have been at home. . . . None of this would be happening.”
She lost it a little then and snatched a tissue from the box on her desk. My heart went out to her, but I had no idea what to say. I knew how she felt. How many “if onlys” had I pondered since the beginning of the year? Hundreds? Thousands?
“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have to listen to this,” she said, toying with the tissue. “It’s just, you’re the only person who knows the whole story, and if I don’t talk to someone . . .”
“It’s okay,” I said. “I don’t know if it’ll make you feel any better, but you did the right thing. You couldn’t let Josh sit in jail for something he didn’t do.”
She nodded. “I know.”
“And I’m sure the lawyers will do everything they can to keep your name from getting out. I watch the news. They do this stuff all the time, right?”
She nodded again.
“The bottom line is, if Blake did do it, he needs to face up to it,” I said.
“He didn’t do it,” she said firmly.
My jaw clenched. I realized then that I wanted Blake to be guilty. I wanted to be able to blame someone. I wanted this all to be over so that we could actually move on. So that someone could finally be punished for taking Thomas’s life. For causing all this misery. But looking back at me were the eyes of a girl who wanted to believe more than anything that the guy she loved was a good guy. And I knew how that felt too.
“Well, then he needs this opportunity to clear his name,” I said calmly. “Either way, it’s better for everyone that he’s back. It’s the only way we’re going to find out what happened.”
She took a deep breath. “You’re right. Thanks.”
It felt like the moment for me to go, but I didn’t want to move until she told me to.
“You know, Reed, you’re kind of an old soul,” she said finally.
A smile jumped to my lips. “Fifteen going on forty. My dad’s been saying that since I was little. First I was eight going on forty, then ten. . . .”
“Well, it’s refreshing around here,” she said. “None of the kids who go here ever have to grow up, but you’re already there. Thanks for listening.”
“No problem,” I told her.
I took that as my cue and walked out, closing the door softly
behind me. I wished her the best. I truly did. She seemed like a cool, if slightly misguided, person. But I wondered if she’d thank me so sincerely, if she’d think I was so very mature, if she knew that in the back of my mind I was hoping against hope I’d see her boyfriend fry.
The crowd on the circle was unusually boisterous that night. The air was crisp and clear and once again hundreds of stars winked overhead. It was as if a huge leaden blanket had been lifted off the campus. Blake was in custody. And we were all willing to believe that this horrible chapter had officially been closed. The worst was behind us.
“Who wants to get started early?” Kiran trilled, pulling a champagne bottle out from under her coat. As always she couldn’t have cared less if any adults happened to be watching. Of course, the only people watching us were students in the three underclassmen dorms on the circle. Dozens of faces were pressed to the windows behind us, on the inside, looking out.
A few people cheered and Kiran popped the bottle open, letting the foam spill out onto the cobblestones at her feet. Already half-sloshed, she chugged from the bottle before passing it on to Trey and the boys. Ariana shook her head but smiled, and even Noelle
laughed, cuddling back into Dash’s arms. Walt Whittaker took out a handkerchief and wiped the bottle before drinking from it; then Gage made a big show of running his tongue all around the mouth before sucking down half the contents.
“Gage, man! You are so disgusting,” Josh grimaced as everyone laughed and “eewww”ed.
“You are wrong, my friend! All the girls wanna suck my spit!” Gage said with a cackle, offering the bottle up.
“Ugh. That is just
so
unsanitary.” Cheyenne grimaced, waving him away.
“I’ll take it,” Kiran said. She grabbed the bottle and took a swig and everyone “eew”ed again.
“God, Kiran. There will be plenty of germ-free bottles when we get there,” Cheyenne said.
“Now where’s the fun in that?” Kiran asked, drinking some more.
With each laugh, I felt lighter and lighter.
“It’s good to be back,” Josh said in my ear, pulling me to him.
My heart went all warm and gooey. “It’s good to have you back.”
A pair of headlights lit up the trees and Cheyenne squealed. “The cars are here!”
Two huge stretch SUVs rolled up the hill and somehow made the tight turn onto the circle. I had never seen anything like them before in my life. They were longer than buses, with huge tinted windows, and tires the size of a front door.
“Now that’s how I roll!” Gage shouted, flinging open the door of
the first limo before the driver could even get out. He got inside, kicked back, and started playing with the stereo, while the rest of us all tried to figure out who was going in which car.
“Let’s hang back,” Josh said, holding my hand.
“Why?” I asked as Ariana, Kiran, and Noelle ducked into Gage’s limo. He stared after them and I realized. “You don’t want to be in her limo.”
Josh sighed. “I just . . . The less time I spend around that girl, the better.”
Okay, this was no good. First Thomas hated the Billings Girls and now Josh? I had to fix this somehow or I was going to be spending the rest of the year running interference.
“Josh—”
He turned around and headed for the other car, but the driver closed the door right in front of him.
“Sorry, sir. All full,” he said, holding up his hand. “There’s room in the first car.”
Josh’s shoulders slumped.
“Come on,” I said quietly. “It’s just a short car ride. You can handle it.”
“Hollis! Let’s go, man!” Dash shouted, sticking his head out of the limo.
Josh turned to me, took a deep breath, and managed a smile. He lifted my hand and kissed it.
“You’re right. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I’m here.”
“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
We settled into the limo on the opposite end from Noelle and Dash. Somehow Cheyenne, Trey, and Rose had ended up with us as well. I would have thought Cheyenne would want to stay as far away from Noelle as possible tonight, just to avoid any unpleasantness, but maybe I’d underestimated her. Maybe she wanted to show how very much she wasn’t affected.
Josh hooked his arm around me and cuddled me into his side, and I resolved to stop thinking about the politics of Billings. Noelle and Dash were holding hands and whispering to each other. Kiran and Ariana were laughing over some shared story. Cheyenne and Trey were smooching, and Whittaker and Rose were chatting about their upcoming trips for the holidays. And we were all being whisked off campus to a private party while the rest of campus studied or slept or hung out in their common rooms watching DVDs and playing video games. Everything was getting back to the way it had been before. Everything was going to be okay.
During the course of the ride, everyone kept shifting and moving around. Whispering, gossiping, checking out one another’s jewelry and hair. Somehow Noelle and Dash ended up next to me and Josh. I sat in the center of the foursome with Noelle, while Josh pressed his knee into the door and stared out the window away from us. I could feel his tension and hoped we would be arriving soon just so that he could breathe again.
“I still can’t believe we’re doing this,” Noelle muttered. She whipped out a platinum compact and checked her hair in the mirror. Turned her face from side to side. “It’s going to be so lame.”
I glanced across the limo at Cheyenne, who was laughing as Rose sang along to the song on the radio.