The handsome man stepped behind a tree. Thaylina followed, but he was gone. She couldn't stop thinking of the mysterious man. Even long after she returned to the tower.
"So, you're Lana," Lance continues when I don't say a word. "My brothers are barely talking to each other because of you."
Ashton rotates in her seat to face me. "Ooh, scandal!"
"I didn't know there were three of you," I say, trying to change the subject. "Are there any more Harrison siblings I should be warned about?"
Lance laughs. "Nope. Just the three of us. And I don't need a warning. I'm nothing like my brothers."
"That's why he attends Blackwood with us," Ashton announces proudly.
I scoff. "Because you're so innocent."
"No. I just don't hide my faults."
"That's noble of you," I say, sarcastically. "Is your father also your lawyer?" I don't expect him to answer.
"No, Dwight is," he says with a grin, letting me know he's not bothered by my prying.
"Dwight? As in my court-appointed lawyer?"
"Uh, no. Dwight as in an associate at my dad's firm. But yeah, same guy."
What? He's been representing me for two years. Why are they lying to me?
"You have two lawyers?" Ashton's eyes widen like she's in awe of me. "I'm officially obsessed with you."
"You didn't know, did you?" Lance darts a glance at me through the mirror again. I shake my head.
"It doesn't make sense," I say out loud. I probably shouldn't have, but maybe Lance knows something. "I've never paid for a lawyer. Why would your dad do this?"
Lance shrugs. I don't know if it's because he doesn't know or won't answer.
It takes us half the time to get back to Blackwood with Lance driving. And thankfully, there weren't any cops on the road. Per usual, there's no one on the road.
Lance parks in a lot off to the side of the guard booth, next to about a half-dozen other cars. As soon as he turns off the car, Ashton hits the ground running.
"Move!" she yells over her shoulder. "Eight minutes 'til curfew!"
Lance takes off after her, and with a sigh, I chase them both down. Why do I always have to run to keep from getting caught?
I struggle to remove my platforms. Our feet slap the marble as we race through the foyer of the administration building. We continue through the Court, the branches and flowers reaching for us as we pass. The luminescent cobblestones are disorienting as we sprint through. I struggle to keep up, knowing if I fall behind I'll be lost.
"See you in a few," Ashton yells to Lance as he veers right toward the guys' dorm and we continue left.
I can smell the roses before I see them.
My phone beeps.
"Shit," I mutter.
"They're checking in?"
"Yes."
"Faster."
We race through the doors and take the stairs two at a time. Ashton could easily take three if she wanted, but my legs are struggling to reach two. My thighs are on fire, and my lungs are gasping for each breath.
My phone beeps again.
"How many more beeps before I'm screwed?"
"One." We reach the fifth floor. "Come to my room after."
I'm hurling my body toward my room. My hand is shaking as I hold it under my door monitor. I lift it to my face to accept the video call as I'm walking across my threshold.
A man appears on the other side. His head looks like it was haphazardly chiseled from rocks. Undeniably ex-military. He doesn't look happy. Or maybe he always looks like this. "That was too close. I wouldn't advise doing it again." Then he hangs up.
I collapse on my back onto the bed with my arms splayed. Holy shit. My heart is pounding, and I'm actually sweating. Just so I wouldn't be caught out of my room after curfew. This is so stupid.
At this moment, I realize, I'm still in my bathing suit. I can't even imagine that video feed if they had surveillance.
I change into a pair of fitted sweatpants and a cropped hoodie before leaving my phone on the desk to go to Ashton's. I stick a flip-flop in the door, so I don't lock myself out and walk down the hall. Except, I don't know which room is hers.
Then again, it's not too hard to figure out. All I have to do is follow the music. I stop in front of room twenty and knock just as the door opens. Ashton jumps back in surprise, looking like she was about to leave.
"You found me!" She opens the door wider for me to enter. "I'm going downstairs to drag Sophia up here. I'll be right back."
Before I can react, she slips past me and is gone. I turn to find Lance and Brendan lounging on a light grey couch that's pushed against the wall under a loft that holds up Ashton's bed. Her room is so ... Ashton. She is scattered all over, from the framed abstract and cityscape photographs on the wall to the plush furniture that looks like you could sink in and get lost. Not to mention the graffiti mural taking up the entire wall behind the bed and couch. It's sexy but has an attitude at the same time, like a supermodel flipping off a camera.
I remove a lacy bra from a chair and flop down, still feeling the ache in my body from the sprint to the room.
"Want some?" Lance holds up a bottle of champagne.
"Sure," I sigh, willing to give it another try. Not that I can be picky.
"Here, top it with this," Brendan offers, reading my less than enthusiastic response and reaching into Ashton's fridge to pull out a bottle of fresh squeezed lemonade. He pours some in the champagne flute and hands it to me. I tentatively take a sip and nod in appreciation.
"Thanks." I look to Lance who's sipping his champagne. Everything about him screams "guy." The slouchy khakis, the half tucked t-shirt and the disheveled mop of hair on his head that flips out around his ears and nearly covers his eyes. But he's so at ease tipping the elegant glass to his lips, holding it by its stem. The contradiction is sending me on another trip to Wonderland.
"You're the fifth student?"
"Until tomorrow."
"Where have you been?"
"Spent last night at the lake house."
"What year are you?"
"Sophomore? You?"
"Soph ..." I stumble, realizing we're moving into a new school year. "Junior."
"Are you sure?"
"I forgot for a second. Spending the last few weeks of school in juvie messed me up."
"You went to juvie?" they ask in unison.
"You've never been? Neither of you?"
They shake their heads.
"My dad picked me up at the station the night I was arrested. I was barely in the holding cell."
"Never been arrested," Brendan says.
Lance and I stare at him, calling him out on his lie. Except, unlike everyone else, I can never tell when he's lying.
"Swear." Brendan rests a hand on his heart. "My principal couldn't exactly press charges for sleeping with his wife. Maybe for accessing his hidden account and helping her take all of his money, but they never proved it was me."
I blink.
Lance starts laughing. "That's the best!"
"What were you arrested for?" Brendan asks Lance.
"Dealing," Lance says. "Charges didn't stick."
"Were you?" Brendan pushes.
"It's complicated." He looks to me briefly, like I might understand. Although I can very much understand complicated, I can't imagine how it applies to him. Then I do.
Parker.
"You covered for him?"
Lance shrugs a shoulder, not admitting or denying. I roll my eyes. Just when I'm about to trust Parker and believe he cares, he reveals another conniving, self-serving side of himself that forces me to see the truth. He doesn't care about me. He just wants to be sure that nothing that happened that night will come back to get him.
"And you?" Brendan looks to me. "What horrible thing could you have done to be sent to a juvenile detention center?"
"You went to juvie?" Ashton bursts out from the other side of the room, with Sophia behind her. Sophia stares at me with her mouth open--and maybe ju
st a little fear in her eyes.
I groan. "I'm not like you guys. I don't have parents who have a criminal lawyer on retainer."
"Or a publicist to spin a story about having the flu when their daughter is found passed out in a bathroom at an L.A. club." Ashton sits on the bench against the window.
"Or a doctor who'll write script after script of whatever drug you ask for to keep the envelopes of money coming in." Sophia smooths her skirt under her and slides onto the bench next to Ashton.
We all stare at Sophia. "What? I know we never talk about why we're here, but it happened whether we say it out loud or not."
Ashton busts out laughing and swings her arm around Sophia affectionately. "I need a drink. Sofe? Wait. Are you supposed to drink on your meds?"
"If I did what I was supposed to do, I wouldn't be here."
Ashton presses a sloppy kiss to her cheek.
While Lance pours the girls a glass of champagne from another bottle that appears out of nowhere, Ashton opens the windows behind them as far as they will go.
She pulls open a drawer in her black lacquer desk and removes the books, pops the false bottom and pulls out a box. I grin. She is totally my favorite person right now. Ashton reveals a mini bong and a bag of weed.
"You get me," Lance says, holding out his fist for her to bump.
As Ashton's preparing the bong, Brendan pursues the lingering question. "You never told us what you got sent to juvie for." I glare at him because he knows. He grins his obnoxious taunting grin. I wonder if my hands will fit around his throat.
"Yeah, what were you busted for?" Lance asks, watching Ashton hungrily.
"Which time?"
All of their heads flip to stare at me ... again.
"Omigod, stop! I told you, I don't come from money!"
"How are you here?" Sophia asks, puzzled.
"Exactly," Brendan adds emphatically, like he's making a point.
"Your father," I say to Lance. "He got me in. I have no idea how, but I'm here. It's part of my plea agreement."
"For what?" Lance asks before tilting the flute to his lips.
"Armed robbery."
Lance chokes on his champagne.
"I mean, aiding and abetting in an armed robbery and obstruction after the fact."
"So you know who did it and wouldn't give them up?" Lance translates, understanding legal-speak.
"Exactly."
They all nod in appreciation. I may have just earned a little respect.
"Who did it?" Brendan asks. I know what he's doing, asking these questions in front of everyone like I might feel pressured to share the details he doesn't know. I seriously want to strangle him.
"If I refused to tell the police to clear my name, why the hell would I tell you?"
"Because it doesn't matter anymore. You're already serving your time." Then he studies me, intently. "Oh. That's why."
"Why?" Sophia and Lance ask at the same time.
"Whoever it is has something on her."
"Not exactly," I admit. "It's complicated."
"The lies are always complicated. The truth never is."
"Wow, that's so deep," Lance says, tilting his head in reflection.
"Shut up, Brendan," I snap.
"Who's up first?" Ashton asks.
"Give it to me," Sophia demands, taking us all by surprise.
Ashton tells us she had the bench they're seated on custom built so she can sit and blow the smoke out the window. Genius.
"Your room is amazing," I admire continuing to notice details that capture her personality.
"They did a good job," Ashton agrees.
"You had someone design this? It looks like you've been here for years."
"Friday," she corrects.
"Where were you last year?"
"The junior floor downstairs."
"Then why am I up here? I'm not a senior."
"You are an enigma, aren't you, Lana?" Brendan points out as if he's enthralled with the idea of me. "Nothing about you makes sense."
I bare my teeth at him.
"Be careful," he informs everyone, "she may look like a sweet and adorable pixie, but she bites."
"I think pixies really do bite," Sophia says thoughtfully, handing the bong to Ashton.
"So you're saying Lana's an angry pixie?" Ashton studies me like she can't quite see it.
All of a sudden a detail clicks into place that should have been obvious hours ago. Maybe my mind was purposely avoiding the truth. "Your brother goes to school here, doesn't he?"
Lance nods. "Printz-Lee."
"Of course," I groan.
But that's an entirely different school, somewhere else in the forest of this town. I shouldn't have to ever see him. I try to find comfort in that.
"Parker told me what happened between you and him, but what--"
"Don't," I implore with a slight growl.
"Are you attracted to trouble, Lana?" Brendan teases, taking his turn at the window.
"No, she likes the good guys," Ashton blurts unfiltered. I roll my eyes when both Brendan and Lance laugh.
"There's no such thing" Sophia sighs solemnly. "They're like unicorns. Only a few left."
This makes me laugh, because she looks so sad at the thought of it. "You're right, Sophia. They are unicorns."
"Is that why you've vowed to never fall in love?" Brendan asks. "Because you're waiting for a unicorn?"
"I'm not waiting for anything."
"She didn't vow not to fall in love," Ashton corrects, taking the bong back for another turn without progressing to Lance or me. "She said she was afraid to fall in love."
Oh, Ashton and her drug-induced betrayal.
Sophia nods, like she totally gets it. "I'm afraid of wrinkles."
"Growing old?" Lance clarifies.
"No. Wrinkles. On my clothes. I spend hours ironing and starching. I practice sitting just right and tucking in my shirts perfectly so they don't rumple. It completely stresses me out."
"Here, this'll help," Ashton says, handing the bong back.
"Hey!" Lance protests, launching up onto the bench with his hand extended. "Complete the circle."
"Oh, yeah, sorry." Ashton passes it to him. Instead, she pats Sophia on her head. "I'd totally hug you, but I don't want you to be afraid of me."
I'm not high. Not yet, but this moment is the funniest thing I've ever seen, and I can't hold back the laughter. Which ricochets across the room, igniting an uncontrollable roll of laughter from everyone.
At that inopportune moment, clarity sobers me in an instant. "Shit."
Brendan and Lance seem to be the only ones who hear me. I stand and start pacing. "Shit."
"What's wrong?" Lance asks. "Come up here, this will mellow you out."
I stare at him and his offering of the bong, but what he says doesn't reach me. I'm too lost in my own head. Trying to figure out what the hell I should do.
"Lana?" Ashton's voice is soft and soothing. "You're looking like the angry pixie."
Brendan's beside me, carefully ushering me away. "What did you just realize?"
I peer up at him, but I can't focus. I'm completely freaking out. My head is spinning, filtering through a thousand different possibilities. My hands are sweaty, and my mouth is dry.
"C'mon," he urges, gently setting a hand on my back to guide me out of the room.
"Where are they going?" I hear Sophia ask as the door closes behind us.
"Lean back against the wall and put your head down. Take slow, deep breaths through your nose." I can hear him speaking, somewhere.
I feel the solidity of the wall to my back and a hand pressing me forward.
"Focus on your breathing. In and out."
I grip my knees as I breathe in and release each breath. The chaotic swirls dissipate. My pulse calms. And then I feel like collapsing. I slide down the wall until I'm seated on the floor.
"He goes to school here," I mutter.
Brendan lowers himself next to me. It takes h
im only a minute to realize. "The guy you're covering for?"
"Yeah," I breathe out.
It wasn't panic exactly that overtook me. It was a combination of everything--anger, frustration, annoyance and okay, maybe a little panic. It felt like I was filled with every explosive emotion that could fit inside of me. Because I have no idea what to do. And I don't do helpless well.
I continue to stare at the wall for what feels like ten minutes, trying to formulate some sort of plan.
"Is this about the convenience store or Allie?" Brendan asks from beside me. I forgot he was here.
"Allie," I answer numbly.
"Is it the same guy from the convenience store?"
I turn my head to stare at Brendan. My stony expression answers for me.
"Did that girl who called in see anything?"
I shake my head. It unnerves me how much he knows about the case.
"So it's your word against his?"
I nod.
"Why would they believe him over you?"
"I'm the one with the record," I answer. "And history of fighting."
"He doesn't?"
I shrug. "He's not a nice guy. But I doubt there's a record of it."
"Right, because he goes to school here."
"Not here. Printz-Lee."
"Even worse." Brendan is quiet for a second. "What if it remains unsolved?"
"Why should he get away with it?" Anger ignites my words.
Brendan studies me a second, like he's seeing something he hadn't noticed before. "Is justice that important to you?"
"She didn't deserve what happened. And if she doesn't make it ..." My jaw flexes as the rage overtakes the other emotions. "Justice won't be enough."
"I take it you're not afraid of him?"
"Hell no. He's an asshat. But he's also unpredictable. He won't care who he has to hurt to protect himself. And I can't let that happen." I realize I've shared too much, with a guy I'm still not convinced I can trust, and stop myself from revealing more. I need to get away from him. I rise from the floor. "I'm going back to my room."
"Want some company?" Brendan winks.
I groan in exasperation. "Get over yourself." I begin to walk away, but then I spin back around. I didn't want to have to do this, but I can't think of a way to avoid it. "Can you ask Lance to come to my room?"
Brendan laughs in disbelief. "Are you serious?"
I glower back.
"Fine," he answers before pushing open the door to Ashton's room.
A few minutes later, there's a knock, and when I open it, Lance is leaning against the doorframe wearing a dopey grin. "You wanted me?"
I roll my eyes. "Get in here." He comes in and shuts the door behind him. "I need your help."
"With what?" he asks, plopping down on the beanbag.