And Then There Were Four

  “Wait,” says Kenyon incredulously. “You think your mother—”

  “My mother,” Antoine says, “would rather I was dead.”

  Saralinda freezes with a chocolate square inches short of her mouth.

  Kenyon presses both hands to her cheeks.

  As for you, it’s like your mind is a white board that has been wiped clean.

  Evangeline leans forward. “Antoine, no. Seriously. I realize your mother isn’t well, but you’re jumping to conclusions. Are you getting enough sleep? Are you still on that anti-anxiety pill?”

  “Yes. My medication has absolutely nothing to do with this, Evan.”

  With the part of your mind that comes back online—while you were worrying that it was you, Antoine was worrying it was his mother?—you agree with him about the pills. Your own mother was alert and firmly connected to reality when an anti-anxiety pill was the only medication she took.

  “This is not possible,” says Evangeline. “No.”

  “It is possible. It’s a hypothesis, but a possible one.”

  “It’s a leap.”

  “Yes, but not without foundation. You know what I’m talking about, Evan.”

  Evangeline doesn’t answer.

  Antoine looks at you and Saralinda and Kenyon. “I want to apologize to you guys. I’m sorrier than I can say. If it was my mother, then it’s my fault that you were almost killed.”

  “No!” Saralinda reaches forward with chocolatey fingers though Antoine is across the table out of reach. “Even if—well, you’re not responsible for what somebody else decides—”

  Evangeline cuts in sharply. “Your mother knows me, Antoine. Why would she want to kill me?”

  “I don’t know. She’s gone crazy.” Antoine gets up from the table. “But that’s what has me more scared than anything else, Evan. She loves you—or at least, she used to. If it were only me she wanted dead, at least that would make sense. But you—and these kids she doesn’t know! That’s truly nuts.”

  “It’s not true,” Evangeline insists.

  Antoine shakes his head. “We don’t know.”

  You have never seen anything as terrible as his face. The mask has cracked entirely.

  You want to leap up from this table and run away. You do not want this kinship, fellow-feeling, compassion, whatever it is. You cannot afford it, any more than you can afford to have Saralinda look at you the way maybe she did, across the cafeteria a few minutes ago.

  You have no room inside you to care about anybody.

  Nobody should be allowed to care about you.

  It’s too dangerous.

  Still you try to remember Antoine’s mother, from that night at the hospital. All you have is a tall woman looking at her son with an expression that you would have sworn was love.

  “I’m going,” Antoine says.

  Evangeline grabs his arm. “Where?”

  “To talk to her.”

  “No! Let’s keep—”

  He shakes his head. “I have to confront her. When I look at her, then I’ll know.” He pauses. “Do a favor for me, Evan? Explain to these guys about my mother and—and tell them what her reason might be. They deserve to know. Oh, and Caleb?”

  You nod, surprised to be addressed directly.

  “It’s because of you that things weren’t worse. I couldn’t forgive myself if any of you had gotten seriously hurt. So, thanks.”

  Before you can respond, Antoine walks away, bussing his tray neatly on his way out like the well-brought-up guy he is. Only then do you realize that the lunch period has ended and the cafeteria is nearly empty.

  Class starts in a few minutes, but none of you move, and Evangeline’s eyes focus on you like laser beams.

  “Go after him, Caleb.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t mind skipping class, right? He’ll have gone to his car. You can get there if you go quickly. Stick to him like glue. He wasn’t thinking clearly. See, it’s true that she might be dangerous. To him. She’s—there’s no time to tell you everything, but he needs—just be with him, okay? He needs somebody! I’d go but he’d never take me. You can make him take you.”

  You get it. She doesn’t want her friend to be alone.

  “I’ll go,” you find yourself saying.

  “I’ll go too,” Saralinda volunteers, and begins to stand up.

  “No,” you snarl, and as Saralinda opens her mouth to protest, you add frantically, “You’re too slow! You can’t keep up.”

  Her eyes flare and her face flushes, but you don’t care if she’s hurt. Better if she is. Then she’ll stay away from you, and you’ll be able to forget she exists.

  You take off as Evangeline calls after you. “North parking lot!”

  Chapter 12. Saralinda

  I feel all the emotion hot on my face horrible! Kenyon understands at least somewhat because she yells asshole at Caleb, who I don’t think hears her because he’s fast and already out the door.

  I grab Georgia and curl my fingers around the wood at the top below the orb and I think dark thoughts about clouting Caleb over the head, which I definitely could do (having Georgia has always given me a good feeling of being able to take care of myself if need be) but of course I would not, I am civilized.

  I get up to go but Evangeline stops me although she’s looking at Kenyon.

  “I guess I need to tell you guys about Antoine’s mother. Can we meet after last period? My dorm room? We can talk there.” She looks resigned and angry and worried all at once.

  “Yes, okay,” I say, but Kenyon shakes her head.

  “No. I’ve already heard enough.” She levers herself to a standing position and props her crutches under her arms. “Listen, Evangeline. I don’t like being played—not by you and not by Antoine. And I don’t like you playing Saralinda—or Caleb. This joke has gone far enough.”

  I stare at Kenyon. What’s she talking about? Didn’t she see Antoine’s face? He wasn’t joking! My feelings for Antoine flood back, although different now unfortunately. But no matter what, Antoine is not a liar.

  “Kenyon,” I start. “The carriage house—”

  She stops me with a glare. “Saralinda, listen. If Antoine was seriously in danger from his mother, he’d go to the police or social services about it. Right? Somebody threatens you, even someone in your family, you ask for help. That’s what you do. This is not for real. It can’t be. He’s making things up.”

  “But—”

  “No!” Evangeline jumps up. “No, that’s wrong! Kenyon, listen to me. I can explain why Antoine doesn’t want to involve the police. It’s because his family situation is sensitive. That’s the thing he wants me to tell you.”

  Kenyon raises an eyebrow. “Okay, I’m listening.”

  “We have class! I have a quiz today. I’ll explain later.”

  “Anyway, why would Antoine and Evangeline make this up?” I interrupt. “It’s too crazy to make up.”

  “Thank you, Saralinda,” Evangeline says. “I think.”

  “Omicron Kappa,” Kenyon says simply.

  Evangeline explodes. “You’re the one who’s insane!”

  “Surprised I know about it, aren’t you?” Kenyon says with narrowed eyes. “But I do my research when I accept a school’s scholarship, and from what I can tell, this is the kind of prank they’d pull.”

  “Dr. Lee disbanded that fraternity,” I say.

  Kenyon shrugs. “Supposedly, but it wouldn’t be the first fraternity to go underground at a school. I’m guessing Omicron still exists, and that’s who was behind that bogus Leaders Club invitation and the whole prank. Not Antoine’s mother. Dr. Lee must think so too or he would have gone to the police. That’s why he said what he said about somebody here at school being responsible.”

  “I didn’t really think you were dumb, Martha,” say
s Evangeline. “But I’ve got to admit you’re changing my mind.”

  One of the cafeteria workers calls out, “Kids! We have to close up.”

  “Sorry, we’re going now,” I call back.

  Evangeline stalks out. Kenyon and I go more slowly, okay fine, we are slow. When we get outside the cafeteria, Evangeline is waiting.

  She looks directly at me and ignores Kenyon. “Martha has made up her mind, but Saralinda, will you hear me out?”

  I say to Kenyon, “It can’t hurt to listen.”

  “Yes, it can. You’re too innocent, Saralinda.”

  Oh, so I am not only slow, I am innocent. “I just think—”

  Kenyon cuts me off. “Let me fill you in on my research. Omicron was supposedly disbanded for pulling a very cruel prank. On a couple of gay students, if you care.” Her lips compress. “Omicron Kappa was famous for picking out certain marks at school to make fools of. I’m thinking that you and Caleb and I all fit that category.” She glowers at Evangeline. “You almost had Saralinda swallowing this. I won’t allow it,” Kenyon finishes righteously.

  She moves beside me, and she is my friend and I should feel gratified that she cares about me and also glad to be protected by her, and part of me does, I guess, but at the same time I am not a small child and I am not helpless and I have had quite enough of other people making decisions for me.

  I say, “So you think that Omicron Kappa, which includes Antoine and Evangeline, invited us to their fake Leaders Club meeting. Then the roof fell by accident.”

  “Exactly.” Kenyon points at Evangeline. “I see right through her.”

  “You don’t see anything! You won’t listen!” Evangeline turns and walks away rapidly, her boot heels clacking down the empty corridor.

  I could shout after her but I don’t. Without asking me, Evangeline is assuming Kenyon has convinced me, and meanwhile Kenyon is the one shouting after Evangeline as the doors close.

  “I listen to people who are worth listening to!”

  Then she turns back to me. “Good riddance. Should I go straight to Dr. Lee with this?” She pauses. “I kind of hate to do that. It could be a huge deal. People could get expelled. Maybe we should wait and see?”

  I sigh. “I don’t know.”

  “Are you okay, Saralinda?”

  “Yeah.”

  “See you later?”

  “Okay.”

  Then Kenyon too is gone. I stand for a few minutes more and lean on Georgia. Maybe it was a fraternity prank aimed at me and Kenyon and Caleb. Maybe Antoine and Evangeline were not involved but were being pranked also. I have to admit this makes more sense than Antoine’s mother hacking into Mrs. Allyson’s email account and exploding the carriage house.

  But here’s the thing: I don’t see why that means I shouldn’t at least listen to Evangeline.

  Chapter 13. Caleb

  In pursuit of Antoine, you walk but don’t run past open classroom doors. You try to imagine Mrs. Dubois crawling on the carriage house roof, setting explosives.

  Of course, the reality of your father’s controlling behavior with your mother would be hard for his fans to believe too.

  Why would Antoine’s mother want him dead?

  You exit the main school building onto the square green expanse of the Rockland Quad. You are careful. If someone official sees Antoine, they will give him the benefit of the doubt. You they will screw to the nearest wall.

  You head into the science building. You take a left down the stairs and emerge out the back, at the top of the hill where kids sled on cafeteria trays in winter.

  Then at last you run.

  There’s a crisp whiff of October air on the breeze and a yellowed leaf beneath your sneakers and the sun shining warmly overhead. Just a few days ago, the ground was covered with crashed branches and green leaves torn prematurely from life.

  The north parking lot is at the bottom of the hill behind a new dorm that’s being constructed from smoky blue glass. You’re past it in a moment and in the student lot, where Antoine’s famous car lives beneath a beige canvas tarpaulin.

  The tarp and car are undisturbed.

  Maybe Antoine stopped to get something from his dorm room? You walk around to the far side of the car to squat out of sight and wait.

  Antoine crouches there.

  He straightens self-consciously. “I saw you coming. Except I didn’t know it was you. I hate that building.”

  You glance back over your shoulder and see that the dorm’s glass reflects and distorts its surroundings. You would have been a long thin shadow sprinting across its surface.

  Antoine pulls the tarp off, gathering it up into neat folds, revealing an ancient Cadillac, long and sleek as a boat, bristling with tail fins and headlights, and painted a deep, gleaming, perfect orange. You have heard that Antoine calls the car Ellie Mae.

  He opens the trunk and stores the tarp in it.

  You clear your throat. “You probably wonder why I’m here.”

  “Evan sent you to talk me out of going.”

  You don’t clarify. “So you say your mother wants you dead. If that’s true, why go see her? What if she has a gun?”

  “She doesn’t. She hates guns.”

  “Guns are a good way to kill, though, if you mean it.”

  Antoine shrugs.

  You lean one hip deliberately against Ellie Mae. Antoine stiffens.

  “I’ll come with you,” you say. “Make Evangeline happy.”

  “No. My only chance of getting my mother to talk to me is if I’m alone.”

  You nod as if you’re buying it. Then you slide your hand into your pocket.

  You have a reputation for petty vandalism. Very petty. Like, one time you forced open your sticky dorm room window, breaking it in the process. You wanted air. The other time maybe wasn’t petty. There was a fire on the cement floor of your dorm’s main gathering room. The kindling for the fire was a philosophy essay you had handed in, which you had written in fifteen minutes after only skimming the reading on Plato, and on which you received a D. You don’t remember being upset about the grade; in fact, you thought it was generous. You also don’t remember setting the fire, which sputtered out by itself, leaving a single page of your essay far across the room as evidence. What you remember best is that after this, you began scattering the confetti on the floor of your dorm room. Oh, and also that your father wrote a big check to the school, and wrote a long letter of apology for you to sign, so that they’d keep you, after that.

  There have been no other incidents at Rockland Academy, though there are nearly a dozen that stretch back through your childhood.

  What matters here, though, is not what you do or do not remember, but your reputation, which at last is at least useful. So when Antoine unlocks the driver’s-side door with a key—no automated entry for Ellie Mae—you step forward, your Swiss Army knife at the ready.

  Antoine looks down at the inch-long blade and rolls his eyes. “Seriously, Caleb? That’s meant to be a threat?”

  “I’m not threatening you,” you say. “I’m threatening Ellie Mae’s beautiful orange finish.”

  His eyes narrow. “Don’t try it.” He takes a step toward you.

  Which opens up enough space. You twist past him and slide into Ellie Mae’s front seat. It’s a bench seat, upholstered in a velvety beige fabric that is shockingly comfortable. You scoot over to the passenger side, snap your knife closed, and push it back into your pocket.

  Antoine’s mouth is tight.

  “Look,” you say pleasantly. You point at the reflective glass of the new dorm, where a figure has appeared. “Someone’s coming. We can go together, or we can wait here for whoever it is. Maybe faculty.”

  Antoine drops into the driver’s seat and starts the engine. Ellie Mae sounds like a freight train.

  And you’re off, Ellie M
ae’s wheels kicking up loose gravel in the parking lot. As the engine settles into a purr, you reach automatically for your seat belt, which isn’t there.

  On the main road, Antoine drives five miles under the speed limit, his hands carefully positioned on the wheel, which he grips so tightly his knuckles are pale. The second time you go past the Route 22 McDonald’s, you speak.

  “So your mother lives at the McDonald’s? We’re circling her?”

  He doesn’t respond.

  “Why didn’t you install seat belts in this thing?”

  “What are you talking about? This is a classic. That would ruin it.”

  You’re curious. “But don’t they force you to do it? Isn’t there some law?”

  “Not for cars from before 1964. This is a 1959 Eldorado.” He draws the word out lovingly.

  “What if you’re in an accident?”

  “There are worse ways to go.”

  “Plus it would please your mother,” you say. “I believe you, by the way.” Because you do. “I believe your mother wants you dead, even though there wasn’t time for Evangeline to tell me why.”

  A muscle works at the side of Antoine’s jaw. “Oh.”

  “Why don’t you tell me why? Since I’m here.” When he doesn’t answer, you go on. “See, you have a mother. And I have a father.”

  You cannot believe you said it.

  You did not plan to.

  Antoine says nothing still, but he glances at you now, quickly.

  Ellie Mae approaches the McDonald’s again. This third time, Antoine pulls into the lot and parks at the back where there is plenty of space around the Eldorado. He turns off the car.

  “You left the hospital that night alone, without speaking to your father. Everybody noticed.”

  “Yes,” you say. “I’m sure they did.”

  “There was a crowd around him in the emergency room like he was a rock star.”

  “There often is.”

  “You don’t get along?”

  “I’m not saying he’s actually tried to kill me,” you say. “But I’ve been aware for a while that he certainly would be happier if I were dead.”