"Normal? I don't get it."
"Friends don't call each other idiots."
"Well, uh, they do -"
"No, not like Mark called my son an idiot," Mr. Blackthorn shook his head. "Friends don't empty each other’s' wallets on a weekly basis. I'd give Wolf his allowance, and it would be gone by Friday," he said. "Wolf never spends much - if he does, it's on a motorcycle part once every few months. So when it all went missing so quickly, I had to start wondering. I had one of my men follow them discreetly; Mark would take Wolf to video game stores, clothes, shoes, booze - even what I later confirmed to be a drug dealer's house. Mark liked pills, you see."
I downed my lemonade quietly, absorbing all the information. Mr. Blackthorn cut a bit of shrimp and continued.
"Towards the end of their 'friendship', Mark would call Wolf at strange hours, and Wolf would sneak out of the house to see him."
I blushed. "Erm, that could just be -"
"Wolf would come back bleeding," Mr. Blackthorn said calmly. Too calmly, like he'd internalized it to the point of denial. "All over his face, his hands. I asked him once what happened, and he slammed his door on me. He hid his bandages so well under his uniform. He got very good at it. It broke my heart."
My chest twisted. "So you're saying Mark -"
"- abused my son? I believe so, yes. But Wolf did what anyone does in an abusive relationship; he stayed. He justified Mark's actions. Over and over again, I heard Fitz and Burn try to talk to him about it, only to hear him give terribly brainwashed reasons for what Mark was doing. The boy was cruel, and taking that cruelty out on my son."
I remembered the hollow words Wolf said at Seamus’s house. Was that an echo of what Mark said to him years ago?
"Why didn't you - " I breathed in, remembering what my textbooks said. "Sorry. I know blaming someone doesn't help."
Instead of getting pissed like I thought he would, Mr. Blackthorn smiled gently.
"No, it's alright. Seeing you get angry on Wolf's behalf is oddly heartwarming to me. It shows you care."
"Not about him," I started. "Just about - about people in crappy situations."
He smiled brighter. "Of course. Regardless, I did everything in my power to separate them. But Wolf wouldn't have it. No matter what I did, the harder I tried to keep them apart, the more Wolf fought to stay with him. Until finally -"
His eyes got distant.
"The fight happened?" I asked. Mr. Blackthorn nodded, coming back to earth.
"Yes. I got a call from the principal that afternoon. And shortly after, Mark dropped out. It's my belief Wolf finally stood up for himself, and seeing he couldn't manipulate him anymore, Mark left."
"And I...remind him of Mark," I murmured.
"Did he say that?"
"He said that I sounded like him. And Fitz said it at the party. That's what started their fight, so it can't be all false."
He drank his wine slowly, then patted my hand.
"I'm sure you are a much better person than Mark, Beatrix. After all, you agreed to help me, didn't you?"
"For my own gain," I corrected.
"I suppose so." He pulled away and finished his shrimp. "But someone who writes such heartfelt essays about caring for their family surely can't be all selfish."
"You too?" I moaned. "Why does everyone like that stupid essay?"
He chuckled. "It was a very compelling piece of writing! Why else do you think the board chose you as recipient of the McCaroll scholarship? Did someone else said they liked it?"
I hesitated telling him about Fitz hacking his computer for Wolf.
"Just...the teachers. I guess some of them read it."
"Oh, of course. I passed it around quite proudly."
I slapped my hand to my forehead and instantly regretted it - red sauce was the perfect makeup look. I wiped it off as Mr. Blackthorn ordered dessert.
"You've done very well, Miss Cruz. It isn't much, but just knowing what they're up to alleviates my mind. They keep everything hidden from me."
"Are you - " I shook my head. "Nevermind."
"No, please, speak up."
"Are you going to...punish them?" I asked. "For the fighting? The weed? The drinking?"
"And clue them in to the fact someone is watching them for me? No, I won't risk your cover for that. Another few weeks of your reports, and then I'll decide what to do with them."
"'Do with them?'" I repeated, the words hanging ominously. Mr. Blackthorn blinked.
"Well, something has to be done. Fitz's drug use is untenable. I know a very good rehab facility, and then he will be home-schooled, where I can keep an eye on him."
Fitz, homeschooled. By himself, in a room with a tutor, not smiling and flirting and laughing among the people who adore him. Just holding that thought in my head feels unnatural, wrong.
"Burn will need an outlet for his risk-taking, adrenaline-seeking behavior," Mr. Blackthorn wiped his mouth with a napkin. "The military would suit him nicely, don't you think?"
I swallowed. The lack of regard for what his sons had to say in the matter chilled me to the bone.
"And Wolf -" Mr. Blackthorn sighed. "My poor, maimed Wolf. At least six months of psychotherapy at a very good mental hospital I donate to will be in order."
"Mr. Blackthorn, with all due respect, that isn't the right thing to do."
"Isn't it?" His face grew cold, like I saw it that one time when he was displeased with the couple at the table who'd made fun of my dress. "Please, tell me what the right thing to do is, Miss Cruz. Tell me how to deal with my own sons."
I gripped my fork upright, my knuckles white. Mr. Blackthorn continued.
"You are here to give me information, Miss Cruz. Not opinions on how said information should be dealt with."
"But -"
"Do you want to keep your scholarship to Lakecrest or not?"
I closed my mouth instantly. My insides rumbled uneasily. Mr. Blackthorn studied me with his piercing eyes, until he was satisfied about something he'd seen in me. He leaned back, polishing off his wine.
"After all, Miss Cruz. You said it yourself when we first met; you dislike my sons. There is no reason to be concerned about what happens to them. They are the ones who are making bad choices in their lives, and I am their father. It's my job to help them make better ones. To give them the opportunity to make better ones."
I was going to be sick. I could feel it. Mr. Blackthorn smiled at me.
"You may go. Unless, of course, you'd like dessert. I will see you here next week, at the same time."
I got up and left, every step feeling as though I was walking through frozen molasses. In the car ride home, I suddenly understood why the Blackthorn brothers didn't speak to their father.
And I suddenly understood I had made the wrong choice by speaking to him, that day at the bus stop.
***
If I knew then what I knew now, I would've stopped. And I know I keep saying that, but that time it would’ve been for real. I would've told Mr. Blackthorn to shove his scholarship up his silk-clad ass and stopped giving him information at all. But back then I was scared for Dad. Back then, I was worried for my family. Back then I thought I could save the world, if I just tried hard enough.
That night I stared at my rinky-dink phone and tried not to think about how badly I wanted one of the brother’s numbers. I wanted to call them, Burn, preferably, and tell them everything - that I'd snitched on them to their dad. But Wolf's words still haunted me. I was pitiful. He thought I was pathetic. He'd tried to ruin my life by taking my scholarship away. All of it piled up, until I felt my disgust for him like a toxic lump in my throat. Wolf Blackthorn sucked, hard. No matter what he'd been through with Mark, he had no right to say those things about me.
I didn't sleep very well, so running with Burn was torture. Neither of us said much more than ‘have some water’ and ‘watch out for this root’. I barely noticed that we’d gone beyond our usual
vantage point at the halfway mark, until Burn turned us around. We watched the sun rise, silently. With all the thoughts swirling in my head, it was a relief to just have silence.
I watched Burn stand on the very edge of the cliff, his shoes inching closer to the edge. And closer. So close I stood up in alarm.
“Burn, you –“
“If you look straight down,” He said slowly. “It’s almost like you’re flying.”
He wobbled a little, and I flung my arm out and pulled him back. We both toppled backwards into the dirt, a tangled mess of legs and arms. Burn’s sleepy eyes were, for once, wide with surprise.
“You can’t j-just do something like that!” I panted.
“I was fine,” He insisted.
“It’s a long way down! Putting yourself on the edge like that – that’s so stupid and selfish!”
“Selfish?” He frowned.
“What if you fell, huh? You might think you’re fine, but what if the ground gave away? What if a strong breeze blew and caught you off guard?”
“It wouldn’t have. You’re just imagining that.”
“But what if it did?” I snapped. “You would’ve fallen and died and then what, huh? What would I have told Wolf, or Fitz? Who would I run with in the mornings then? Who would give me sage advice? Who would –“
“I just like looking down from high places. It makes my body feel like it’s buzzing.”
“That’s adrenaline, dumbass! That’s adrenaline from your body getting close to dying! You can’t just – you can’t just stand on the edge like that when there are people who care about you!”
“People who care,” He said slowly, looking up at me. “Like you?”
“Yes, me. But also a lot of people!”
Burn wiped the dirt off his palms, and offered me a hand up.
“Sometimes,” He said. “It feels like only you.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. We walked back down the trail wordlessly, and I watched him get in his convertible and drive off, faster than ever.
Running plus not sleeping well exhausted me, so when I walked into school, it took me until lunchtime to notice the change in the air. People weren’t just looking my way anymore out of anger, or spite. Some of them seemed genuinely interested in me –what I was doing, what I looked like today. They studied me, not just out of disgusted curiosity anymore. I tried to ignore them. I didn’t know what was going on, but I was willing to bet it had something to do with the fact I kept hearing rumors about Wolf and Fitz’s fight. I looked up from the book I was reading and realized someone was standing in front of my cafeteria table.
"Hey," A girl smiled. I recognized her from the party - she was the one who'd hung on Fitz's shoulder while he was making pancakes. "Can I sit here?"
I swallowed my sandwich. I must've took her table on accident - god, I hated myself on two hours of sleep.
"Did I take your seat, or something?" I asked. "Sorry, I'll move."
"Oh no, it's totally fine, you didn't take anything." The girl waved it off. "I just wanted to sit with you."
I frowned. That didn't sound right.
"Are you...sure?" I looked behind her. She usually sat with her friends, and they were miles away, trading carrot sticks for chicken nuggets and laughing. "They look way more interesting than, well, this." I held up my textbook so she could read the cover; 'The Intricacies of the Human Intelligence".
The girl just laughed, her mane of brown hair shaking with the sound.
"No, they aren't, trust me. Plus you seemed cool at the party, so. I just wanted to hang out."
"Oookay." I put my book down and awkwardly ate my sandwich for a few seconds. Was I supposed to say something here? Think, Bee, how did people make friends again? I looked at her tray - salad and a burger. "Do you...like food?"
She did that ironic frown-smile and shook her head. "No, I hate delicious, super important sustenance."
I winced. "I'm really bad at this, aren't I?"
"Just a bit."
I looked over at her friends, who were watching over their shoulders. They saw me and turned away quickly, another laugh bursting out of them. The judgey part of me insisted they were making fun of me - the trying-very-hard-to-be-not-judgey part insisted they were just as bewildered as I at this recent development of people actually wanting to hang around me.
"I'm Keri, by the way," the girl offered.
"Bee," I said. She frowned.
"Your parents named you just one letter?"
"Right, no, it's short for Beatrix."
"Oh, that’s a cool name."
"Just because of the x. Most people think it's old-fashioned. Like, you know, Beatrix Potter."
"Who?"
I spotted Amanda across the cafeteria and sighed. "Just...an author lady. Wrote Peter Rabbit."
"I used to love those when I was a kid!" Keri clapped her hands. "I had all the hardcover ones, with those beautiful watercolor drawings? Aw, man, I wonder where Mom put them. I gotta ask her when I get home."
I felt a smile tug at my lips. "It's nice to go through your old things, sometimes."
"Yeah. What were you into?"
"Boybands."
"No way! Which ones?"
"Neverwinter Knights, Ten Years of Autumn -"
"I loved TYA!" She banged the table. "Don't tell me - you were a Gabriel fan."
"Ho-lee-shit. What gave it away?”
"He was the only cute one in the bunch, duh."
"Hey, Paxton wasn't that bad looking!"
"Well it was nice knowing you, but I have to go now, because gelled spikes were awful and you're awful for liking them."
I laughed. We talked like that for all of lunch, reminiscing about stupid old bands we used to like. The only time we ever broke our flow of conversation as when the Blackthorn brothers came in. Keri watched their tall figures stride across the cafeteria. Wolf stared straight ahead, looking more pissed than usual. He passed our table and his face didn’t so much as twitch in my direction. Fitz waved to Keri with a winsome smile, and she waved back. Burn’s eyes darted to mine briefly before he nodded at me and followed Fitz and Wolf.
Keri leaned in when they’d passed. “You got a red-card from Wolf, right?”
I scoffed. “Yeah.”
“Red-cards are for really awful stuff. Did you – did you like murder someone, or something?”
“If only it was that simple.” I sighed.
“So what did you do, then?”
“You saw the whole thing where Wolf dumped coffee on that freshman and I interfered, right?”
She nodded.
“Well, I defended Eric one day, too.”
Keri winced. “Oh god.”
“Exactly. I felt like an idiot when Fitz got around to telling me what the deal with those two was.”
Keri munched on salad. “So Wolf gave you a red-card to get you to stop interfering?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re definitely the first. No one’s ever tried to stop him before. I mean, he’s Wolf Blackthorn for shit’s sake. We were all shocked as hell when you stood up to him. I can’t even imagine how he must’ve felt about it.”
I watched Wolf’s back as he disappeared around the corner.
“He’s a stuck up, privileged idiot, who needs to be taken down a peg,” I muttered. “That’s all.”
“Oh yeah? And you’re gonna be the one to take him down?”
No, I said in my head. His dad would be the one to do that. By throwing him in a mental hospital. With my help.
Suddenly my food didn’t seem appetizing anymore. Mercifully, the bell rang.
"Well, back to the old grindstone," I stood up and packed my books away. "It was nice talking to you, but I understand if you never want to speak to me after this. We've shared too many terrible musical secrets to ever look at each other the same way again."
"Oh, stop." She smiled. "We only covered the American boy bands
. We still have all of the British boy bands to get through."
She waved and I waved, and for once, walking to history class didn't feel like a mindless trudge. We got our tests back that day, and I tried hard not to look at Mr. Brant’s grim face as he passed mine back.
“You need to try harder, Beatrix. I’m disappointed.”
“I will,” I muttered, trying not to look at the C that was written in red marker at the top of my paper. It was a bald-faced lie. I couldn’t try hard, not while I needed Fitz to keep tutoring me. I caught Fitz’s eyes, though they seemed flat, dull. I couldn’t read his expression. It wasn’t until the end of class that I’d figure out how he felt. By him accosting me, of course.
“You seriously don’t expect me to believe you got a C,” Fitz said. “Not after everything we’ve covered.”
“I’m sorry,” I hung my head. “I guess I just don’t get it as well as I thought. It’s not you – you’re a great teacher –“
“And you’re a smartass,” He interrupted, green eyes narrow and not a single wisp of a smile on his face. “So why the hell are you tanking?”
“I’m – Dad is –“
“Your Dad isn’t an excuse, Bee,” He said, a little sharper than usual. “You were doing just fine before I stepped into the picture.”
“It doesn’t work like that,” I argued. “Sometimes I have off days –“
“Only in history class.” Fitz interrupted. “Only ever in history class. The one you have with me.”
The way he said it was so confident. Too confident. He knew something was up.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tried to play it off cool. He rolled his eyes.
“I took the liberty of hacking the school’s grade system. You’re getting a perfect, golden string of A’s in everything except this. That’s kinda weird, huh?”
I could see the doubt festering in his face. I was teetering on the edge, like Burn teetered on the cliff, like Kristin never got to teeter because Fitz was so suspicious of her in the first place. And now he was turning that suspicion on me. I had to do something, quick. An excuse – a good, solid excuse that seemed reasonable and wasn’t related to Dad. A lesser secret to cover up my other awful secret; something that he’d be willing to believe.