by Kate Brian
If this party happened every year, if thirty kids traipsed back to school drunk and in party clothes every year at dawn, how they never got caught was a mystery. The closer we got to the classroom and dorm buildings, the more my teeth chattered and my bones shook. If we got caught, I was dead. If we got caught it would all have been all for nothing.
We cut across the soccer field and ducked along the tree line that would bring us up behind Billings and the other upperclassmen dorms. We paused en masse to catch our breath. There was no sound except the sound of our breathing. The fog muted everything.
“Everyone ready?” Dash whispered.
A few people nodded. I could hardly breathe. This was it. A few more moments and we'd be safe.
“Go!”
Everyone ducked and ran. Josh clutched my hand and a few
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people laughed as we crossed the last few yards of open space between the tree line and the west wall of Dayton House, one of the girls' dorms. Once there, we all gathered against the cold, wet brick, gasping for air and counting our blessings. The mist was not so heavy here among the campus buildings. I was about to break away from Josh and head for Billings, when I looked around at my friends and realized that all of their faces were flashing red, then blue, then red, then blue.
“What is that?” someone said.
“Hang on.”
Josh disentangled his hand from mine and crept to the corner of the building. At first he simply peeked his head around, but then his shoulders slumped and he stepped right out into the open.
“Oh, my God,” he said.
All the air whooshed out of me. “What?”
Not even the fear of being caught could have stopped us from satisfying our curiosity. We all moved carefully to the corner and gathered around Josh. What I saw made me want to sink to my knees and turn and run all at once.
Police cars. Everywhere. On the grass between the dorms. In the quad. Every student in school was outside their dorms in various stages of dress, whispering and looking around as cops in uniforms circled among them, talking in low tones or shouting orders.
“We are so dead,” someone behind me said.
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I had to agree. Clearly every police officer within a hundred- mile radius had been called to the scene. And why not? Thirty students missing? Thirty of the most precious and overprivileged sons and daughters in the country? Of course the authorities would respond in droves.
“No. It's not for us,” Josh said. “Look at them.”
So I did. And he was right. Some of the students sat on the benches, wide-eyed and open mouthed. Others cried. Three girls hugged one another over near the back entrance of Bradwell. Somewhere nearby someone was clearly sobbing.
“What the hell is going on?” Dash said. Let's go.
With that, Dash, Gage, Josh, and Whittaker, along with a few other guys, jogged ahead. The rest of us were rooted to the spot. There was only one word in my mind.
“Thomas,” I whispered.
I whirled around and looked at Noelle. Her skin was as white as the mist swirling all around her. She stared past me, unblinking.
“Do you think it's--”
Pounding footsteps interrupted my words. A hand fell on my shoulder. Instantly every pore in my body filled with dread.
“Reed,” Josh said, his voice harsh and strained. “Reed.”
I turned around slowly. I didn't want to look at him. Didn't want to see on his face what I had already heard in his voice. He stood before me, panting. Anguished tears streamed down his face.
“It's Thomas. They found his body,” he said, bracing his
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hands over his knees. “Reed, he's . . . Thomas is dead.”
I shut my eyes and squeezed my hands into fists, so tight I could feel my nails breaking through the skin of my palms. I silently begged my heart to keep on beating. I willed my lungs to keep filling with air. I looked down at my hands, at my new ring glittering in the flashing lights. I tried to concentrate on this. And only this.
I knew if I opened my mouth even the tiniest crack I would start screaming. I would just start screaming and I would never, ever be able to stop.
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(This Page Is Blank.)
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You're invited to a sneak peek of the next book in the Private series:
UNTOUCHABLE
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DECISION
Ninety percent out of it and I was still learning things. For instance: The curious stares of your peers become pretty easy to ignore when you're working on approximately forty-five minutes of sleep spread out over three days. Also, the cafeteria manager doesn't like it when he finds someone sitting on the cold brick outside the door waiting for him to unlock it. Cheerios expand when left to soak in milk for too long. If you spend enough time gazing blankly at them, you can watch it happen.
A few days had passed since Thomas's funeral and still I had hardly eaten or slept. The area under my eyes felt full and tight and heavy at all times, like I could either pass out or burst into tears at any second. The door to the cafeteria opened and I looked up from my Cheerios instinctively, an image of Thomas flashing through my mind. A queasy warmth hit me and I felt like so wretchedly stupid I wanted to scream. It wasn't Thomas. It was never going to be Thomas. Figure it out, Reed. “Are you all right?”
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Somehow I lifted my eighty-pound head and looked up at Josh. He hovered at the end of the otherwise deserted cafeteria table with a tray full of doughnuts and chocolate milk. Boy took in more sugar before nine a.m. than most five-year-olds did in a day.
“M'fine,” I mumbled. “Just wishing this bowl was a pillow.”
I pushed my tray aside and rested my elbows on the table, taking a long, deep breath to try to crowd out the nausea. Josh sat down across from me and lifted his messenger bag over his head, placing it on the floor. He wore a blue and yellow rugby shirt with a green paint stain on one of the yellow stripes. His curls were sticking out adorably in all directions.
Adorably. I wanted to flog myself. Thomas was dead. I was not supposed to be noticing that other guys were adorable.
Under the table, Josh fumbled with his bag. He slapped his hand to his mouth, then took a chug of his chocolate milk to help him swallow.
“What was that?” I asked.
“Vitamins,” Josh said. “One a day keeps the doctor away.”
“You are a parent's wet dream,” I told him.
“Tell that to my parents,” he said.
I smiled. It was nice that he could make me smile even in my current state of semi-consciousness.
Josh lowered his body toward the table a bit, in confab mode. I leaned in as well. “So, I've thought about it, and I've decided to go to the cops like Noelle said,” he whispered.
He bit into a powdered doughnut and sugar sprayed everywhere. I looked at him and wondered if I was dreaming. Did he really just tell me that he was going to rat out Thomas, and then take a big old
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bite of doughnut? I couldn't even swallow one spoonful of cereal this morning and he seemed, well, fine. In fact, for the past few days, Josh had been keeping it together better than anyone else I knew, which made little to no sense. Thomas was his roommate. His friend. And I hadn't even seen him cry once. But what did I know? Maybe he went back to his room and blubbered in private all night long. It wouldn't be the first time someone around Easton kept a se
cret.
'You really think that's necessary?" I asked.
“Noelle was right,” Josh said, chewing. “That guy she was talking about? Rick? He was Thomas's local supplier and he's a total wackjob. I would bet money he had something to do with this.”
I took a deep breath, straightened my back for a second, then slumped again. “I don't know, Josh. Do we really want Thomas's parents to know all this stuff? I know he was into some scary crap, but he was trying to change. Did he tell you he was on his way to rehab the night he left?”
Josh blurted out a laugh and took a sip of milk, smiling in mirth. I suddenly felt very hot all over.
“What?” I said.
Josh blinked at me and then his face fell. “Oh. You're serious,” he said.
“Yes, I'm serious,” I said, beyond offended.
Josh put his milk down and wiped his hands on his jeans. “Reed, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but Thomas was the last person who was ever going to rehab. He was so wasted the last night he was here you could have wrung him out and served shots.”
The cafeteria had just become a Gravitron, whirling and tilting
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and heading for the sky. There was no way to focus, so I closed my eyes.
“What?” I said, my mouth dry.
“I came back from the library and he was on the phone screaming at Rick, so gone he couldn't even stand up straight,” Josh whispered. “That's why I think Noelle might be right. Thomas was pretty livid and I bet he said some stuff he wouldn't have said if he wasn't such a mess. I didn't think much of it at the time, because those two were always at each other's throats over something, but maybe this time he really pissed Rick off somehow.”
I pressed the heel of my hand into my forehead, trying to make sense of all of this. Thomas was drunk? But that morning he had been so sincere about quitting. And he'd left me that note. He was going to some holistic treatment center. He was getting help.
Had that all been a lie?
“This doesn't make any sense,” I said aloud.
“What?” Josh asked.
Wait a minute, wait a minute. Why would he leave me that note if he wasn't actually planning on leaving? I would have been kind of suspicious if I had found the note that night and then seen him on campus the next day. So he must have been planning on going somewhere. But where?
“Maybe it was just a last hurrah,” I suggested. “Maybe he wanted to get drunk one last time before going to rehab?”
It sounded totally pathetic even as I said it. So pathetic that Josh actually had pity in his eyes.
“Reed, what makes you so sure that Thomas was going to rehab?” he asked gently.
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The double doors opened and sunlight poured in. Noelle, Ariana, Taylor, and Kiran strode through and headed straight for the breakfast line. I didn't want them to hear any of this and start speculating. We had to talk fast.
“He left me a note,” I confessed quickly. “I found it in one of my books. He said he was going to a treatment center and not to try to find him. He said he was leaving that night.”
Josh laughed derisively and shook his head. “Leave it to Pearson. I bet the last words out of his mouth were a lie.”
A thump of dread warmed my insides. “What do you mean?”
Josh looked at me as if he'd just realized who he was talking to. “Nothing. Forget it,” he said.
“Josh--”
“It's just...” He crumpled a napkin and squeezed it in his fist. “I just don't think that Thomas ever fully appreciated what he had when he had you, that's all.”
My mouth fell open slightly and I snapped it closed. Josh stared at me intently. No averted eyes, no quick change of subject. He really meant what he had just said. I was both flattered and completely thrown. He'd just implied that Thomas had lied to me nonstop . . . and complimented me in the same breath.
“Reed, you have to show that note to the police,” Josh said.
“How do you know I haven't?” I asked.
“Have you?”
“No,” I admitted miserably.
“It's evidence,” Josh said. “It might be the last thing Thomas ever wrote. They need to see it.”
My stomach felt acidic and warm. I had been dreading this
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moment for weeks, but Josh was right. When he put it that simply, it seemed obvious. Besides, I had only kept the note a secret to protect Thomas from his parents hunting him down. Now that was no longer an issue.
'You're right,“ I said, determined. ”I'll go right after morning services."
Just thinking about it made me feel monumentally better. I was nervous to let the police know I had hidden something from them, but I couldn't wait to be free of it. Thomas had lied to me. Who knew how often or about what? It was no longer my responsibility to protect him. It was about time I got this whole thing over with, once and for all.
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(Inside The Back Cover)
PAY TO GET IN. PRAY TO GET OUT.
Angels on Sunset Boulevard
Melissa de la cruz
The sizzling new series from the best-selling author of The Au Pairs,
Melissa de la Cruz
Coming in January 2007
