He looks at me with shock, then digs his fingers into my ribs. It tickles so much I nearly shriek. Then we’re wrestling, tickling each other, burying our laughter in each other’s necks.
“Shh,” he says. “Shh!” But I squeeze above his knees and in his writhing he nearly knocks us both off the ledge.
From below comes the click and suction of the front door opening, and we freeze, hands over each other’s mouths, still fighting the laughter that’s making us both quake. When we’ve gotten ahold of ourselves, he looks over the side of the roof and backsteps quickly, one finger over his lips to keep me quiet.
“Moore,” he whispers.
With a smile, he motions back toward the attic window, and though I don’t want to go, he’s right. We’ve been away awhile, and we can’t chance getting caught together after curfew, especially with Grayson here.
Bending low, I retrieve the cards that have slipped out of my pocket off the ground, and he settles the blanket around my shoulders. I follow him to the attic window, and he holds the glass panel up so I can slip through.
Inside, I align the cards to put back in my pocket, but the top one is staring up at me.
I have a new assignment.
My stomach plummets. “I do, too,” I say, as he squints to read the letters in the dark. To hell with Dr. O’s orders. Caleb gave me his trust, and he’s got mine in return. “I’m working at a club where Sterling’s campaign staff hangs out.”
Caleb’s mouth opens, but before he can object, I add, “He’ll never be there when I’m there. I’m just going in to ask some questions about a missing intern. Dr. O’s trying to get as much evidence as he can to get the senator put away.” I take his hand and press it to my lips, feeling his grip slowly relax. “When Matthew Sterling’s in jail, Grayson will go home, and you can say good-bye to the secret part of girlfriend.”
He gives a reluctant sigh.
“What are you doing?” I ask.
“What? Oh.” In the dim light, I can see his brows scrunch. “Nothing big. I’m tailing a new recruit. Some girl in Sycamore Township.”
The blanket slips off my shoulder.
What do I tell them?
Tell them I’ve asked you to investigate a potential student.
Caleb’s followed recruits before—I was one of them. His job was to watch me work, see if I could pull a con and keep a secret. He had to give an opinion on whether I would be a good fit at Vale Hall.
I am only here because of Caleb’s good report.
But it can’t be coincidence that Dr. O just told me to give the same exact excuse when asked about my current assignment—one he very much wants to keep secret. Caleb pulls the blanket back over my shoulder, tucking me firmly inside and rubbing his hands over my arms.
“You all right?”
I search his face for truth, but find nothing suspicious.
But Caleb is good at lying. We all are. That’s why we’re here.
I nod.
“You’ll be careful, right?” he asks, worried.
“Of course.”
His hands slow on my biceps. His arms drop to his sides.
We walk back along the planks, fitting ourselves through the gap in the insulation. He takes another exit, one that climbs into a crawl space and drops into a bathroom at the end of the boys’ hallway.
Caleb and I promised we’d always tell each other the truth—that what was between us needed to be real if everything else was fabricated. I was honest about my assignment—I risked getting busted without a second thought. But what if Caleb lied? I want to believe that he really is checking out some girl in Sycamore Township, but what if he’s not? What other assignment would Dr. O give him?
His trust weighs heavy in my pocket.
“Are you all right?” he asks one more time before we part ways. His brows are drawn together, his eyes filled with concern.
His worry neutralizes mine.
He wouldn’t give me his trust just to break it. I’ve spent so much time doubting people, I’ve forgotten where to draw the line. This is Caleb—my Caleb, if only in secret. I know him better than anyone. I’ve trusted him with my life.
I would again, if it came to it.
“Yeah,” I say. I kiss his cheek, and his lips relax into a smile. “I’m good.”
CHAPTER 6
The next morning, I wake up late, echoing worries about Grayson and the senator lingering on the edges of my mind. By the time I roll out of bed and go downstairs, Sunday brunch is over. People are either in the pit hanging out or on one of the many couches or chairs in the study, finishing homework for this week.
All except Charlotte, Henry, and Sam, who are waiting in the kitchen in various pajama ensembles, ready to pounce.
“Hey sleepyhead,” says Charlotte with a knowing smirk. “You look tired. Late night?”
My cheeks warm. Last time I saw her she was giving me instructions on how to get on the roof.
“Where’s your boyfriend?” asks Sam, and I nearly choke. No one is supposed to know about my secret status with Caleb, especially those with a direct pipeline back to Dr. O like Ms. Maddox. If she thinks I don’t see her meticulously washing a clean plate at the sink behind Charlotte, she’s wrong.
“I haven’t even met him,” Sam goes on. “He snuck into his room when I was out and hasn’t emerged since.”
Grayson. Not Caleb. Of course that’s who they’re talking about.
Ms. Maddox makes a close inspection of the plate, and then begins scrubbing again.
“I haven’t seen him since you guys went outside,” says Henry, an uncharacteristic frown tugging at his mouth. “I don’t think he likes me. He barely looks at me when I talk to him.” He keeps raking his fingers through his strawberry-blond hair—a nervous tell.
“Who cares if he likes you,” says Charlotte. “I like you and that’s all that matters.” She pets his arm, and he immediately stops with the hair.
“He’s got a lot going on,” I say. “Has anyone seen Caleb?”
“Left early,” Henry says quietly, so even our nosy housekeeper can’t hear. “On a job for Dr. O. A new recruit, I think.”
I nod. Any lingering doubt that Caleb’s assignment is not what he said vanishes and is replaced by a smudge of guilt. I shouldn’t have questioned him. I have his trust, and he has mine.
“I guess I’ll go find our new friend,” I say.
Charlotte gives me a wry salute. “Have fun.”
Before I leave, Sam tugs on my ponytail.
“He gives you any trouble, you know where I am.” He’s smiling, but his deep brown eyes are fierce.
A steadying breath, and mine are, too.
* * *
I’M ON THE landing in front of the staircase to the third floor when I run into Moore. His room is on the opposite side of the residence, and I rarely see him over here unless he’s doing room checks after curfew.
“Where are you going?” he asks flatly.
Girls aren’t normally allowed in the boys’ wing, and vice versa, but I’m guessing they’ll make an exception for me since everyone at school is adjusting their entire life to accommodate Grayson.
“Our honored guest has yet to rise,” I say. “I was going to see if he wants breakfast.”
Moore studies me a moment, dark eyes sharp. He nods once.
“Door open,” he says.
“Yes, sir.”
His gaze pinches at the corners. “Watch yourself with him. Stay public as much as possible. And cell phone on.”
“Did I say yes, sir? I meant, yes, Dad.”
He makes a face like he just caught me eating roadkill.
“Your new job starts tomorrow.”
My shoulders drop. How delightful that I’ve broken out of Devon Park only to work the same kind of minimum-wage, back-busting job Mom’s had all my life. At least the cover shouldn’t be too hard to fake—I know the lingo.
“We’ll leave at three, after class. Dress nicely. I’ll fill you in on the rest
in the car.”
I’d look more believable if I could drive myself, rather than have a security guard deliver me in a black SUV. I could take one of the cars from the garage, cruise down the highway. Go wherever I want.
But as I proved with Caleb, I can’t even circle a parking lot without nearly running into someone.
“Okay,” I say, and he motions for me to continue on my path.
Because he doesn’t seem to be leaving, I head up the stairs and turn right, steps leading me over the beige carpet past the white doors. I stop outside Caleb’s room, just across from Henry’s. The first night I came here after Grayson told me about Susan Griffin, I found Caleb awake and waiting, and spent half the night lying beside him in bed, staring at the ceiling and thinking about what I’d done.
I wish I could crawl back into his bed now and forget it all.
Moving on, I find the room next to Henry’s and knock twice.
A groan comes from within.
I knock again.
“Go away.”
“You’re supposed to say, who is it?”
The seconds pass and I knock again.
“Good God. Come in already.” His voice is muffled, like he’s shouting through a pillow.
With one final glance over my shoulder at Caleb’s door, I turn the knob and step inside.
The room is much like Henry’s—square, with a bathroom on the right and a window over a queen-sized bed. Tangled in the gray comforter is a body, and there’s enough skin showing that a warm blush starts creeping up my throat.
“Please tell me you’re not naked,” I say, averting my eyes.
“Please tell me you are.” He does not sit up.
Striding to the base of the bed, I grab the blanket and give it a hard tug, flipping it over his body. He is wearing boxers, thank everything holy, but that’s about it.
“My therapist says I’m supposed to talk about my feelings,” he says, covering his head with a pillow. “I’m unhappy. This makes me unhappy.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t mean it.”
“You don’t say. Get up. Let’s go eat something.”
He groans again.
“You can’t stay in bed all day,” I tell him, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He mumbles something that sounds like “time.”
“Almost noon.” I don’t tell him that I haven’t been awake that long, either.
His leg moves, and it hits my hip. For a second I think he’s playing footsie with my thigh, but after a dedicated shove, it’s clear he’s trying to push me off the edge.
“Come on.” I stand, skirting around the corner of the mattress. His back is revealed below the pillow covering his head, the angles of his shoulders sharp and triangular. “You can meet my friends.”
“No friends.”
I wrestle the pillow away, and he glares at me through red, bleary eyes.
“Then let’s go be antisocial. Either way, I’m hungry.”
“I’ve been hungry for three months,” he says. “I’ll live another day.”
Then he rolls over and pulls the blanket over his head.
This is a problem. If I push too hard, I run the risk of burning our friendship. If I leave him alone, he—and Dr. O—will think I don’t care. I need to find an in, just like I did at his party last summer. Something to get, and hold, his attention.
Grayson doesn’t want Brynn. He wants Sarah, the girl who reeled him in when we first met.
“Want to play a game?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer, but I can feel him holding his breath.
“One of the girls here has something I want. A silver piggy bank she keeps on a ridiculous dog bed in the corner of her room.” I picture Petal the Platinum Pig on Geri’s throne and make a note to warn her. Any other time, I’d let someone stealing her stuff be a fun little surprise, but she, and Grayson have history. “It would be really nice if that could find a way to me—without her knowing who took it of course.”
A muffled snort comes from beneath the blanket.
“What do I get out of it?”
I stand, fighting the urge to drag him up with me. Grayson may be having a rough time right now, but he’s still Grayson. He’s driven by the game.
He likes it when I walk away.
“You get to choose the next game,” I say.
Play, I will him. Play.
He flips onto his stomach, the blanket still over his head.
I walk to the door and close it behind me. When I look up, I see Moore’s back as he heads down the stairs and wonder if he’s there to keep me safe, or to report my lack of progress to Dr. O.
* * *
GRAYSON DOESN’T COME out of his room for the rest of the day.
After our failed pep talk, I distract myself with homework. I’ve finally caught up with the assignments I need to keep pace with the other seniors, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have to work my ass off. Henry and I commandeer the dining room table and trudge through physics and pre-calc, but by the time we’re done, it’s afternoon, and Grayson has yet to leave his room.
Monday morning isn’t any better.
I’m starting to doubt this whole game thing will work. Maybe he’s changed since I saw him last. Maybe he’s too far gone to play.
I’m trying to think of what to do next when the upperclassmen line up in the gym, facing Belk and the mirrored wall for PE.
“The votes have been tallied,” announces our bulky security guard. He also teaches the fitness classes, though there’s some debate as to whether he is, in fact, fit.
Beside me, Henry is crossing all his fingers on both hands and whispering a prayer. Sam is on his other side, drumrolling his hands on his thighs.
“Come on yoga,” Caleb says, smirking my way. “I was not made for competitive sports.”
Thanks to Moore’s increased security measures in the boys’ wing, Caleb and I weren’t able to meet on the roof last night. We texted, but at a school like this, we’re fools if we think someone won’t hack into those messages. Still, through his vague texts, I managed to piece together that he found the new recruit in Sycamore Township, but doesn’t have a good read on her yet.
He’s trying again this week, which puts both of us out in the city. My new hostess job starts this afternoon.
“You do have the legs for yoga shorts,” I say.
“Eyes up here, Devon Park,” he says, motioning toward his face.
I elbow him in the side. Automatically, I look for Grayson, and feel guilty when I’m glad he isn’t here.
We had three choices—yoga, basketball, or a fill-in option—after we finished the kung fu segment last quarter. This is the first school I’ve ever been to where the students actually have a say in what they’re going to learn, and since sports aren’t exactly my jam, I happily voted for yoga. Everyone I talked to did. I even wore my stretchy black pants in preparation.
“Ballroom dancing,” says Belk.
“Yes!” Henry screeches beside me.
Sam’s drumroll stops short. “What?”
Charlotte starts to laugh.
“Failed democracy,” calls Geri.
“Ballroom dancing wasn’t an option.” I try to imagine myself in a silky, feathered dress, spinning around a dance floor, but stop when I’m pretty sure smoke starts to come out my ears.
“Nine people wrote it in on their ballots,” Belk says. “Caleb wrote it twice.”
“Did I?” Caleb gives a weak smile, then narrows his eyes at Henry.
“You must really want to dance!” Henry’s voice wobbles in excitement.
I groan, seeing now that Henry must have somehow gotten his sticky fingers on our ballots and written in his own choice. Charlotte and Sam have realized the same, but no one has yet overruled Henry’s efforts.
With a shrug, Caleb steps forward. “It’s been a deeply hidden dream of mine for some time.”
I can’t help smirking. If Caleb’
s on board, few people will argue.
“Mine, too,” says Charlotte, grinning at Henry.
Belk rolls his eyes. “Majority rules. Suck it up, kids. We’re doing this.”
“It’s going to be so great,” Henry assures the rest of us as a collective groan fills the room.
Since Belk isn’t a dancer, he turns on the television over the mirrors and cues up an instructional movie on beginning ballroom dancing. For the next ten minutes we practice our posture and the box step, which is a three count move that involves not tripping over your own feet. Then Belk orders us to pair up for the waltz.
Caleb and I always partnered together in kung fu, but with my new assignment, I hesitate before taking his hand.
“He’s not here,” Caleb whispers, as everyone else joins together.
He’s right. Grayson’s in his room. It can’t hurt for us to dance together—not when everyone else is doing it, too. We take our places. His hand finds the dip of my waist, his other grips mine, and I shiver when his thumb circles the thin skin on the underside of my wrist.
I am not a ballroom dancing expert, but Caleb looks good like this. Regal. Tall, and proud. Even with his black-rimmed glasses and messy hair, he’s like someone out of another time.
The starting pose is where it ends. As soon as the music starts, his posture collapses, his chin falls forward, and his full weight ends up on my right foot.
“Ow.” Behind me, Charlotte is giggling as she tells Sam to focus. The only one who seems to have it together is Henry, who’s dragging Geri around the floor with full grace, but absolutely zero attention to his rotating box step.
“Again,” calls Belk. “One, two, three. One, two, three. Henry!”
I snort as Henry gets berated. Caleb and I try again, with similar results.
“Sorry.” He winces.
“It’s okay,” I tell him. “I didn’t need toes anyway. Balance is way overrated.”
He stomps on my left foot.
“You really suck at this,” I say.
He pinches me lightly in the ribs, right in my ticklish spot, and I squeak and curl into him.
Then immediately back away. Even if Grayson’s not here, Belk is, and he could easily report my behavior to the director.
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