Scammed

by Kristen Simmons

  “We sure are.” Grayson’s suddenly over my shoulder, leering in on our conversation.

  My mom shrieks.

  “Celebrity romance!”

  “Look what you did,” I tell Grayson, but he’s beaming, like he did in that picture with his father that hangs on the wall in the campaign office. There’s something magnetic about him when he looks this way. His happiness swallows you up, just like his despair, or his anger.

  “You must be Mom,” he says, taking her into his arms. “You two could be sisters.”

  Mom blushes.

  I want to gag.

  I haven’t forgotten why we’re standing in this office, or the safe Grayson’s revealed in the fireplace. I’m not sure how he even knew it was there. But I can’t say anything now, because Mom’s already reached her gossip quota for the day.

  “Tell me everything,” she says. “How’d you meet? What do you guys like to do? All the details.”

  “I’m not sure you want all the details,” says Grayson, in a way that makes my mom snicker rather than roll her eyes. “I met your daughter at a party. She was dancing with this other guy, but when our eyes met…” He clutches his heart, leading her toward the door. I gape at them, then hurry to follow, and close the door behind.

  “That’s so sweet,” Mom croons.

  “I took her to this music festival downtown for her birthday,” Grayson continues. “I was so nervous she didn’t like me as much as I liked her.”

  “She’s hard to read sometimes,” Mom agrees.

  I scoff.

  “Turns out she found a way to get us backstage passes, and while we were waiting for the band to finish, she kissed me.”

  Mom squeals.

  “It wasn’t exactly like that.” I distinctly remember River Fest involving a game of pickpocketing, a bag filled with stolen pills, and security chasing us from backstage after Grayson punched one of the guards in the face.

  “All the emotional stuff embarrasses her,” says Grayson.

  “She gets that from my ex,” says Mom. “He was never good at showing love.”

  “Pretty great at showing anger, though.”

  Mom glares back at me.

  Grayson’s still got one arm over her shoulders, and he’s talking to her with a smoothness I’ve never seen him possess. It’s like watching a con at work—he’s figured out what makes Mom tick, and is feeding her, line by line.

  He probably learned this from his dad.

  “You should head up,” I tell him as we reach the stairs. He doesn’t need Dr. O figuring out he’s broken his room arrest.

  “It was wonderful meeting you,” he says to my mom, but before he finishes, a man in a black wool sweater comes storming past, dragging Henry by the back of his collar. They nearly run me over on the way out the door.

  “Henry?”

  Charlotte’s running after them, but no one else seems to have noticed they’re gone.

  “Get out of here,” I snap at Grayson, then chase after Charlotte. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know! They were talking, and then Henry walked away, and his stepdad just grabbed him.”

  Outside, Henry’s stepdad is dragging him toward a white Camry. In Henry’s struggle to get away, he finally loosens the older man’s grip and shoves him into the trunk.

  “What’s gotten into you?” his stepdad shouts.

  “You need to go, Luke.” Henry’s voice wobbles. “Leave.”

  Luke looks up at me and Charlotte, and then behind us, to where my mom and Grayson are now standing. I’m ripped in three different directions—staying still, running to Henry’s aid, or physically shoving Grayson up the stairs.

  “Get in the car.” Luke juts a thumb in the direction of the back-seat, but Henry doesn’t move.

  “No.”

  “Get in the damn car.”

  My feet are taking me closer before I even command them to walk. I don’t know what’s going on, but Henry was there for me once when I needed it and now it’s my turn to repay the favor.

  “He said no.” I’m two feet behind Henry, close enough to see his shoulders shake as he inhales.

  “This isn’t your business, sweetheart. Go back inside.”

  “Call my daughter sweetheart again and they’ll find your balls on the side of the road,” says my mom.

  I smirk. Waitressing at a dive has taught her a thing or two about jerk management.

  Henry’s stepdad opens the nearest door, which happens to be the back passenger side.

  “You think this is what your mother wants?” he hisses at Henry. “You’re lucky she isn’t here to see you like this. It would break her heart.”

  Henry takes a step back, and another, as if pushing against some magnetic force.

  “She’s lived through worse, believe me.”

  His stepdad lunges toward him, jaw flexed, but before I can grab Henry’s arm to pull him back, Grayson is between them. With the pounding of my own heart in my eardrums, I didn’t even hear him approach.

  “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Beneath the threat in Grayson’s voice is relief. He wants this fight.

  I’ve seen him when he gets riled up. This can’t happen here, or now.

  “Go,” I tell him. But he doesn’t even flinch.

  “This is him?” mutters Henry’s stepdad. “This the one who turned you?”

  “No!” Henry’s face is scarlet.

  My hands are fists. I’m going to pummel this guy myself if he doesn’t get out of here soon.

  “Turned you into what?” asks Grayson with a laugh. “This is going to be good. Let’s hear it. Come on.”

  I’m scared then—not just for Grayson getting in a fight, but for how he might hurt Henry through this dare.

  “Stop,” says Charlotte. “Let’s go back inside.”

  “No, he’s right. Say it, Luke.” Henry’s words draw my stare. His jaw is set, his shoulders back. He’s feeding off Grayson’s darkness, and I’m not sure if that’s good or dangerous. “What am I? What did I turn into?”

  Luke’s gaze flicks between us, but none of us back down.

  “This isn’t any of your concerns.”

  “Henry’s our concern,” I say.

  Luke’s gaze compresses. He turns to my mom. “A little help?”

  “Looks like they’ve got plenty.”

  “Your mom’s a badass,” says Charlotte.

  “Did you expect any less?” I reply, but I’m glad she’s found her backbone again. When Pete was around, he had a way of making her soft.

  Luke leans around Grayson, hands open, pleading with his stepson.

  “You need help, Henry. There are people that deal with this. Scott Barrow’s daughter had the same thing. She went through this program that changed her life.”

  “I bet it did,” says Henry flatly.

  Sickness rolls through me as his meaning takes hold. I’ve heard of this kind of therapy, meant to straighten gay kids. As if there’s something wrong with them.

  “I’m going to give you to the count of ten before I hit you.” Grayson raises his fist. “One … two … three…”

  “Seriously, we need to go inside,” says Charlotte, glancing at the front door. “If Dr. O sees this, we’re dead.”

  She’s right.

  “Come on,” I warn, grabbing Grayson’s shoulder.

  “You have my permission,” says Henry.

  “The countdown’s only fair,” Grayson explains. “Five … six … seven…”

  “I feel sorry for you,” says Luke, slamming the Camry door. He stalks around the front of the car. “I feel sorry for all of you. My boy’s sick. He needs help. He doesn’t deal with this now, it’s going to become permanent.”

  “Whatever will we do then?” says Charlotte, backing toward the house.

  “Nine,” announces Grayson.

  “I don’t need your help,” Henry tells Luke. “And neither does Mom.”

  Luke’s in the car before the count gets to ten. But Gra
yson slams his fist into the roof of the car anyway.

  We’re sprayed with dust and bits of gravel as the Camry goes careening down the driveway.

  “Damn,” says Grayson. “Guess you told him you don’t like hockey.”

  Henry turns and stalks inside, alone.

  CHAPTER 17

  Grayson finally goes upstairs, promising to stay hidden in his room for the rest of Family Day. My mom talks with Charlotte’s parents for thirty seconds before giving me the sign it’s time to move on, and we spend the rest of the hour wandering around the grounds. She talks about people from the neighborhood, but I can only half listen, my mind still on Henry, and if he’s okay, and Grayson, and what the hell he was doing with that safe in the director’s office.

  Then we gather in the gym, where Belk announces that a few of the students have prepared a surprise, a demonstration of what they’ve been learning.

  Irritation wells inside me as Caleb steps into the center of the circle with Geri at his side. She’s grinning up at him, all swinging hips and perfect hair and fresh makeup. Her black dress matches his black jeans and raven hair, and when he gives her a nervous grin, I feel my ribs turn brittle around my throbbing heart.

  “Aren’t they a cute couple,” says Mom.

  “Not really,” I mutter.

  The waltz music is piped in through the speakers, a sliding, three-beat cadence that now reminds me of Grayson’s hand on my waist and his square shoulders. I shove him from my mind as Geri takes her place in front of Caleb and smiles, like she did earlier when he left Paz and Joel to talk to her.

  Probably about this.

  The parents love it, of course. They’re already oohing and ahhing. Caleb’s mom is wiping away a tear. Geri’s dad is pointing her out to other nearby parents, as if they don’t already know she’s his. They make sure they show how impressed they are—no one’s stupid enough to blow off a guy who could bench press double their body weight.

  Again, I get the strange feeling I know him from somewhere, but I can’t place it.

  Mom clasps her hands over her heart as they begin their slow curve around the floor. Caleb’s still terrible, but it’s obvious they’ve been practicing. He hardly looks at his feet, and though his gait is stiff, he doesn’t run her over.

  “Can you do that?” Mom whispers reverently.

  The sudden memory of Grayson sweeping me across the floor fills my mind, and it’s stupid, but I wish she could see us. We’re a thousand times better than these two.

  As Geri tilts her head back like the women in the training videos, I suppress a groan, and try to hold on to the feel of Caleb’s hand in mine. But I can’t stop staring at his ink-stained fingers on the back of her black dress.

  “Mrs. Hilder.”

  I jump as Dr. O comes up beside us. As he takes my mom’s hand, my focus shifts away from Caleb and Geri to the director. I’m excruciatingly aware of how her silver shoes and red lipstick stand out against his deep, quiet tones, and the way she sizes him up like he’s a customer who’ll leave a huge tip if she plays her cards right.

  I’m dead if Dr. O saw Grayson talking to her.

  “I’m so glad you could make it.” Dr. O takes Mom’s hand in both of his, smiling warmly as Geri and Caleb finish their dance. “Your daughter has proven to be a wonderful addition to our school.”

  Nerves flutter beneath my sternum. My nails press into the heels of my hands. This can’t be about Grayson—Dr. O would have talked to me about it, not her. He’s just doing the good director thing and making the rounds.

  Still, I’m nervous for what she might say. Is he going to bring up the job with Wednesday Pharmaceuticals? She won’t—she has no reason to see the connection.

  Which leaves it to me. But if I say something, then it ruins it for her. This leap that’s taken her all my life to make will be nothing more than a favor, and she’ll turn it down because Hilder women don’t take handouts. We earn our keep.

  Even if it means stealing.

  “She’s always been smart, I’ll give her that,” says Mom. “This is a gorgeous place, sir.”

  “Please, call me David.”

  “David,” she smiles, and it’s at full Allie Hilder wattage. “It’s really good of you to do this for her. No one believes my girl made it out—they all think I’m lying and she’s in juvy or something.” She laughs so hard she slaps his shoulder.

  I want to die.

  “They should know she was bound for greatness being raised by someone like you.” Dr. O’s all charm, and it reminds me of the way Grayson turned it on with her earlier.

  Mom waves a hand. “Oh, you.”

  “Anyway, it’s me who should be thanking you,” says Dr. O. “I’m not sure what we’d do without Brynn here. She’s the very definition of hard work.”

  “That’s my girl.” Mom grins at me, but when Dr. O does the same, my gaze falls to the floor.

  Maybe this is all coincidence, and he had nothing to do with her new job or place, but right now it feels like the worst kind of reward—the one that comes with an IOU.

  He may have handed my mom a winning lottery ticket, but the payout isn’t tax free. The responsibility of it falls on my shoulders, and if I fail to complete my assignments, I don’t just lose my future, but hers as well.

  I owe Dr. O nearly as much as Caleb does now.

  * * *

  THE AFTERNOON ENDS with a thank-you from Dr. O, and Belk and Moore driving the parents who took the train back to the SCTA station. Caleb borrows the Jeep to take his family home and pick up Sam from the jail, and Charlotte, claiming to be sick so she doesn’t have to face him, returns to her bedroom.

  I go on a hunt for Henry.

  He’s not in the pit or in his room, and since I’m already upstairs, I knock on Grayson’s door. Even though he should have stayed in his room today, I’m not mad at him. He risked his secrecy, but Mom swore she wouldn’t say anything, and Henry’s stepdad didn’t seem to recognize him.

  Plus, he stood up for Henry. I didn’t think he cared about anyone enough to do something like that.

  He calls me in, and I’m surprised to see Henry sitting in a chair next to his bed. They’re watching something on a laptop, and judging from the creases around their eyes, they’ve been laughing.

  “Brynn, come here.” Henry motions me over, but there’s nowhere to sit, so I end up squeezing on the side of the bed next to Grayson.

  He doesn’t move much, which means our hips touch, a fact he acknowledges with a wicked tilt of his lips.

  They’ve picked some old movie about a bomb on a bus, and a hot policeman who has to keep the driver going above fifty miles per hour. The freeway’s halfway built, though, and when they run out of road, they jump a forty foot gap.

  In a bus.

  I see now why they’re laughing.

  “You okay?” I ask Henry as the bus careens around another turn.

  He’s wearing a school shirt again, fitted to reveal his slender torso and the lean muscles of his arms. His hair is damp, like he’s recently showered, and brushed over the side.

  He looks like the old Henry again.

  “I’m good,” he says.

  “He’s going to hockey camp,” Grayson says. “Where he can learn all about knee pads and scoring triple doubles.”

  “Hat tricks,” says Henry. “Triple doubles are in basketball.”

  Grayson and I stare his way.

  Henry gives a sheepish shrug. “I actually do like hockey.”

  “That’s all right,” says Grayson. “I actually like to dance. Nobody’s perfect.”

  I glance between them. Despite Grayson turning Vale Hall into a social experiment, it seems they’ve actually managed to become friends.

  “Where’s your mom?” The second I ask, I wish I could take it back. On the chance that they are pretending, I don’t want Henry to feel awkward by me asking this question in front of Grayson.

  “Probably at church. Or at home. Or doing whatever will make Luke happ
y.” Henry slouches over his knees.

  “Sounds like a winner,” says Grayson.

  “She’s great,” says Henry. “Really. She would do anything for anyone. She once gave all our clothes to this shelter because they put out a sign saying they needed donations.” He gives a small smile. “She used to bring home dogs and cats that looked hungry because she felt bad for them. Animal control had to come clear out our house when the neighbors complained.”

  “So she’s crazy,” says Grayson.

  Henry’s cheeks darken. “She likes taking care of people.”

  I think of how Henry’s always the first to give a hug, or praise, or to point out all the positives when something goes wrong. His mom’s not the only one who puts others first.

  “Sometimes she tries to help the wrong people,” he says. “They’re not always so nice. To her.”

  He doesn’t say or to me, but I see the haze of memories in his eyes—the kind of things you wish you could forget. Experiences that wake him up at night and have him crawling into Caleb’s room until they pass.

  I reach for his hand, and he takes it and holds it against his chest. Even though we’re with Grayson, even though Dr. O plays us like chess pieces, I’m glad we have this place. Henry needs it.

  We all do.

  “Well, if I had to live with all that, I’d be drunk all the time.”

  I hit Grayson hard in the shoulder.

  “What? It’s more fun than talking about feelings.” He closes the laptop, which none of us are watching anymore. “And less fun than punching someone in the face.”

  “So half-drunk, all the time?” Henry asks, giving my hand a little squeeze.

  “Or full drunk, part of the time,” Grayson says.

  I sigh. “Would you settle for ice cream, some of the time?”

  Henry stands. “I would. Who’s going to be my enabler?”

  “I’m in,” says Grayson. He sends me a wolfish smirk. “Who’s going to be my enabler?”

  I roll my eyes. “I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.”

  But I stand up and follow them toward the door.

  We play video games through the evening. One by one, the others join us—all except Caleb, who still isn’t back from picking up Sam at the train station.