For Your Own Good

by Samantha Downing

  Zach forces himself not to smile until he gets out of the building. His lawyer is so pissed, he won’t speak. That’s just fine with Zach. He’s already done all the talking necessary.

  A few months ago, he never would’ve lied to the FBI. Never would’ve talked to them at all, in fact. He would’ve done exactly as his parents, and his lawyer, told him to do. Or at least he would’ve pretended to do as they said, because that’s the kind of kid he is.

  Or was. Maybe his parents don’t always know what’s best.

  64

  LISSA. THE BOBBLEHEAD reporter’s name is Lissa.

  Teddy is not surprised.

  They are sitting in the studio of a local TV station where Lissa works, and someone connects a microphone to Teddy’s shirt.

  “Just speak normally,” Lissa says. “You don’t have to shout or anything.”

  “I understand,” Teddy says.

  “And remember, this is live. If you stumble over a word, just keep talking. Don’t stop. But if you do, I’ll jump in.”

  “That’s fine.”

  Under any other circumstances, he would never be on TV, would never put himself in the spotlight like this. But these aren’t normal times. No one is speaking for Belmont.

  With a dead headmaster and a board that would rather stay in the background, only a written statement has been released:

  Due to the tragic events at Belmont Academy on Monday, the school is closed pending an investigation by the police and the FBI. Once they are finished, the school will be cleaned and disinfected. We will then begin the process of moving forward from this difficult time.

  A separate, private notice went out to all students, offering assistance if they would like to temporarily transfer to another school. While the board gave no estimation of when Belmont would reopen, they said they hoped it would be soon.

  That was it.

  Teddy has a lot more to say. About the hospital, and how the wonderful, talented staff took care of him. About the students, who are so brave and strong to endure such madness. About the school itself, and its history of resilience.

  Someone has to do it.

  Teddy looks at the monitor, checking his position. He shifts a little to the left so his profile shows a bit more. The lighting is harsh, and a straight-on angle isn’t the most flattering. The three-day scruff is gone. He’s clean-shaven and wearing a tie.

  He looks down at his hands. At least his cuticles are healed, now that he has stopped picking at them.

  Allison will probably see this. Maybe she’ll think he looks good.

  “I’m going to start with what happened to you on Monday,” Lissa says. “Are you ready?”

  “I’m ready.”

  If only the students knew how much he does for them.

  * * *

  FALLON IS AT a coffee shop when she sees the live interview with Teddy. She couldn’t stand to be in her apartment for one more second.

  She also can’t stand watching Teddy. Every word he’s saying is a lie. Every. Single. One.

  And she has the video to prove it.

  When she’d first watched the video from the camera in Teddy’s classroom, she wasn’t sure what was going on. Everything happened after school was out. At six o’clock on Friday, the camera was triggered by Joe, who mopped the floors and emptied the trash. By six thirty, he was gone and the video went dark.

  It came on again at one o’clock Saturday morning.

  Teddy walked into the room, only he didn’t enter through the door, on the left. He came from the right. At first, it was hard to tell who it was. He was wearing a winter coat, a hat, and gloves. His face wasn’t visible until he passed directly in front of the desk. He didn’t stop, though. Didn’t sit down or pause to get anything. He walked straight through the room and out the door. That was it.

  Until fourteen minutes later.

  Teddy walked back into his classroom through the door on the left. Again, he passed by his desk, didn’t stop, and then disappeared on the right side of the room. The recording ended there.

  She had to watch it twice until she realized he had climbed in through the window and then back out. On that side of the room, it was the only option.

  The goddamn window.

  That was how he did it. If he had come through the front door, he would have had to scan his security card.

  Next, she checked the video from his mailbox. It shows him leaving his house about fifteen minutes before he climbed through the window. He returns not long after leaving Belmont.

  Fallon hasn’t slept. She has only consumed a muffin and a cup of plain coffee—because it’s the cheapest kind—so maybe her mind isn’t working right. But it certainly looks like Teddy could’ve been behind the poisonings.

  Part of her thinks it’s ridiculous. He’s an arrogant asshole, but not a psycho killer.

  The other part of her wonders why she didn’t think of this earlier.

  She looks up at the TV screen mounted above her head. Teddy is still speaking. It’s about eight o’clock in the morning, the before-work crowd has arrived, and everyone is watching.

  “Our headmaster was an honorable, hardworking man who only wanted what was best for the students. His death is a huge loss for staff, the students, and for Belmont.”

  Everything he says sounds like it was written by a PR team.

  Still doesn’t make him a killer.

  “I can’t say I was scared when I passed out, because I really didn’t know what was happening. It was only after, when I was in the hospital, that I realized I may have been poisoned. As far as I know, the police still haven’t confirmed that, but it certainly looks like that’s what happened to me. To all of us.”

  Now that the caffeine has hit her system, Fallon’s brain starts to work a little better. She thinks it through using deductive reasoning, working backward from the result to see how it was accomplished.

  Just like she’d learned at Belmont.

  How do you poison people—even kill a few—and get away with it?

  Use something that kills quickly. Do it in a place where you’re expected to be anyway, so being there doesn’t look odd. Don’t kill too many people at once; that would bring too much attention.

  One at a time.

  Then all at once.

  Fallon bolts upright in her chair, the same way she used to when she had the right answer in school. When all the pieces fit just right, the answer is easy.

  Poison a bunch of people at the same time, including yourself. Hide your real target.

  The headmaster.

  65

  Party at the Grove, 1pm.

  Lucas’s text arrives one hour before the party starts.

  Zach hasn’t been to the Grove since he left Belmont. Lucas has been sending out texts for daily parties ever since Belmont shut down, but today is the first day Zach has shown up. First, because he’s sick of spending so much time alone.

  But also to celebrate, because Courtney is getting out of jail.

  The news came from her father, who called first thing this morning to let him know. Zach was still asleep—another good thing about not having school at eight in the morning—and it took a minute for him to get what Mr. Ross was saying.

  “Did they make an announcement?” he said.

  “No, they called and told me,” Mr. Ross said. “But it doesn’t matter. She’s coming home.”

  Zach sat up in bed, wondering if this was a trick. “They’re dropping the charges?”

  “Yes. The charges are dismissed without prejudice. Which technically means they could charge her again if they want to, but her lawyer says that’s just so the DA can save face.”

  “Because they screwed up,” Zach said.

  “Yes.”

  So they were admitting it without admitting it. Typical.

  Zach w
as one of the first to arrive at today’s party. Now, the place is packed with all the Belmont kids who haven’t transferred to a new school. BYOB&D is the name of the game, and the Grove is now filled with bottles, cans, Solo cups, and the smell of weed. At one time, the Grove was an orchard. Now abandoned, it belongs to the teenagers.

  Zach is both high and buzzed, a good combination on any day, and it helps. So does the girl who keeps looking at him.

  Lana. No, Lena. That’s it. Lena just transferred to Belmont this semester, when her family moved out from California. Bad luck for her.

  She catches him watching her and smiles.

  Lena’s cute in that wholesome way. Since Zach doesn’t have a particular type, wholesome works for him as well as any other. He smiles and walks over to her.

  “Hey,” he says.

  “You’re Zach Ward,” she says. “Right?”

  “Right. And you’re Lena.”

  “Do you know my last name?” She shifts her weight from one leg to the other, a finger tracing the edge of her beer bottle.

  “If I say no, will you hate me?” Zach says.

  She thinks about this. “Probably.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I know your last name is Holliday.”

  Surprise.

  With a last name like that, how could he not remember it? Maybe she’s impressed, or maybe she’s pretending to be. Doesn’t matter. The result is they end up off in a corner, sitting together on a crumbling stone bench.

  She’s from Southern California, where it never snows, and until this year she never owned a winter coat.

  “Tell me about the beaches,” he says.

  She does, and for a little while Zach forgets they’re sitting outside in near-freezing temperatures. He also forgets about the past couple of weeks. The light at the end of the tunnel feels close enough to touch.

  Until she asks.

  “What’s it like to be arrested?”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “You were arrested, weren’t you?” Lena says. “At least, that’s what I heard.”

  All of a sudden, Lena isn’t so cute anymore. Not after she told Zach he’s become that guy. “Yep, that was me,” he says. “I’m the loser.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Lena touches his arm. “I didn’t mean any—”

  “Cool, cool. I should get going anyway. It’s freezing out here.” He stands up and looks around, realizing that this afternoon party has grown pretty big. Too big. Probably won’t be long before it gets broken up. “Nice talking to you.”

  Zach walks away, not regretting it at all. He shouldn’t be here anyway, because Courtney is getting out of jail today. He should go see her instead.

  * * *

  TEDDY SITS IN his living room, a glass of milk empty, a package of cookies gone. While he normally wouldn’t eat so much sugar, today is an exception.

  The news replays snippets of Teddy’s interview throughout the afternoon. He watches them all, critiquing himself—the way he looks and moves—and critiquing the interviewer. Lissa may look like a bobblehead, but she’s not half-bad at her job.

  “I want to express my thanks to the staff at the hospital. I was impressed by their professionalism and the level of care I received. We are very lucky to have this world-class facility in our community.”

  That was one of his favorite quotes. It was a stretch, yes. Even bordering on an outright lie. But the care he received wasn’t bad, even if Allison never visited him.

  He hopes she has seen his interview. Honestly, it would be almost impossible for her to miss.

  By late afternoon, the Belmont website has linked the interview. It’s right alongside their memorial page to the headmaster, and a page sending well-wishes to the surviving victims: four students, Fallon Knight, and Teddy.

  Fallon. She was a fluke, not a target.

  Who knew she drank milk? Teddy didn’t know. He hadn’t paid that much attention to her drinking habits. Nor did he know which students would end up with the milk he’d tampered with. He only knew they wouldn’t die.

  Probably.

  Unless one of them happened to have a heart condition, there wasn’t enough poison to kill them. And he was right.

  Except for the headmaster, who’d had that unfortunate heart attack last year.

  Very few people knew about it, but Teddy did. Thanks to Allison, who’d told him because he’s her husband and this is what couples do. They talk about interesting things that happen during their day. The Belmont headmaster showing up in the emergency room was one of those things.

  And, yes, Teddy also knew he drank milk. Every single day, he showed up first for lunch in the dining hall. And every day, he drank a small carton of milk while he ate lunch among the students.

  So maybe Teddy had had a tiny little suspicion that, of all the people who drank milk, the headmaster would be the one to die. Not that he wanted the headmaster to die; he just knew it was a possibility.

  All beside the point. The point, of course, was to save his students. They deserved a better leader, someone who would go the extra mile to save them. Even students like Zach.

  A breaking news report lets him know he succeeded.

  DAUGHTER RELEASED IN DEATH OF MOTHER. CHARGES DROPPED BY DA.

  It’s about time.

  Teddy gets up and goes to the kitchen. As he pours himself another glass of milk—a rarity, given his lactose issues—he wonders how long it will take before the next breaking news announcement. Because they have to blame it on somebody.

  Good thing Teddy made it easy for them.

  66

  FALLON TELLS HERSELF to go to the police. Repeatedly.

  Yet she hasn’t done it.

  Instead, she stays in her apartment, staring at the ceiling. She thinks about everything that could happen if she goes to the police.

  Because Teddy isn’t just an arrogant prick. He’s also smart. If she brings the video to the police, he’s going to turn it around on her.

  The video is fake. It’s been doctored. Just look at who gave it to you. Fallon Knight hates me because of a reference letter. Here, see these emails she sent to me? See where she called me a “piece of shit”?

  Her motivations will be questioned, along with her character.

  If the situation were reversed, she’d defend herself the same way. By attacking him.

  Or maybe she’s wrong. Maybe Teddy snuck into the school for a completely different reason. Maybe he had to get something and forgot his key card and didn’t want to go all the way home to get it.

  That would make her feel incredibly stupid.

  The police would think she was an idiot, too.

  Another option: Put it on social media. Let the court of public opinion decide. But would they recognize Teddy? Would they know who he is?

  After that TV interview, they would. And the media is always quick to convict someone—usually before they’re arrested.

  But when she thinks it through, it always ends with someone figuring out she’s the one who leaked it. Fallon would end up right back where she doesn’t want to be: in the spotlight, with her motives questioned. She’s no computer expert. If there’s a way to hide the source of the video, she has no idea how to do it.

  All of which brings her full circle, right back to her original thought.

  It takes a while for her to get out of bed. Once she does, it feels like she’s on autopilot. Shower, makeup, hair. Nice clothes—her only nice clothes, left over from her previous life. Before she was rejected everywhere, before she flunked out of school.

  One final glance in the mirror before leaving. She can’t decide if she looks like herself or like an imposter.

  It’s dark out now, after dinnertime, and the drive feels long. Canary Lane, the house at the end. That’s what everyone calls it, the big house at the end of Canary Lane.r />
  Her parents’ house.

  They don’t know she’s back. She never told them, never came to visit. They think she’s still in school at State. Never told them about that, either. Her name hasn’t been in the news—none of the victims have been named yet, except for the headmaster. Everyone at the school knows who was poisoned, but it hasn’t been in the media.

  Well, except for Teddy. But only because he went on TV to talk about it.

  Halfway up the driveway, she stops the car. She imagines herself as a child, locked in her room until her homework was done. Fallon used to sit at her desk, tears streaming down her face, vision blurred, trying so hard to get everything finished before bedtime. At first, she failed. Then she got better. Eventually, she became smarter. Figured out the shortcuts. She had to make her parents happy somehow.

  She also imagines explaining why she came back, and why she’s teaching at Belmont. Why she placed a camera in Teddy’s classroom, not to mention outside his house.

  She sees her mother. Elegant, refined, and disappointed. Always disappointed.

  And her father. Tall, commanding, almost godlike. When he shakes his head at her, it feels like a curse.

  She knows what he’s going to say:

  Are you still blaming other people for your failures?

  Fallon backs up her car and drives away.

  * * *

  COURTNEY IS WRAPPED up in a plush robe, eating sushi and red Twizzlers, her two favorite foods. Zach brought them over after leaving the Grove. The high he had earlier is long gone, in part because of the food.

  “I spent an hour in the bath,” she says. “It’s impossible to feel clean in jail.”

  “Yeah, I was there. I smelled you.” He ducks to avoid the Twizzler she throws at him.

  “I got a text from Siobhan,” she says. “She transferred to Pellier.”

  “I heard. So did Connor.”

  “Are you transferring?”