by Sarah Mello
“I can’t believe this is finally going to happen,” JC said as he cracked his knuckles. “I’ll finally get to wrestle again, and this nightmare will be over.”
“What about Piper?” Winston asked. “Do you plan to talk to her about what she did?”
JC stared at his dirty white sneakers as he placed one foot in front of the other, unwilling to answer Winston’s packed question.
I remembered the sparkle in JC’s eyes the day Piper succumbed to his desperate pleas to date him. The giddy conversation we’d shared when he realized he had fallen in love with her—like he was some starry-eyed ten-year-old. And the curved question mark of his shoulders the day he walked out of school and realized he’d likely never speak to her again. In that moment, as I watched JC trace his steps, I only hoped their love story wasn’t finished being written.
Suddenly, unmarked black SUVs rolled down the winding street. We slowly turned our heads to the right and watched them pass by. They were in unison with one another, almost resembling a string of cars leaving a funeral.
“Here we go,” I said, taking a deep breath in.
Kyle stiffened as if bracing himself for what was heading toward his dad.
“Someone from the police department must have called and told them to clear the building.” Buckets snapped pictures of the SUVs.
“I can’t imagine what’s going through their heads right now,” Winston added. “They probably think a student is about to be busted for something.”
With narrowed eyes, I turned around and watched as policemen surged from their cars. “Little does Principal Winchester know—it’s him.”
“Wow. This is sort of intense,” Casey said as she swung her arms back and forth. Suddenly, her cell phone went flying from her hand.
“You’ve got to stop doing that,” I told her as we stopped in our tracks.
Casey turned around to grab it, but not quicker than Kyle, who bent down to pick it up.
“Here,” he said, extending his hand toward her.
Casey took her cell phone from his hand. “Thanks,” she said, looking down at the pavement for what seemed like minutes.
“You look pretty,” he said, his voice low.
Casey looked down at her casual outfit. “If pretty is a two-dollar oversized T-shirt and a cheap pair of jean shorts—then sure.” Her voice was overconfident, as if she were trying to cut the uncomfortable conversation short. “I guess so.”
“That’s what makes you pretty, Casey.” Kyle’s eyes traveled from Casey’s sneakers to her messy ponytail. “I wish you understood that.”
Casey’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
Say something, I thought.
Kyle swallowed, then stepped forward in a last-ditch attempt to make sense out of his emotions. “Look, Casey, I—”
“I should . . .” Casey nodded in the direction of parking lot C.
He took a moment to gather his thoughts, collecting his scattered feelings from the ground after his attempt took a nosedive. “Yeah.” He pressed his lips together and nodded. “Me too.”
We both watched him walk toward the front of the crowd; neither of us said a word. But the breath that came from Casey’s mouth was deafening, and although she stood unyielding in her decision to remain strong—I knew she had collapsed.
We finally reached parking lot C, the lot specifically reserved for overflow parking. On this specific day, it served another purpose.
We weaved through the crowd of students, confusion and gossip floating through the air like heavy clouds. They were impossible to push through.
Just then, Cliff, Ari, Piper, and Norah approached us.
I glanced over at JC. He was silent and had taken a few steps back, visibly shaken by Piper’s presence.
“What’s going on?” Piper asked. “What’s with all the cop cars?”
I stepped forward. “What do you mean? Didn’t you call the police?”
“Not yet,” she replied. “I’m going to the station after school.”
“Wait—what?”
Suddenly, I heard my name being called in the distance. It was subtle, but as it got closer, I realized who it was.
“Sonny!” Dean ran through the crowd.
I bobbed my head around to find him, which was no simple task.
“Sonny,” he said, pushing through the last group of students. He stood in front of me, his breathing heavy.
I grabbed his arms. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s your dad,” he said. His blue eyes paced across my face.
“What about my dad?”
“He’s been arrested.”
In that moment, the parking lot started to spin. Students’ shirts were meshing together like a decoupage of colored paper, and their voices accumulated into a nondistinctive hum. I looked up toward the sky, but the sky was closing in on me. And I couldn’t stop it from spinning. I couldn’t stop myself.
“Sonny,” Dean said. “Look at me.”
My eyes danced across Dean’s comforting lips; his words were in slow motion.
“Sonny.” He grabbed my face.
I placed my hands on top of his, slowly shaking my head in hopes of making his statement untrue. “What . . . what do you mean . . . my dad?”
“Everything will be fine, okay? We’ll figure this out.”
I shook my head out of Dean’s grasp. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “I was walking into school as he was being placed into the back of a cop car. Ron Harrison was there.”
And then, just like that, my heart sunk. “Ron Harrison?”
“I guess he was here investigating your dad,” Dean said. “I don’t know . . .”
I turned around to start running toward the front of the building, but Dean grabbed me back by the arm.
“Don’t,” he said. “I’ll drive you to the station after school.”
“I have to—”
“You can’t miss a day of school,” he said. “Your dad will kill you.”
“He won’t have a chance to if he’s sitting behind bars.” I turned around to continue running, but suddenly, Guy approached the crowd.
“Crazy morning, huh?”
I broke away from the circle; his voice lured me from the group like a hypnotic tune.
“Looks like everything came crashing down,” Guy said. “They have a word for that—what is it called?” He stared into the sky as if searching through his vocabulary. “Oh yeah.” He paused. “Boom.”
My heart bursting through my chest, I stepped forward some more. “What do you want from me, Guy? What is your problem?”
The rest of the group gathered around us.
Guy leaned down and grabbed a stone off the ground, casually tossing it in the air as he spoke. “I was trying to be your friend,” he told me, then looked around the group. “Can’t we all just be friends?”
“With you?” JC shifted through the circle. “Do you know how you got into this school?”
Guy stared into his eyes. “Do tell.”
“Our principal made room for your mom by firing our favorite teacher—in exchange for your grandpa’s land.” JC pointed toward the left wing. “That’s the only reason you got in.”
“Lucky me,” he said, keeping intense eye contact with JC. “Because I really wanted to wrestle for Coach Dirk. He’s the best wrestling coach there is.” Guy glanced at me. “Well, he was.”
“The only reason you’re on the team is because Principal Winchester used someone to frame me and I got kicked off,” JC told him. “Believe me—that’s the only way you’d get my spot.”
“Who on earth would frame you?” Guy asked him.
We all looked around the circle in silence as Piper looked away; her shame was showing.
“Don’t tell me it was your girlfriend.” Guy smirked. “I didn’t think she was that easy.”
JC lunged toward him and grabbed him by his collar.
“To manipulate, to manipulate,” Guy said, grabb
ing hold of JC’s hands.
“Get out of here,” JC said. He released his grasp, giving Guy a little push.
“Sure.” Guy tugged down on his shirt and gathered himself. He took a few steps back. “But before I go—” He reached into his bag and pulled out a stack of red envelopes. “These are for you.” He handed a letter to me, Kyle, Norah, and Piper. When he came to the end of his stack, he stepped in front of JC, lowering his voice to a whisper. “You think I don’t know how I got in here, Jeremy Coleman?”
JC froze.
“I just wanted you to know,” Guy said.
Our eyes floated around in a trancelike state as we realized what his statement implied.
“My grandma always told me,” Guy continued, inches from JC’s face, “that in order to be the best you have to play smart.” He twisted the stone around with his fingers. “But my grandpa told me you just have to play dirty.” Guy smiled, taking a few steps backward. He tossed the stone across the pavement as if he were stone skipping. “I want to personally thank all of you for participating in my game. It sure was entertaining watching you run around town like the Boxcar Children, trying to crack my riddle.”
“You couldn’t meet me on the mat, Penn?” JC stepped toward him; his chest bumped up against Guy’s as he looked down on his face. “You had to have your mommy pin me down?”
Kyle pulled JC away from Guy.
“Could’ve.” Guy patted his messenger bag a couple of times. “Didn’t have to.” He took a few steps backward, smirking at JC before vanishing into the crowd of students.
The stillness in the air was palpable as we took a moment for reality to sink in.
“This was all for nothing.” I dragged my Converse across the pavement, making vertical lines with my shoe. “Mr. Russell never left us a riddle.” I shook my head. “He just left us.”
“I’m sorry, Sonny,” JC said. His anger hadn’t quite left his voice. “I thought it was Mr. Russell’s car.”
“It’s not your fault,” I mumbled.
“Well, we tried!” Winston shouted, his not-so-perfect timing slicing through the thick air. “Anyone hungry? I could go for that panini from Geraldine’s.”
I glanced at him, slowly shaking my head in disbelief. My body felt as if I were flying through a dream. Nothing held enough weight to be real, but everything weighed a thousand pounds at the same time. And I couldn’t process it all at once. I took a few steps back.
“Where are you going?” Winston asked me.
“I need to call my mom,” I replied as I sat down on a concrete median, my arms wrapped around my knees, my head down. I was confused and heartbroken by my dad’s arrest, and wondered how Ron was involved. I took out my phone to dial my mom, and then Lana, but was quickly interrupted.
“Sonny . . .” Norah proceeded to walk toward me.
I stood up.
“Here,” she said as she opened her hand. “Jacob asked me to give this to you if he ever left.”
I looked down at the small black box on her palm. “Jacob left?”
“I think so. He was only here temporarily while his dad was on assignment.” She paused. “Didn’t you know that?”
“Not exactly,” I mumbled. “And I didn’t know Mr. Harrison was here investigating my dad.”
“What did your dad do?” Norah asked.
“I don’t know,” I replied, staring down at her hand.
“Well, Jacob isn’t here,” she said. “So I’m assuming they’re leaving today.”
I let out a lazy laugh and rubbed my face. “Guess so.”
Norah glanced down at the box. “I didn’t know what Jacob meant or why he asked me to do this. He just hugged me, said thank you, and walked away. She stretched her hand toward me. “He dropped this by my house last night.”
I reached for the box, gently taking it from Norah—an unlikely delivery girl. I opened it to find a rainbow brooch and a folded piece of paper sitting center on top of a small black pillow.
I lifted the brooch and twisted it in circles with my fingers. It reflected in the sun as it spun around. Then, I reached for the paper and slowly unfolded it. My eyes skimmed the note.
“What does it say?” Norah asked.
The words swam before my eyes:
Sonny, when you wouldn’t tell me what color you are,
I realized you aren’t just one.
You’re all of them.
I’m sorry.
—Jacob
“Wow,” Norah said. “He seems super cringy.”
“Yeah.” I mindlessly ran my fingers over the brooch as my heart shattered. “He’s the cringiest.”
Norah raised her brows and turned to walk away.
“Hey!” I shouted, stopping her before she got too far.
She turned around with crossed arms, her paint-stained fingers digging into her skin.
“I’m sorry . . . about Dean.”
Her head down, Norah dragged the bottom of her stiletto against the pavement, then looked back up at me. I waited for her reply—but it never came.
I placed the brooch back onto the pillow, yearning for the scent of musty cedar wood to sweep in from behind me. I could almost feel Jacob’s eyes on my back, his hands on my waist, his lips on my lips. In such a short amount of time, his presence had found a way to haunt me. But there was something more haunting than the way he looked me up and down, the remembrance of his strong touch, or how it felt when our lips met. And that was knowing a careful girl like me got it all so terribly wrong.
As I went to close the box, it slipped from my weak hands and crashed onto the cement below. Just then, something caught my eye. I kneeled down to pick up the box and its contents—and to my surprise, I found another note. As I reached for the piece of paper sitting just underneath the black pillow, Jacob’s statement from my driveway flooded my mind like a waterfall; and as I read the secret note, I drowned in his words. “What the—”
“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Principal Winchester asked, abruptly coming in from behind.
I jumped at the sound of his powerful voice, tucking the note into my pocket and stepping backward toward the others. His hands were in his dress-pants pockets, and his designer loafer was propped against the median I’d been sitting on. We followed his gaze and realized he was staring at the left wing.
“I remember when I first walked through the double doors of this school,” he said. “Can’t believe how much has changed.”
Principal Winchester glanced up at the light post above us. “Parking lot C,” he said, emphasizing each word. “Once the left wing is complete next month, this parking lot will be reserved for the junior and senior class.” He nodded, still gazing upon the light posts. “It’s a good thing I had security cameras installed last week. That Benji Randolph, with his longboard, is always up to something.” He dropped his head, staring into the eyes of everyone in the circle. “Have to keep my eyes and ears on him.”
I closed my eyes tightly, softly exhaling as the weight of our meeting on Saturday night fell onto my shoulders like bricks.
Cliff dropped his head and placed his hands into his pockets.
I stared at JC as he glared at Piper.
“Westcott isn’t perfect,” Winchester continued, staring at the school. “No school ever is. But I’m proud of how far it has come, and how far it will go.”
I slowly tilted my head to the left to glance at Winston, then shifted my eyes to Buckets on the right and Casey across the circle.
“My school means everything to me, and I will stop at no cost to rebuild its reputation.” Principal Winchester paused. “You kids understand that, don’t you?”
We all nodded, so we wouldn’t imply or suggest that we disagreed.
“Westcott means everything to us too, sir,” Cliff said.
Principal Winchester slowly turned his head toward him. “Oh no, Cliff. Not Westcott.” He grinned. “Bella View Day.”
On that day—a day that will live in infamy—only one Crescent
school survived the scandal—my school, Westcott High. And out of the ashes, for reasons unbeknownst to us, rose only one principal—Principal Winchester of Bella View Day.
Kyle stepped forward. “Dad, your old school closed down. This isn’t Bella View.”
“Of course it isn’t, son.” Principal Winchester’s eyes narrowed in on him; his voice deepened. “Bella students would never be so stupid as to risk their futures by playing Nancy Drew—or spit on the SCC by breaking into the school’s safe.”
Kyle’s face turned red as he swallowed excessively.
“You Westcott students don’t deserve the prestigious platform a Crescent school gives you.” He focused his attention on Piper, keeping his voice low so only we could hear him. “Look at you. The first chance you got at a fast pass, you jumped on it quicker than I could get the offer out. You sold your soul, and sold your boyfriend up the river, for an itemized list.”
I looked over at JC, who was clenching his fists.
“I’d be careful saying you plan to turn me over to police,” he continued. “Or anyone for that matter. You have a top-secret Princeton profile in your possession, with no proof whatsoever of who gave it to you. As far as I'm concerned, young lady, you stole it. Which means you’d never step foot inside their doors if they found out.”
Tears emerged from Piper’s lifeless eyes, rolled down her neck, and disappeared underneath her pearl necklace.
“And you two,” he said, his eyes bouncing back and forth between Kyle and me. “Breaking into Principal Clemmons’s house? What would your father think, Sonny?” He paused. “Son, what would your mother have to say?”
He then stared at the Cobalts. “You all have a lot of nerve. I open my arms to you, giving you the chance of a lifetime, and this is how you show me gratitude? I should cut you all from the student body like the dead weight you are.”
He walked toward Norah. “A Chosen Ten. What a surprise you’d risk your seat for people who don’t even like you. I’d be careful who you try to help.”
He stepped in front of Cliff. “And if your father wasn’t the biggest donor this school has, you’d be pulled off the team faster than you could say privilege. Of course, your privilege won’t get you far anymore.”
