The Friend Scheme

by Cale Dietrich

  He follows after me. “Hey, Matt, wait. What’s going on?”

  I ignore him. It’s so hard, but I do it.

  “Do you want me to beg, to get you to say here?” he says. “Is that it? Please, talk to me, tell me what’s going on. You’re freaking me out.”

  It sounds so real.

  I stop and turn around.

  I look into his eyes. He’s looking at me in such a kind, hurt way, like me doing this is really bothering him. I’m freaking him out.

  “What do you want me to do?” he asks.

  “I really don’t know,” I say. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess. I’m really trying to be cool, I just…”

  “Just what?”

  “I can’t tell you.”

  I turn and walk away again, but he grabs my arm and pulls me back.

  “Seriously, let me go!” I say. “It’s better for everyone.”

  “First, tell me what’s going on,” he says. “I’m getting all these mixed signals from you right now.”

  “You’re one to talk about mixed signals.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I…”

  I need to say it. I need to tell him that I know.

  He watches me, and then his eyes widen a fraction. In that second, I think it hits him. He knows I’ve figured it out. He knows I’m onto him.

  “Let’s find somewhere quiet,” he says.

  “Okay.”

  We walk down the hall. He tries the door of a classroom, but it’s locked. The next room is a men’s bathroom.

  He pushes on the door. And success.

  We go inside. The tiles are this really hideous shade of green. All the stalls are open, so we have privacy. I feel breathless, like my lungs are working overtime but can’t take in enough air.

  He steps closer.

  If it weren’t for the scheme, I’d think he’s about to kiss me.

  “Talk to me, Matt.”

  “I know, all right?” I say. “I know about everything. So you can cut the act and stop looking at me like that. You don’t need to anymore.”

  “Know what?”

  His voice is low. Dangerous.

  “I know who you are,” I say. “I know you’re a Donovan. I know you know who I am, and I know you’ve been pretending to be my friend this whole time, just so I’ll tell you secrets about my family.”

  He’s watching me, his features still.

  “It’s true,” he finally says. “Nice work.”

  I’m stumped for a second. He shrugs.

  “I knew you’d figure it out; you’re too smart not to.”

  “What?”

  Of all the ways I pictured this confrontation going down, I never imagined this.

  “I dunno, man. I mean, I figured me being so cagey about my last name would make it obvious. But, like, for the record, I gave up on that plan, like, the moment I had dinner with you. I might’ve met you because of the scheme, but after that, our friendship has been real.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah, I liked you too much to hurt you like that. I decided pretty early on I wasn’t going to go through with it.”

  “What about your family?” I ask. “Even if you gave up on it, they’d still want you to do it, right?”

  “They think you’re just really good at dodging the questions I’ve asked you. But that’s not what I’m doing, I promise. Anything I’ve asked you is because I genuinely want to get to know you.”

  “What are you saying?” I ask.

  “I’m saying that this is more than that. It’s real.”

  “I…”

  “Come on,” he says. “Don’t you feel it? We have a connection. I’ve never felt anything like it before. I think you might be my best friend.”

  “I feel it, too. Of course I do. But … it’s like, if you are who I think you are, we shouldn’t be friends, right?”

  “Says who?”

  “Our families. They hate each other.”

  “They do,” he says.

  “And you only wanted to get to know me just so you could tell them my secrets.”

  He rubs the nape of his neck.

  “Yeah, but only for, like, five minutes. I’m telling you, I bailed on that plan as soon as I realized how much I could like you. Which happened pretty fast. I just … I feel so connected to you. It’s true what I said before. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever felt. We just click, you know?”

  That’s sweet and all, but …

  “How can I trust you?” I ask.

  “You probably shouldn’t. But I’d like it if you did.”

  “You’re … you’re a lot, you know that?”

  He grins. “That’s the nicest thing I’ve heard all week.”

  Infuriatingly, him saying that drives me pretty wild.

  “So you aren’t going to drop me?” he asks. “Seriously, you have nothing to worry about.”

  “I don’t know. I honestly didn’t know what to expect after telling you, but it wasn’t this.”

  “I’m glad. I’m not a threat to you, I promise. You are to me, though. Have you told anyone else about me?”

  “Not a soul. I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Good.”

  I take him in. This is so not how I thought this would go down. But I buy what he’s telling me. I just don’t feel like he’d be able to fake it that well.

  “So you’re really not just pretending to be my friend?” I ask.

  “I swear, I’m not. I truly do like you. Do you still like me?”

  Isn’t that a loaded question?

  “I do,” I say. “And I don’t. I can’t believe you lied to me, but there’s this other part of me that…”

  “What? What does this other part of you want?”

  “It wants to kiss you so bad.”

  He grins. “Then do it.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Show me what you got, Miller.”

  Hearing him say my name sends me into overdrive.

  “Sure thing,” I say, and then I step closer to him.

  A smart person wouldn’t do this.

  But that smart person wouldn’t get kissed.

  So how smart are they, really?

  I put my hand on the side of his face and hold it there. He closes his eyes at my touch. Then I lean forward and gently press my lips to his. He smiles, tilts his head, then kisses me. My eyes widen, and I’m so shocked I only just remember to kiss back at the last second. Because I’m so aware that my first kiss is happening RIGHT NOW.

  And the kiss itself? It’s incredible. It’s just, different from what I thought it’d be. I can feel it everywhere. His lips are so soft, backed with just enough pressure to be worth my time.

  He pulls back. “Want to keep going?”

  “Yeah.”

  The word is filled with want. I didn’t even know I could sound like that.

  He pushes me up against the wall and starts kissing harder.

  I lose myself.

  He starts unbuttoning my shirt. I do the same, with his. It’s sort of a scramble. We’re still in suits and ties, but I want to see as much of his body as I can. I run my hand down his bare chest, to his stomach. I’ve wanted to do this the whole time, and now I finally can.

  But then I come back to myself.

  What am I doing?

  “Hey,” I say, pushing him back.

  His shirt is hanging open now, and every part of me wants to touch him even more. His chest is all smooth, hard planes.

  “What?”

  “I want to hear it from you. Who are you?”

  “I’m Jason. You know me.”

  “But what’s your last name?”

  He lowers his hands and looks into my eyes. My whole body sort of aches.

  “Donovan,” he says. “Should I stop?” he asks.

  I shake my head.

  He grabs me by the shirt, pulls me to him, and kisses me again.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I kissed Jason Donovan.

&n
bsp; I’d be totally lying if I said I regret it. Because I straight-up don’t.

  But it might be the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. It might be the stupidest thing anyone has ever done.

  He’s a Donovan, and I’m a Miller. We’re supposed to be mortal enemies. We shouldn’t even be friends. And yet, I keep finding myself thinking about how it felt.

  Right now I’m standing at the back of a ballroom. It’s the Miller ball, so everyone around me is either from our family or one who’s allied with us. It’s a totally over-the-top spectacle, complete with waiters in white suits serving canapés. There’s also this massive swan ice sculpture in the middle of the room. A band in tuxedos is at the back, playing slow classical music.

  The room we’re in is pretty over-the-top, too. The walls are this pretty soft gold color, and a crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling. I wonder how much it’s worth … and how many people were hurt so our family can afford all of this.

  It’s cool, but also probably not worth however much it cost.

  But who cares.

  I kissed a Donovan.

  I keep finding myself thinking about how it felt to be kissed by him. Because seriously: He’s a great kisser. He acted like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he’s done it a bunch before. I get all the hype about kissing now, because there’s nothing else like it. I don’t know how people do anything other than make out all the time.

  It was my first kiss, but I know it was a good one. That was the kind of kiss people write songs about. It was magical and perfect, and I want almost desperately to do it again.

  I can’t, though.

  I went to the dance to find out if my theory is correct. To find out his last name.

  Now that I know what it is, I can’t ever see him again.

  Donovans and Millers have hated each other for so long. Dad has told me countless stories about what treacherous, bad people they are. Like Victoria Donovan, who is the reason hard drugs are so popular with many of the youth of the city. She targeted them and made the drugs readily available. And then there’s Christopher Donovan, who killed five people over a debt of five grand. He wiped out a whole family because the poor sucker who loaned from him couldn’t pay him back on time.

  This is the story I’ve heard, over and over.

  Donovans are the most selfish, awful people around. They can never be trusted. The only good thing to do with them is kill them.

  Because as much as we’re criminals, at least Millers care about the people of the city. We make ourselves rich at the same time, too, sure. But we’re forgiving. And considerate. And we never put ourselves above the general well-being of the city. People like illegal stuff, and we’re happy to provide it.

  Jason acts a lot more like us than any Donovan I’ve ever heard of.

  I turn my attention back to the ball. I’m surprised it’s even going on, given everyone knows about the Donovans’ scheme now.

  As long as I never talk to him about my family, he can’t ruin my life. Right?

  No.

  This is just me being stupid.

  I had no idea how much I needed a friend until I got a taste of it. To use an expression Dad uses a lot: I’ve swirled the drink. It can’t hurt me.

  But if I were to see him again …

  Ugh.

  I wish he was an ordinary guy.

  “Hello, earth to Matthew.”

  I look up and see Cassidy standing in front of me. She’s holding two glasses of champagne. She looks amazing right now, in a sleek, floor-length black dress.

  She offers me a glass.

  “Thanks,” I say, and I take a sip, even though I don’t like drinking. It’s very crisp, and probably superexpensive. It’s still gross, though. Who even likes this stuff? “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

  “No worries,” she says, leaning against the golden wall beside me. “Having a good night?”

  “Clearly.”

  She laughs and tilts her glass toward me. We cheers.

  “Yeah, me too,” she says. “My mom drags me to these things; it’s the worst.”

  “Oh, really? What would you rather be doing?”

  She pauses, thinking. “Pretty much anything. You?”

  “Yeah, same.”

  “Figures. Why do they make us come here?”

  I shrug. “I guess they want us to learn how stuff works. We’re going to be like them, one day.”

  “That’s a scary thought.”

  “Right?”

  Silence falls over us. We both watch the crowd. It is actually a pretty great spectacle. Everyone has gone all out with their outfits. Luke has taken off his suit jacket, revealing a white shirt and suspenders. He’s slow dancing with a girl in a red gown. Her hair is straightened, and she reminds me a little of a femme fatale. He dips her, then snaps her back up, so she’s fully pressed against him. She looks breathless. So does he.

  I wonder if Cassidy is jealous.

  She smiles. “I know you’re gay, by the way. I know it’s not just a rumor.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, dude, listen. I’m not going to out you. It’s our secret. But if you want people to stop talking, you should probably be a little more careful. I watched you for like five minutes and saw you check out every single even remotely hunky waiter in here. Plus, I’m in this dress, and you don’t seem nervous to talk to me. Nor have you looked at my décolletage.”

  I’ve known Cassidy for ages. I’ve never considered her a threat. But I don’t trust how I feel anymore.

  “I … um. Listen, I…”

  “Hey, it’s okay. I just want you to know I think it’s a good thing, if it is true. Maybe it’s even a great thing. This world has enough straight dudes. I think it’s time for the queers and the women to take over.”

  I nod. I feel like I can’t say anything.

  She smiles. “You know, we should hang out more.”

  It kind of surprises me. I’ve always thought Cassidy was way too cool for me.

  “Really?” I say.

  “Yeah!”

  What if she’s trying out the Friend Scheme?

  But there’s no way. She’s Cassidy Strickland; I’ve known her since she was five.

  There’s no way this is a Friend Scheme thing.

  She wants to be friends with me. For real.

  “Why?” I ask.

  “I feel like you’re really coming into your own lately. I don’t know. It’s like everyone has been underestimating you. Luke gets so much attention, and don’t get me wrong, he’s a cool guy, and he’s so fun to hook up with. But you have potential I don’t think many people see.”

  I laugh. “Potential for what?”

  “To change things! God, haven’t you noticed how old-fashioned this world is? Look at the women in this crowd and tell me you think they look happy. They don’t. And it’s because men like your dad and Luke have been running things for so long. But if a Miller like you was in charge … things could get better.”

  “Believe me, I’m not going to be in charge.”

  “If you want to be, you could. You’re a Miller, man! This whole world is yours. And if you want a friend who can show you how to take it, I’m here. Together, we could change this world, so people like us are happy here. We could use your last name to do some good. For us, anyway.”

  It’s kind of a cool idea.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say.

  “You better,” she says.

  She lifts off the wall and walks away.

  Huh.

  Maybe being friends with Cassidy would be a good thing.

  Maybe if I wasn’t so lonely, I’d be better able to resist the temptation that is Jason.

  Because I know that’s what I should do. I should resist.

  The band stops playing, and Vince steps up onto the stage to go up to the microphone. He’s wearing a white suit jacket, so he sort of matches the waiters. I’m sure he hates that.

  “Can I have your attention, please?” he says.


  I push up off the wall and walk closer.

  The curtains at the back of the room open, and oh my God.

  It’s Dad.

  He’s in a wheelchair and is being pushed by Sara. He’s dressed in a white shirt and slacks. I’m not sure he should be here. He looks really pale, and he still hasn’t shaved. He looks so ill. Sara pushes the wheelchair up to the microphone, and Vince hands Dad the mic.

  “I wanted to thank you all for coming,” says Dad. “I hope you’re all enjoying yourselves.”

  Vince claps Dad on the shoulder. “We have, buddy.”

  “I’m glad, but there’s another reason I’m here,” says Dad. “I want you all to know that I have heard about the Friend Scheme, and I am currently working my hardest to root out any Donovan moles within our ranks.”

  Holy. Shit.

  Dad’s talking about the scheme. It makes my skin crawl.

  “To that end, I have a request. If any of you have any suspicions about someone in your life, I ask that you come to me immediately and tell me all that you know. I understand that it will be hard, if you have formed a bond with them. But it’s what must be done. We must find every single Donovan in our ranks and put them down.”

  I finish my champagne in one go.

  “If you refrain, you are my enemy,” says Dad. “And you all know what I do to our enemies. Never forget that. Now, enjoy the rest of the party.”

  Dad is wheeled backstage.

  What he just said rings in my ears. If you refrain, you are my enemy.

  I’m not willing to give Jason up.

  It means I’m my dad’s enemy.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Jason hasn’t texted me back.

  I’m in my room, lying on my bed, staring at my phone.

  My room is a wreck. There are discarded clothes all over the floor, the carpet needs a vacuum, and dirty dishes are scattered around my desk and on my bookshelf. I’ve been distracted, and Dad isn’t around to tell me to clean up, so I haven’t.

  It’s been over a week since the dance. Eleven days, to be exact.

  We kissed, and he hasn’t messaged me.

  I can’t stop thinking about it. Maybe it’s because the Friend Scheme is out in the open between us.

  Or maybe it’s because I’m a bad kisser.

  Oh my God, what if I’m a bad kisser?