“Well, couldn’t you at least email?”
Daphne recalled her little hacking stunt in the library at Neverland Academy, just before she’d met Finn. And then he’d just shown up at her house tonight out of the blue. There was something about him that she just couldn’t figure out. But it was intriguing. And she was curious. Carrie lifted an eyebrow as she waited for Daphne to respond.
“No, sorry. The ‘rents are screening my emails. I’ve got to keep it on the down low for awhile, you know?”
“Man, they really are keeping you under lock and key, huh? I guess I needn’t ask how you managed to pay us a visit tonight?”
Daphne jangled her mother’s key chain in front of Carrie’s face. “Nope. I think you know good and well how this works. Where’s Rocks?”
“He was going to get some drinks. It may be a while, though. There’re a lot of people here.” Carrie’s eyes shifted beyond Daphne. “Or maybe not.”
Daphne turned to find her boyfriend carrying three bottles of Terrapin beer in each hand. His three-inch Mohawk was stiffer than a corpse and painted neon green, a new shade since last she saw him. His brown eyes were heavily lined with enough black makeup to make Cleopatra look like a line drawing.
“Hey babe,” Rocks said, handing Daphne a bottle. He wrapped his other arm around the small of her back and pulled her body to his roughly. “I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Daphne said, and kissed him.
In an exaggerated effort, Carrie cleared her throat. “Is that for me?”
Without letting go of Daphne, Rocks reached an arm out and Carrie took both bottles. “How did you get through the crowd so fast? I thought it’d take an hour to get served.”
“I’m with the band sweetie. I get special treatment.” Rocks pulled away from Daphne, though she still held on to him. “I gotta go find the guys. They’re waiting on their refreshments.” Rocks lifted the hand that still held three bottles. Daphne stared longingly as he marched away.
“How’s he been?” Daphne asked, watching the earlier band leave the stage.
“You know, the usual. Let’s go get a spot up front.”
The girls pushed and maneuvered their way through the crowd. Since Daphne was so small she led the way, meandering through bodies and pulling her Amazonian friend behind her. When they finally reached the stage they ignored the dirty looks tossed their way.
“What do you mean, the usual? Like it doesn’t even matter that I’m gone?”
“No, I mean, I think maybe he’s just coping. You know, it’s not going to do him any good to mope around without you.”
“So he’s still going out? Partying? Moving on?” Daphne caught a glimpse of Rocks with his band mates. A tall, thin brunette was walking her fingers up Rocks’s sleeveless arm, tracing the dragon tattoo on his bicep. He didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he looked to be quite enjoying it.
“Don’t think of it that way, Daph. He’s not moving on, he’s just—” Carrie turned to see what Daphne was looking at. Disheartened, she turned back to Daphne. “Look, I don’t think he’s ready for a serious commitment yet. But he’s still all about you.”
“Huh. I’m not sure I’m buying it.”
“Don’t worry about those little tramps. You know how it is with bands. They’re everywhere. They mean nothing to him.”
“Yeah, I know. But I won’t be at his shows anymore. And I know how guys are. Pretty soon someone else will come along and he’ll forget all about me.”
The brunette Daphne was staring at reached up and pulled Rocks’s face down to whisper something in his ear. It didn’t look like she was just some girl he’d only just met. If Daphne didn’t know better, she’d think the brunette was more than just a groupie.
Carrie looked down at Daphne with sorrowful eyes while the band took the stage. Rocks made brief eye contact with Daphne and winked just before twirling the drumsticks and kicking out the beat of the first song. Daphne’s heart sank. She barely even heard the music while she thought of all the college girls surrounding her, ogling her boyfriend. Rocks was 22 and she was only 17. Maybe he wanted someone older, more mature. Not a girl that was still in high school and living with her parents. She couldn’t block out the vision of the brunette flirting with him, or how he enjoyed it.
As he hammered the drums, Daphne watched him intently, interpreting every nuance in his behavior as a sign that he’s moved on. The music was nothing more than irritating background noise by now. Daphne could have sworn he winked at somebody else. Following his gaze, her eyes rested on the brunette, who was leaning on the other side of the stage.
Daphne had had enough. Once the band paused for a break, she shoved her empty beer bottle into Carrie’s hands and made her way to the side of the stage just as Rocks was coming off.
“Hey baby,” he said as he reached out for Daphne, but she dodged him.
“We need to talk.”
“Now? We’re in the middle of a show. It can wait 'til later.”
“No.” Daphne glared at him. “It can’t.”
A look of boredom washed over his face and he stared up at the rafters in the ceiling. He sighed heavily. “I know what this is about.”
“You do?” Daphne was puzzled.
“Yeah. It’s about us, right? Look, Daphne. I like you. You know that. But this thing we have—with you living here and me in Atlanta—it’s just not going to work.”
Daphne panicked. She had gotten herself all worked up about the other girl and had been fully prepared to let him have it. She hadn’t been expecting him to break up with her. “But we can make it work. I only have one year of school left, and then I can do whatever the hell I want. I’ll come back to the city. Everything will be fine.”
Rocks shook his head. “I know what your parents are like. They won’t just let you go. Anyway, you should move on too. I’m not worth crying over.” One of his band mates tapped him on the shoulder and mumbled something in his ear. “Hey, look. I gotta get back on stage. You take care, okay?”
By the time he’d reached the stage, Daphne was pushing her way back through the crowd to reach the exit. In her rush to get out she bumped into several people.
“Hey bitch!”
Daphne turned to find a tall blonde in a silk top, stained with some kind of red liquid.
“You spilled my drink!”
Daphne scowled at the girl and turned to leave. She didn’t have time to argue or apologize. Not with the rising tide of emotions she was trying to hold down.
A clawed hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around. Something took hold of Daphne. It was another emotion, one that caused this whole Athens mess to begin with. The same one that took hold of her at Kiera’s party in Atlanta. As the blonde girl turned Daphne to face her, Daphne clenched her fist and swung hard and fast, making contact with the girl’s cheek. The girl swung back and just barely nicked Daphne across the forehead. Daphne swung again, but her arm was caught as a bouncer dragged her away and out the front entrance.
***
“You don’t think it was too much, do you?”
Mrs. Werring clutched her husband’s arm as they departed from an upscale Italian restaurant and walked toward Clayton Street where they had parked. Her heels clicked against the sidewalk, a subtle arrogant sound against the background of drunken college revelry going on around them. They were, after all, right across the road from the main campus of the University of Georgia.
“Not at all, darling,” Mr. Werring replied. “You made a notable impression tonight: firm, capable, and as tenacious as ever.”
“Are you sure? Don’t you think I come off as pushy and arrogant?”
“Absolutely not. And even if you had, there are plenty of other potential investors out there.”
The couple turned onto a one-way side street. The darkness enveloped them, only to lift under an occasional street lamp.
“Yes, but none with the financial backing of the Richardsons,” Mrs. Werring sighed.
�
��Don’t worry. They need time to think it over. I’m sure they be ready to negotiate by the end of next week.”
Mr. Werring wore his confidence almost as well as his perfectly manicured blond hair. Mrs. Werring didn’t really need his reassurance; she was as headstrong as he, if not more so. But like any red-blooded human, she reveled in hearing it. Her poise diminished however, under a red neon sign that read “Jagger’s” in sloppy cursive. Her heels stopped clacking.
“Darling?”
Mr. Werring pulled back. “What is it?”
She didn’t say a word. Simply pointed at the silver BMW Z3 parked just three feet away from them. She didn’t need to see the license plate to confirm it was her car. She could see the antique key hanging from the rearview mirror. It was a key Mr. Werring had given to her as a wedding gift. An heirloom passed down through generations of his family. There was no other like it.
Mr. Werring’s face wrinkled with rage. He stomped around the car, looking for scratches and dents. Lucky for Daphne there weren’t any. However, she wouldn’t be that lucky, considering they’d discovered her little stunt.
Just as he’d looked up at the entrance of the club, Daphne came stomping out, searching her purse for the car keys, followed closely by the bouncer. When she finally looked up, keys in her fingers, her eyes widened with terror in the bewildered stare of her parents. A stare that turned so icy it could have created glaciers in the Caribbean.
Chapter Five
That Boy
Flashes of white light pranced from side to side and top to bottom, in the dank, brick-lined tunnels underneath Neverland Academy. Bare feet—three sets of them—pounded in whispers, setting an ominous rhythm to the silent catacombs. The air underground was cool, almost chilly, a welcome respite from the scorching August sizzle of the Georgia summer. The musty odor made no matter to the boys—they didn’t smell so fresh themselves. A shower was a real treat to the outcast boys of Neverland Academy.
Finn was in the lead, wearing a crudely made headband with a small flashlight attached at the top with duct tape. Following him were a ginger-haired boy a little shorter than him, but strong statured like a wrestler, and a lanky boy with sloppily cut blond hair and indiscernible eyebrows. They heaved heavily, not so much because of the running, but to help them to stifle the laughter that was bursting from within. They were under the administration office now, and voices carried too easily in that particular run of the tunnel.
Finn led the boys into a small, dark cellar that jutted out from the tunnel. He erupted into a fit of raucous laughter. His companions joined him in the humorous howling.
“That was epic, guys,” Finn spat between guffaws.
Once he’d caught his breath Finn fumbled around in a corner, switching on a battery-operated camping lantern. The small room glowed with a faded amber hue, revealing hidden cubbies built into the walls, about a foot tall and the length of a human body. Stuffed inside many of them were wads of blankets and clothes. Others held a range of objects from board games to packaged food, most of which were considered by adults to be junk: Twinkies, Cheetos, potato chips, granola bars, and enough Oreos to feed the entire academy staff and students.
“That was beyond epic,” said the red-haired boy as he ripped open a bag of Cheetos and began devouring the neon orange nuggets by the handful.
“Pass them over, Trick,” said the tall boy. He sat down on the floor, leaning his back against the wall and stretched out his arm. Trick pulled out one massive handful and tossed the bag to his friend.
“Hangman’s got the munchies, too.” Trick grinned devilishly.
Finn turned and flung his headlamp into a cubby. He frowned at both the boys. “You guys been tripping again?”
“Not me,” Hangman retorted. “You know I’m not into that stuff. I get a high seeing Vermin get what’s coming to him.”
Finn’s eyes shot to Trick.
“Okay, you got me. I found some weed in that new kid’s stash. I just borrowed a little.” Finn stomped over to Trick and stopped within two inches of his face.
“Where?” he demanded.
“Don’t worry, man. It was way back at the lake. No one could smell it.”
“You should have told me.”
“Did it matter?”
“Of course it matters!” Finn barked. “It’s not just the smell that could lead them down here. I know what that stuff does to your head. You could have gotten lazy. Careless. You could have screwed up the plan.”
“But I didn’t.”
“That’s not the point! Look, Trick, I don’t care if you smoke dope. I don’t care if you smoke or shoot or snort anything else for that matter. You are free to do whatever the hell you want here, you know that. But you do it on your time and not mine. You knew we had plans tonight. I can’t risk all of our lives on your dope habit. Next time, you tell me. Understand?”
“Yeah, Finn. Sorry,” Trick murmured. Finn snatched the bag of Cheetos from Hangman and poured the remains directly into his mouth. A waterfall of orange gushed down.
“Hey, shouldn’t the others be back by now?” Hangman wondered aloud. Finn rubbed his arm across his chin, dusting off the remaining powder in an orange flurry.
“We’ll give them a few more minutes,” Finn said, glancing back toward the tunnel opening. “Shag’s probably slowing them down with that bum knee.”
“I told that dumbass not to jump off that wall,” Trick piped in. “I guess that’s what he gets for having such a monstrous ego.”
“Almost parallels the size of yours. After all, you wouldn’t shut up about the night you snagged that kid’s iPod,” Hangman mused. “I still can’t figure out how you managed to do it right in front of his eyes.”
Trick snickered, his smile reaching both ears. “And that’s the reason for my namesake, my friend. A magician never reveals his secrets. I’ve always got plenty of tricks up my sleeve.”
“You’re not wearing any sleeves,” Hangman argued.
“It’s an expression you moron!”
Finn stood, leaning against the wall, looking bored. He was tired of listening to those two bumbling boys talking and wished they’d just shut up.
“Shh!”
Trick and Hangman shut their mouths abruptly and looked up at Finn. He was listening intently to the silence in the tunnel. A subtle glow cast shadows on the bricks across the way. Suddenly, a small figure with a mop of short curly hair skidded to a halt at the entrance.
“Toot! Where’s Shag and Kevin?” Finn asked, suddenly alert. The smaller boy—the youngest of those living under the academy at age twelve—folded over and huffed, struggling to catch his breath. “They’re . . . coming . . .” He continued to gasp for air.
“Did you get them?”
“Course we did,” Toot snapped between breaths. “We’re not morons.”
Two more boys came to a halt behind Toot. Shag, a stocky teenager with long black fringe that covered his eyes, shoved Toot to the side. Toot tumbled over and shot up just as quickly, ramming his shoulders into Shag’s solid body, barely nudging him.
“Nice try, Toot.” Shag laughed and flipped his hair to the side. “But you’re still a runt.”
Toot began to walk away, then turned and swiftly kicked Shag behind the knee. He went down and cried out in pain.
“You’re gonna regret that!” Shag reached out and clawed Toot’s jeans at the ankle. He yanked and Toot fell with a yelp.
“Okay guys, enough horseplay for now,” Finn declared. “Did you get enough, Kevin?”
Kevin’s dark skin made him nearly invisible in the dim light of the tunnels. He held up his hand, displaying a ragged coil of wires, some copper and others wrapped in colored plastic.
“I think so,” Kevin replied. His voice was deep and gravelly, which made him sound much more mature than the boy of fifteen that he was. “I need to strip these first, but there should be plenty if I disconnect one of the kitchen outlets and run these down to the main cellar.”
Fi
nn thought for a moment, arching his eyebrows and pinching his chin. He narrowed his eyes at Kevin. “Do you think there’s enough to reach Pervpot’s bedchamber?” Finn never called the headmaster by his true name. That would give him too much respect. Too much credibility, which he didn’t deserve. Ever since the incident that got him kicked out of the academy, Finn had made it his life’s mission to make Byron Trappe’s life a living hell. Most of his pranks were subtle; something that could be blamed on chance or coincidence or a random student. But once in a while he’d do something more substantial, just to remind Trappe that he was still around and that he still had the upper hand. Out of all the boys lost to the academy, Finn’s ego was the greatest. He couldn’t be topped. And that’s why the boys looked to him as their leader.
“Maybe,” Kevin replied as he studied the wires. “If not, I can easily get hold of some smaller wires to attach.”
“Good,” said Finn. “We’ll need them.”
***
A set of fingers tapped sharply on the varnished mahogany table in tune to the ticking of the clock that hung on the wall at the head of the conference room. A cough and a sniffle broke the rhythm. The buzz of a phone that had been silenced added to the tension, only to be ignored.
Thirteen professors, all men, sat at the long conference table, irritated that their sleep had been interrupted for this impromptu meeting. The stifling heat aggravated the men even more. Not one of them would escape this room without sweat stains on his shirt. Most would have had no idea the power had been cut for nearly an hour had they not been woken up by Trappe’s page. He’d sent Professor Smeed to check the breaker but when he arrived he was met by Finn, Trick, and Hangman. They held him off, playing head games with him in the dark, all to keep him from getting within five feet of the circuit breaker. After an hour of no power, Trappe called in the other professors. By the time they’d arrived Smeed was huddled in a corner like a trapped mouse, and the boys were long gone.
The air in the conference room was taut with heat and tension only to be heightened when the door flung open. Trappe entered and, leaning upon his cane, marched to the head of the table. The sound of the cane cracked against the wooden floorboards and his shoes gave off a slightly higher pitch. The angry sound seemed to amplify the morbid tension.
Neverland Academy Page 4
