by D. A. Maddox
They were nearly there. Malcolm thought to set her down, save her some ribbing from her non-Select sorority sisters who might still be up. But Melody clung to him tighter, so he continued carrying her.
“It’s going to be a long four years,” he said. “But for you, I’ll wait.”
And he only set her down once they were at her front door.
****
At eight-thirty in the morning, Veronica stepped outside. Two hours earlier, at wake-up and at breakfast, she had been warned there might be people out there—strangers, media even—and had been offered a police escort. She’d refused. All by herself, in her plain white blouse, blue jeans, and sneakers—without so much as a handbag—she returned to the world of the free, such as it was for people of transitional age.
The parking lot was practically empty. At the end of the concrete walk, at the curb, were two vehicles: a silver Vance Revelry—within which her mother sat behind the wheel, staring straight ahead—and a red, white, and blue police cruiser, against which leaned a tired looking Officer F. Gillis.
She still hadn’t said which ride she’d prefer to take back to school, and she still wasn’t sure. But now, as she closed the distance and stood between them, a choice had to be made. Veronica waved at her mother, tried to get her attention.
Nothing.
She let out a frustrated sigh and went first to Officer Gillis. He turned to her.
“You all right, Miss Cruz?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir,” she said. “You saw how it all went down. I’m okay.”
He shook his head. “Actually, no. I don’t watch that garbage.”
Veronica took a breath. “I wanted to thank you,” she said. The courtesy, freely given, still brought a blush to her cheeks. Damn, but it didn’t come easily.
“Thank me?” he said, bemused. “What for? For driving you to prison?”
“You were kind to me,” she said. “You didn’t have to be. You were no bullshit.”
“You’re welcome,” he said, rather less than comfortable himself. “I take it I won’t be driving you back?” At this, he nodded to the other car, where the driver’s side door opened and an alligator skin boot touched pavement.
“No,” Veronica said—and hugged him.
“Veronica.”
The voice was shocked. Aghast. Angry.
Veronica let him go, but not without a little flick to his badge and a wink. Without looking back for his reaction, she turned from him and went to her mother—who was standing, arms crossed, by the open door of the Revelry.
But when she stopped in front of her and just waited, eventually her mother put her arms down and let out a breath. “We’re going straight to Dr. Jameson,” she said. “It’ll be a little uncomfortable, Veronica—but you’re to receive a full examination so that I can sue this place to bankruptcy.”
“Oh, Mother,” Veronica said, and wrapped her arms around her as well. “Stop. I’m fine. Let it just be over, all right?”
Her mother stood stoically. She said nothing.
“You can hug me back, you know,” Veronica said. “I am your daughter. It’s normal.”
Awkwardly, her mother wrapped her arms around Veronica and gave a slight squeeze in return. “The child is upset,” she said, rationalizing. “She doesn’t—”
“The child’s name is Veronica,” Veronica said, still holding her, crying a little in spite of herself. “Or just Ronnie.” Then she pulled back. “She’s a grown-ass woman, Mother—who got what was coming to her and took it like a badass. You’re not going to undo that, okay?”
“Veronica, from the start of all this, I’ve only tried—”
“You wanted to save me. You did your best. Thank you, Mother. But I saved myself, and everything’s already fine. There’s nothing more for you to do. It’s over.”
Jada Forsythe-Cruz stared down at her daughter, her heels giving her an extra two inches to do it from. “Veronica, there is still your reputation—our image—”
“Intact, Mother,” Veronica said. “Trust me. It’s like you said. The only thing I don’t have is the stupid skull—and you better not sue this place—”
“Veronica, what—”
“Because in six months to a year from now, this show’s going to turn me into a fucking rock star.”
Jada tilted her head, somewhat taken aback.
“Can I get in the car now?”
Eventually, her mother nodded.
****
One Month Later
Spring Break
The do-over for the Origins Fete was voluntary, but almost everyone agreed over email to participate. Strange, Malcolm thought, rolling out the old pig bone pens and inkwells that had, regrettably, been absent at the last one. You’d think they’d felt cheated out of the lottery instead of rescued from it. Why they’d want to put their names into the bowls again…
But he was kidding himself. He knew. The real game was back in play.
It would happen the first Friday night back.
“We won’t be calling them pig-sluts,” Tabitha said, holding one of the old pens reverently in both hands. “They legit got through that part.”
Malcolm nodded his approval. “Agreed.”
The door to the ballroom opened, causing them to start. But it was only Veronica.
“Hey, you two,” she called. “May I intrude?”
“Come on in,” Malcolm said, waving her inside. “Can’t think why you’re still here, though. Isn’t your mom expecting you home tonight?”
It wasn’t like they needed her to help plan this. And Veronica hadn’t tried. She’d slipped back into the ranks with Brandy and Colt and Rusty and Zeke without causing so much as a ripple.
Veronica stopped in front of the cart. “Going back old school, I see,” she said.
Tabitha chuckled. “You expected anything less? What’s up?”
“New transfers,” Veronica purred. “Three sophomores out of Tech. Got the referral from Sustrick after their orientation.” She took out her phone and powered it on to show their headshots, one swipe at a time.
“Cute,” Tabitha said, eyes narrowing with pleasure.
“That one,” said Malcolm, pointing. “That one, I definitely like.”
“Perhaps the Skulls would not object if I suggested they … delegate recruitment efforts?”
Malcolm and Tabitha looked at each other, shrugging together.
“You have the experience,” Tabitha said, “Feel free.”
Malcolm thought, All’s well that ends well.
And hoped Melody would come back from her home visit early.
****
They got off at the nearest bus stop, which still allowed them two blocks of a walk before they eventually made it to Savannah’s house. Their bags were light. Dad said he’d drive them both back up to school the day after tomorrow. Then they’d have time to hop another bus and visit Scott’s family.
But again, Savannah considered just biting the bullet and buying a car of her own. The stipend from Nat Geo would practically cover it, if she didn’t go too crazy. “Here we are,” she said, “scenic and relatively toothless old Lake Ridge.”
Scott took her hand. They walked. “I like it,” he said. “Kind of an old town feel that still holds the promise of a nearby 7-11.”
Savannah was more than content. She was happy. Her father was going to love Scott. They were good guys, the both of them.
Soon enough, her house came into view: just your typical brick and siding one-floor suburban with a porch swing and a front lawn. A real regular-people house, where Savannah had spent quite a lot of time growing up before being swallowed by the state and high school—then the state and college. It was a house where her mother and her father had tried their best to teach her how to be a good person, how to live and be happy.
Two of those things, they’d done to completion. How to live, she’d finished on her own, and with a little help from Scott.
“Do you think,” he nervously ventured,
“he’ll suspect we’ve already…”
“No chance,” Savannah said. “He won’t suspect anything.”
“Thank God.”
“I already told him.”
Scott stopped dead in his tracks.
“I trust him, Scott,” she said, squeezing his hand, nudging him forward. “Do you trust me?”
Eventually, he started walking again. He squeezed her hand back.
“I do,” he said, “from now until the end of time.”
The End
Other Books by D.A. Maddox:
www.evernightpublishing.com/d-a-maddox
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