“Hardly.” Devon rolled her eyes at Bodhi. “How did you get here, anyways? You’re not supposed to be driving.”
Raven smiled, sheepish. “I hired a town car. I know it’s stupid rich person behavior, but man, it was so nice. I could totally get used to some of these perks.”
“Um, so I’ll call you later, okay?” Bodhi said. He grabbed Devon’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “We’re not going to just let you disappear into some Berkeley cloud. I’ll come visit next weekend, maybe.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Devon sneaked a peek at her mom, who waited awkwardly in the hallway, trying to give them a little space. “Yeah, okay. I’ll see you soon,” she said.
Bodhi kissed her. “Family is never easy,” he said gently. “So you don’t have to worry. You’ll get through it. It’s over.”
Only he could have made her believe something she doubted more than anything she ever had. The only thing she didn’t have to worry about was him. But maybe for now, that was enough. She and her mom were just getting started.
THE CAR RIDE HOME was silent. Horribly silent. Finally, as her mother parked her car in the driveway, she broke the silence. “Devon, I owe you an apology. I should probably start there.”
Heat moved down Devon’s arms, her chest. Her heart began to beat quicker. And then she exploded. “How could you not tell me? How could you let me go to that school and be watched by them all the time? Didn’t I deserve to know? You’ve been lying to me my whole life! How could you do that?”
A tear dripped down her mom’s right cheek. She reached over and wiped Devon’s face. Devon hadn’t even realized she’d been crying, too.
“I did what I thought I had to do. I knew I was playing with fire with Edward, but I never thought anything bad would really happen. And then I got pregnant with you, and I realized it was the best thing that could have happened. Edward and I agreed to stop seeing each other, but he didn’t want you to disappear from his life. He couldn’t be there, but he wanted to know about you. And …”
“And what?” Devon pushed.
“And I was in no position to turn down the money. I had to promise to keep his identity out of it. Forever.” Her mom leaned back on her headrest and squeezed her eyes shut. Wet mascara marks streaked her cheeks. “I should have told you. I should have believed you at New Year’s. I just never thought what position it might put you in.” She held one of Devon’s hands in both of hers and squeezed.
“So that phone number in your room?” Devon asked.
Her mom laughed a little through the tears. “You weren’t supposed to find that, but I guess I forgot who I was dealing with. Edward had a private line just for me. He knew something was up when you called it.”
Devon stared out the window. “So he really canceled my scholarship? Can I still not go back to Keaton? I was just looking where Reed wanted me to. It’s nothing personal to him. I didn’t even know what we were going to find.”
“It’s going to work out how it’s supposed to. I don’t know. I’m talking to him, though, okay? After Maya … I can’t believe he raised such a little spoiled brat.”
“Mom, she tried to have me killed.” Devon whipped around to face her. “You’re allowed to use harsher words than that.”
“Oh, I have, don’t you worry.” The words were a hoarse whisper. Mom leaned close to Devon, almost conspiratorially. “But listen, can we tackle this stuff tomorrow? I haven’t seen you in too long. How about we get takeout? We can eat too much and watch The Bachelor? I’m still looking for Mr. Right, you know.”
Devon nodded, a lump in her throat. “Maybe you’ll find him,” she said. “If it can happen to me, it can happen to you.”
HEADMASTER WYLER’S CALL CAME before the food arrived. “Next week ends your suspension, and we’d love to welcome you back to Keaton if you feel up to it,” he said.
Devon stared at her mom, eyes wide. She silently mouthed his name. Her mother dashed upstairs to grab the cordless from her bedroom. Devon waited until she heard the click before continuing. “Um, I’d love to, but don’t we need to talk about financial aid or something like that?”
He chuckled. “We could talk about financial aid if you want, but I’m afraid that doesn’t apply to you. You have a full scholarship, Devon. You’re covered. And I trust that the future will be much less uncertain.”
Devon’s chin quivered. It felt stupid and childish, but the thought of never going back hurt more than she expected. Her mom rushed over from the bottom of the stairwell and wrapped an arm around Devon’s shoulder. She was crying again, not that Devon could blame her.
“Is the scholarship from the same place it was before? Because if it is …”
“No, Devon. It’s actually a new scholarship that was just created. I’m not at liberty to tell you the donors specifically, but they wanted it to be called The Reed Hutchins Memorial Scholarship. And you’re the lucky recipient until you graduate.”
Devon could barely force the words past the lump in her throat. “Okay, that’s amazing. I’ll be there on Sunday night. And Headmaster Wyler, I’m really looking forward to being back. I’m not going to jeopardize that again.”
Her mom broke into her secret stash of Nutter Butters to celebrate.
CHAPTER 28
Monday, February 11
Devon nearly slammed into Dr. Hsu coming out of her office. “What are you doing here?” Dr. Hsu asked.
“Isn’t this our regular time?” Devon asked, puzzled.
Dr. Hsu shook her head and ushered Devon back through the door. The office was in disarray, halfway packed and strewn with boxes. “I’m sorry they didn’t tell you. Friday was my last day of work. I’m just clearing out my office today … I was on my way to phone my husband.”
“Really?” Devon asked.
Instead of the closed-off, professional stare Dr. Hsu usually had, Devon saw the human being. It was the same glimmer of empathy Dr. Hsu had shown when she’d spotted Raven crying on Devon’s shoulder.
“I should apologize. And I should also thank you.” She laughed as if finally getting a joke. “You reminded me that coasting is never an option with this job. Easy doesn’t really exist. You still think you want to be a therapist?”
“I don’t know.” Devon shrugged and sat on the edge of the familiar blue suede couch, now dusty. “Actually, that’s a lie. I do. When I think about the future, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d want to be than in that chair.” She nodded toward Dr. Hsu’s blanket, a rumpled heap on the seat cushion. “If someone had gotten to Maya Dover earlier, or Eric Hutchins earlier …”
“Maybe someone can get to their child,” Dr. Hsu agreed.
Devon turned to her. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Dr. Hsu nodded. She opened her top desk drawer and pulled out a thin envelope. “If you’re still interested, I wrote you a recommendation letter. Maybe you’ll use it for Stanford, maybe not. Your call.”
“But …” Devon’s lips pressed into a tight line. She was still angry.
“I know you must hate me,” Dr. Hsu said. “If you want to report me to the board, I’d understand. I didn’t tell Maya’s mother anything personal, you know. I never shared our confidences. Except the Vericyl. I couldn’t watch that happen. You didn’t need it. I’m not sure anyone does, but there’s apparently a market for it. And I guess we both know how the Dovers think. Money, money, money.”
“Thank you, I guess?” Devon said after a moment.
Dr. Hsu smiled. “That is more than generous. And more than appropriate. You’ll be fine, Devon. You know what you’re doing. Have faith in yourself.”
Devon held out her right hand to shake. It seemed “appropriate” as well. But instead Dr. Hsu pulled her into a hug.
THE LONG RAIN SPELL was finally over. The clouds were burning off, and a soft morning breeze swept in from the ocean. Campus was silent, and Devon stopped in the middle of Raiter Lawn to feel the sun warm her face.
“Two weeks in Berkeley, and
you come back a sun-worshipping hippie?” a voice called across the lawn.
Devon opened her eyes as Cleo plodded toward her. “Time in the real world is like dog years compared to here,” she said.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Cleo stopped a few feet from Devon. Her smile faded. “Oz went back to St. Matthews. Missed his girlfriend too much, it turns out.”
Devon bit her lip. “I’m so sorry. I had to tell you … It sucks.”
Cleo shook her head. “It sucks, but whatever. I’m glad you told me. I’m not totally sure I would have done that if I was you. It was the right call. Now can we please pretend to do homework while you catch me up on this Montana thing I heard about?”
Devon’s eyes narrowed, fighting back the familiar rush of paranoia. “How do you hear about everything?”
“Like I’d tell you,” Cleo whispered, squeezing her hand. Her eyes drifted.
A girl with a Keaton baseball hat and hoodie was approaching them from downhill. Devon didn’t recognize her, but figured she’d just been away too long. The girl had long brown hair mashed under the cap, and a very sharp jaw. Her whole face was drawn. She looked … older. She smiled and waved.
“Devon?” the girl called.
Devon zeroed in on the waving hand—specifically its wedding ring. This girl wasn’t a girl at all.
The woman planted herself in front of Devon and Cleo. It was clear now that she was in her mid-twenties at least. “Devon Mackintosh, you’re served. Your mother, your legal guardian, has just been served with the same papers. Have a good day.” She flashed a sour smile, shoved something in Devon’s hands, then turned and hurried away.
Devon gaped at the retreating woman, unable to move as she vanished into a waiting sedan in the parking lot across Raiter Lawn. Devon didn’t know what had just happened. Somehow she was holding a manila envelope. She turned to Cleo, who nodded quickly, her eyes wide.
“Open it,” Cleo ordered.
These were legal documents of some sort; the formal language might as well have been written in Sanskrit. But Devon’s eyes homed in on the one vital piece that made sense: Lawsuit from Dover Industries against Devon Mackintosh. For her percentage of ownership of the Dover, Hutchins, and Keaton trust.
She was being sued by a corporation. Her father’s corporation.
“Oh my God,” Cleo whispered.
Devon turned to her friend. Funny, for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel frightened in the least. Not of secrets, not of lies, not of hidden motivations. She knew the truth now, and the truth was all she needed. Let them sue her. Whether Edward liked it or not, she was an heir now. If they wanted her out of the way so they could take over the Keaton hillside and probably bulldoze the school, they would have to do more than hire a few lawyers. With Bodhi and Raven’s scholarship, Devon was staying at Keaton. After that, the future was hers to make, on her own terms.
“Game on,” she whispered to Cleo. “Game on.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Daniel Ehrenhaft for your guidance throughout Hero Complex. This book is richer, more articulate, and actually completed because of you.
Big thanks to everyone at Soho Teen and Soho Press including: my cover girl, Rachel Kowal; publicity maven Meredith Barnes; cover design guru Janine Agro; and Ms. Soho Press, Bronwen Hruska. Thank you for your support of this book.
Julie Otsuka’s heartfelt book, When the Emperor Was Divine, was a moving story about the internment of Japanese Americans during WWII. In my research of this period, her book, among a handful of others, humanized this little-discussed piece of American history.
Ned Vizzini was a fantastic writer I only had the pleasure of meeting once, but I was inspired by his fearless writing, and hope that his work will be influential for years and generations to come.
To my Los Angeles Soho Pub Sisters, Jen Klein, Risa Green, and Amy Talkington, thank you for the glasses of wine and open ears and inboxes for questions, conundrums, and general writerly advice.
To the Lee family in Berkeley: Desiree, Joon, Jolly, and Kat, thank you for hosting my “research” trips and being my Berkeley home away from home. Cheeseboard forever!
Many thanks to my family for your never-ending enthusiasm and support of this whole writing endeavor. My mom might be the best mom-publicist in Santa Barbara; thank you for talking to everyone and anyone that might listen about my books.
To the Dovev family, the Cohen-Martins, Jim Campolongo, Alex McNally, Heather Mitchell and Nate, Angelo Surmelis, Ed Baran, Camillia Monet, Christie Havey-Smith, Billie Speer, Octavia Spencer, Claire Naber and Amin Matalqa, Jared and Carrye Glazar, Ava Jamshidi, Brandy Rivers, and Sean Barclay for being my Los Angeles cheer section. Hanging out with you all is the best reward after a long day of writing.
Joel, thank you for enduring the mountains of Post-it notes, and the many days, weeks—okay, months, I spent glued to my desk, writing and talking to myself. Writing isn’t always pretty, but I’m so grateful that you love this writer. I love you.
Hero Complex Page 18
