“Don’t be such a hypocrite, Abbie. You were inhaling Adderall like it was candy. Kyle Davidson’s drunken rant was what set all of this in motion.”
I frown. “Kyle Davidson graduated last year. What does he have to do with any of this?”
“How do you think I got the photo? Kyle and I were hanging out in his room one evening, enjoying an alcoholic beverage or two. Then he started bragging about how he had a picture of this popular girl getting wild, and I wouldn’t believe who it was. I thought he was talking about naked pictures or something, so I convinced him to send it to me so I could see.”
“Kyle would never do that.”
“The fifty thousand dollars I got from you says he did.”
Trevor explains that the photo surprised him, but he never gave it another thought until his gambling debt started mounting and his father diminished his financial support.
I sit on his roommate’s bed, my legs unable to support me. “Frances is one of my best friends. You’ve been to my house. I thought you were my friend too. I blamed Sidney the whole time.”
“That was the plan.”
“What?”
“It was no secret that you and Sidney hated each other. All I had to do was throw in a couple phrases she would use. Implicating her was easy. As long as you believed it was her, you wouldn’t suspect anyone else.”
“That’s why you changed your voice to female, using voice-altering software. To guarantee, I would believe it was a girl and most likely Sidney.”
“Now you’re getting it.”
I think back to Sidney’s diary entry about the person who is supplying drugs to students. She said Kellogg would crap his pants if he found out who it was. With Trevor’s gambling debts, it made sense.
“Are you dealing drugs too?”
“I had to keep my girlfriend in the lifestyle to which she’s accustomed.”
“You’re blaming your despicable behavior on Frances?” I want to hit him again, but I know it won’t do any good.
“I’ll be back in my dad’s good graces soon, and this whole ugly episode will be behind me.”
“You won’t get away with this, Trevor.”
“I already did,” he says, removing his glasses. “I didn’t think you would catch me, though. I was prepared to walk out of here with your hundred thousand, in addition to the killing I made dealing. My debt would have been wiped out. How did you track me anyway?”
“I’m smarter than you.”
“Don’t be mad, Abbie. I wasn’t really going to rat you out.”
“You almost ruined my life, and you think it’s a joke? Frances is going to kick you out of her life for good.”
“We’re all but over, anyway.”
My eyes wander around the room.
“You can look all you want, but you won’t find anything linking me to those phone calls or the money drop. No one will believe you.”
I pull out my phone from my coat pocket and hold it up so he can see. “I disagree, Trevor. Everybody will believe you did it because you told them in your own words.”
“What are you talking about?”
I replay the confession he just made. The cockiness vanishes. I stand up and get in his face. He backs up, but there’s nowhere to run. He bumps into the door.
“I beat you, Trevor. You’re a hundred thousand dollars short of what you need to pay off your debt, and I figured out it was you. What do you think the people you owe are going to do to you when you can’t pay them back?”
I ask him to get out of my way so I can leave. I turn the doorknob and realize there’s one perplexing question he hasn’t answered.
“How did you get the note and the list in my locker without being captured by surveillance cameras?”
He looks at me with something resembling hatred in his eyes. Then he breaks into a big, cocky smile. “That was the easy part. Whenever I met you in the lounge to go over English lit homework or study for a test, you usually had the books for other classes spread out as well. I slipped the note and the list in the same way, when you were distracted and conversing with other people.”
CHAPTER 43
The next day, a distraught Frances calls me on my way to school. Trevor has disappeared. No one knows when he left his dorm room or the campus, not even his roommate. His belongings vanished along with him. I tell Frances to meet me in the chapel and bring Callie too.
“What’s going on, Abbie?” Frances asks, her arms crossed. “Do you know where Trevor is?”
“No. I don’t think he wants to be found, either.”
“What do you mean?” Callie asks.
“Frances, please sit down,” I say.
“That’s okay,” she says and continues to pace the aisle.
“What I have to say will help you understand what happened with Trevor. I spoke with him last night.”
That statement stops her in her tracks. “Last night? Where was this?”
“In his dorm room. Please sit. I have a spot saved for you,” I say, pointing to the seat in the middle of Callie and me.
Frances finally obeys. I have to face them both when I deliver the blow. It just makes sense to stand when I do.
“This bit of news will scare you and hurt you and make you angry. But you’ll be fine. We all will.”
“Just say it, Abbie,” Frances says, staring at the glossy polish on her fingernails.
“I found out who has been stalking and blackmailing me all these months. That’s why I went to see Trevor last night.”
“He knew who was behind it?” Frances asks.
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand,” Callie says. “If Trevor knew who it was, why didn’t he say something?”
“Because it was him all along. Trevor was the one behind the threats and extortion.”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Frances asks. “The stalker is a girl. Why would you make up a story about Trevor being the stalker?” Her forehead wrinkles and she squints at me.
I pull out my phone from the side pocket of my bag and play the recording for them.
At the end of the recording, no one says a word. I’ve had a few hours head start to grapple with the shock factor. Frances starts tearing up and crosses her arms over her chest. I understand how she feels. Hiccups give way to a river of dark tears. I sit with them. In that moment of profound betrayal and sadness, we don’t need words to express how we feel.
“He’s not coming back, is he?” Frances asks through her sniffles.
“I doubt it,” I respond.
“He’s on the run?” Callie asks.
“I think so.”
“What will you do with the recording?” Frances asks.
“Delete it. I only recorded it so you guys could hear him confess in his own words. He’s gone. We don’t need it anymore.”
CHAPTER 44
It’s a gorgeous Saturday morning in the middle of May. The sun seeps through the window, telling me I must hurry. I pull back the curtains and smile at the extra cars parked on our street, then return to the mirror for a final once over. Callie’s creation, a beautiful white dress made of lace and cotton, flounces out just above my knees. It’s cinched at the waist with a silver belt. I pick up the single white calla lily from the bed and place it above my right ear.
I scan the room to make sure I don’t forget anything. My eyes are drawn to the large frame resting against the closet door. It’s the painting of Christian and his mom in the park when he was five years old, chasing after that dog. He said he couldn’t think of a better graduation present because it was my favorite painting from his collection. It’s a gift I will always cherish. My present to him was a DVD collection of the best western movies ever made. He told me that he loved old westerns on our first date, and according to my dad, and All the Buzz, a well-known pop culture website, my choices were spot on.
“Abbie, you’re going to miss your own graduation if you don’t come out of this room right now.”
It’s my
dad. I open the bedroom door, and he walks in, looking handsome as always in a dark gray suit, white dress shirt, and navy blue silk tie with polka dots. His eyes well up when he gets a good look at me. Dad doesn’t usually get emotional, but this is a special day for him, too. He opens his arms wide, and I walk into his embrace.
“Your old man is profoundly proud of you. You make being your dad the best job in the world. I love you more than I can ever express.”
“You’re not bad yourself,” I reply and extract myself from the bear hug. “Ready to be the dad of a soon-to-be Yale freshman?”
He flashes that megawatt smile at me.
“Then you need to be the dad of a Saint Matthews graduate first. Let’s go.”
After the ceremony, graduates and their families exit the large tent set up for the event and embrace the vast, open space, and cloudless sky. All the senior girls sport white dresses, and the guys wear navy blue jackets, a tie, and khaki slacks. My parents are beaming, and Miles is fussing with his tie. Grandma Naomi drove up from Ridgefield, Connecticut, and my Uncle Michael and his wife, Analise, flew in from Mom’s home state of Louisiana. I know Ty made it to the ceremony, but I haven’t seen him yet.
“Hey, Abbie, let’s grab a spot at the gazebo for pictures before all the other families get the same idea,” Dad says.
“I’ll meet you guys there.”
I raise my hand to shield my eyes from the sun. I scan the crowds to see if I spot my girls, Christian, or Ty. I decide I’ll have to text them to find out where they are. I feel a hand on my shoulder. I turn around to find Lance grinning at me, Dahlia at his side. I can’t help it. I rush into his arms and give him a great, big hug.
“You, too, Dahlia,” I say, and I hug her after I release Lance.
“Congratulations on getting into Carnegie Mellon,” I say to Lance.
“Thanks. I got a full ride too. Funny how the school just happened to have that money available the minute they accepted me. You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Mama?”
“Me? I have no idea. But you deserve it, Lance.”
“Girl, you are something else,” Dahlia says shaking her head. “Yale’s going to have their hands full with you.”
We have a good laugh and take a few selfies. We promise to keep in touch, and they go off to be with their family and friends. Lance saved me, and this was the only way I could repay him. I asked my parents to use the money they would have spent on my tuition on Lance’s instead.
I join my family at the gazebo, and we take a million pictures, laughing and goofing off all through it. Then I notice someone approaching us. Christian. When he gets closer, my parents leave us alone, dragging the other family members with them.
“I’ve been looking everywhere for you. My phone died, so I couldn’t text you.”
“Here I am.” I wrap my arms around his neck, and when he leans in, we exchange a passionate kiss.
“I’m going to miss that.”
“That’s right. Think about that when you leave for Greece in a few hours, and when you leave for college. You can’t get kisses like that in Texas.”
“I know. Levitron-Blair has a major presence in Austin. It just made sense for me to attend college there.”
“I agree. UT Austin is the best place for you.”
“Well that may be true but what about us?”
“We don’t tell each other stories about how college won’t change anything. It will.”
He jams his hands into the pockets of his khakis. “So, what do we do?”
I think about it for a moment. There’s no script that explains how to handle a transition like this. “We never forget.”
“I know I won’t,” he says. “I made a painting of you.”
“You did? You never mentioned it before.”
“Because it’s just for me.”
“What does it look like?”
“The way you looked, gliding down the grand staircase at Bedford Hills the night of the ball. You were enchanting. That’s how I will never forget.”
“The morning after the ball, when you showed me the text messages from your mom. That’s how I will never forget.”
I brush a loose lock of hair away from his eyes. “You made me do things I didn’t think I could. You helped me exhale when I didn’t know I was holding my breath. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Abigail Lillian Cooper. I’ll do anything for you.”
“You may regret that offer one day.”
“Never.”
“You’re the most persistent person I know.”
“How else would I have found out how incredible you are?”
My text message ring tone interrupts us. I glance at my phone.
MOM:
Where are you?
“It’s Mom. They’re looking for me.”
Christian pulls me into his arms. I savor the moment and don’t want it to end. When we break apart, he strokes my arms. “See you later this summer? I want to come visit you before I leave for Austin.”
“I would like that,” I say.
After Christian leaves, I can barely form an intelligent thought. I fan my face with my hands to stop the tears in their tracks. They ignore me. I receive a new text message. Callie says she’s rounding up Frances and wants to know where I am. I tell her I’m still at the gazebo. I text Mom back to let her know I’ll be on my way to the car in a few minutes.
Callie and Frances come into view and join me inside the gazebo. It’s quite cozy.
“You guys are still coming to the house afterward, right? We can all celebrate together before you go home. Christian just took off, the jet’s already on the tarmac. “
“I don’t think that’s going happen, Abbie,” Callie says.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “That was the plan.”
“The plan changed,” Frances quips.
“Why?”
Callie explains that she spoke to her father and learned that her mother is a functioning alcoholic who was unfaithful to her father throughout the marriage. “All three of us are leaving for Cannes tonight for the Film Festival. When it’s over, we’re taking Mom to a private clinic in Switzerland so she can get treatment without it being all over the tabloids.”
“Callie, I’m sorry to hear your mom’s sick. But I’m glad for you that your family is working through those problems. Are you still getting your own apartment when you move to New York or will you live in the dorms?”
“I still don’t know yet. At least we’ll be close to each other, only a two-hour drive away.”
“That’s a good thing. Why do you have to attend college in Chicago?” I ask Frances.
“Because it’s Northwestern,” she answers with her trademark attitude.
I want to remember us like this: young, carefree, and full of promise. We take a bunch of pictures with each other’s phones. That way, we’ll each have a piece of our final moments together, as eighteen-year-old high school graduates.
“This is it,” Callie says.
“There is this invention called a smartphone,” I tease. All three of us lean against the railing of the Gazebo, holding each other’s hands as if we could force time to stand still.
“Do you think Trevor will ever stop running?” Callie asks, staring off into the distance.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Do you think we’ll be best friends forever?” she asks.
“I hope so, Callie. I hope so.”
We hug each other, and then I watch my best friends walk off into their futures. I hope we can keep the promise that our lives will always be connected.
Epilogue
THE GIFT
Three months later
"You got a package in the mail,” Mom says as she rushes out the front door. “It’s on the kitchen table.”
I do an about face and return to the kitchen. On the table lies a package wrapped in thick, plain brown paper. My name is written neatly in block letters. There’s no return add
ress. I shiver, and it has nothing to do with the central air conditioning or the fact that I’m wearing a tank top and shorts.
I have a seat and open the box. I pull out a slab of something wrapped in aluminum foil. I peel away the foil to reveal stacks of cash tightly bound by duct tape. When I get over the initial shock, I can say with certainty the money amounts to fifty thousand dollars. I put it aside and notice a plain white envelope at the bottom of the box.
I open the envelope. Inside is a postcard. On the front is a generic image, a country road surrounded by lush, green vegetation. The back reads:
“Forgiveness is a virtue of the brave.”
—Indira Gandhi
You’re fearless.
Goosebumps appear all over my arms. I hope Trevor’s okay, wherever he is. As for forgiveness, only time will tell how fearless I am.
My cell phone rings, and I answer it. It’s Ty calling.
“Cooper, are you all packed? I have a feeling we’ll need multiple cars to transport all your stuff to campus.”
“Yeah. I’m mostly done with packing.”
“Are you okay? Don’t tell me you’re fine. I can feel that you’re not.”
“I’m okay, Ty. Just thinking about someone I once knew.”
“The past can be a dangerous place to visit, Cooper.”
“Speaking from experience?”
“Yes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What was the note that came with my birthday gift all about? You said happy birthday, my princess.”
“You know what it means, Cooper. I don’t need to explain it to you.”
After I hang up, I want to mull over his words, but that will have to wait. Ty insisted that I shouldn’t pay him back the money, that it was a gift. Well, now it can be a gift for someone else. I grab my purse and head out the front door. The scorching summer heat beats down on me, but I don’t mind. I hop in my car and head toward the Healing Hearts Foundation, a rape crisis center on Worcester Road in Framingham. I want to put a smile on their faces today with a fifty thousand dollar donation in memory of Sidney Bailey Shepard. I know exactly what she would say. She would tell me I’m a Ms. Goody, Goody who can’t help herself. And for the first time ever, she wouldn’t call me a hypocrite.
Game of Fear Page 23
