You tried to tell me, but all I heard was my pain. I wouldn’t believe you. Instead, I chose to destroy you.
I wake Sunday morning, thinking about Sophia, wondering how she’s dealing with everything we discovered in Brendan’s room. And whether I should be worried she’ll report it to Dr. Kendall. I know she covered for me and Ashton when we snuck out to the barn, and I didn’t think I needed to ask her to stay quiet after breaking into Brendan’s room, but I’m not really sure where her loyalties lie. Whether she is doing Dr. Kendall’s bidding just to get by, or if she believes she’s obligated to report back to her when someone poses a threat to their precious Blackwood. And after what we found, she may deem Brendan a threat.
Honestly, I’m hoping I can sway her to help me uncover what he’s planning to do with all that information. Sophia has a specialized skill set that could come in very handy. And despite Brendan’s claim that whoever is messing with me has advanced tech knowledge, I haven’t been able to conceive of a single reason Sophia would turn on me—and I’ve been thinking about it a lot. So maybe I can persuade her to be an ally. Brendan has a file on her too, after all … and I’m sure she’s just a little curious what’s inside.
“Is Sophia back from Chicago yet?” I ask Ashton at dinner that night.
She pauses to think. “I feel like I’ve seen her, but I don’t remember when or where.”
Lance glances at her curiously. “I thought you were … sober?” He hesitates, probably trying not to offend her or sound accusatory.
“I am,” she states definitively. “What I mean is, Sophia just kind of flitters around. One second, she’s there, and then she’s not.”
Lance and I exchange a look. Ashton sober, apparently, isn’t much different than her altered self.
I slide my chair back and stand.
“Where are you going?” Lance demands, like he has a right to know.
“My room. Okay with you?” I snap back. “You’re not my protector. You know that, right?”
“I am … sort of,” he argues weakly.
I laugh. “Uh, no. You’re not.”
“But we’re, like … family,” he rebuts.
“Or not.” I turn and walk away.
“You’re stuck with me for life!” Lance hollers after me.
I flash him a middle finger over my shoulder. Ashton’s laughter follows me out the door.
I still haven’t seen Brendan. He’s lurking in the shadows. Or behind his monitors. My eyes dart around as I weave through the Court, knowing he’s watching. But more importantly, wondering why.
“I have an idea,” Grant says to me over speakerphone while I’m sitting on the couch, removing Cherry Bomb red polish from my nails. “But if you’re right about the phones, then I’ll wait to tell you tomorrow.”
“What’s it about?” I wish he hadn’t said anything because now I need to know.
“Getting answers.”
I wait, thinking he’s going to continue—but that’s it. “That’s not much of a hint.”
“And asking questions,” Grant adds, like that should help.
“Still not.” I huff in frustration.
“Then I guess you’ll have to be patient.”
I throw the cotton ball in the trash with a groan. “I hate patience.”
He laughs. “I miss you too.”
“And that. Why can’t you just go to school here?” I know I sound like a petulant child, but I’m tired … of all of it. But mostly that I haven’t seen Grant all weekend.
“Or you could enroll at Printz-Lee,” he counters playfully.
I grumble, “That’s not how this sentencing thing works, unfortunately.”
“It could. We’ll appeal to the judge.” I know he’s teasing, but I’m really not in the mood to reciprocate his banter.
“Oh, Niall would love that.” I close the bottle of remover and wash my hands.
“My dad will write a letter on your behalf. He’s very persuasive.”
“Isn’t he an elementary school principal?”
“Still an educator. But he should probably meet you first. So how about at dinner when they come up in a couple weeks?”
I choke. Literally. On nothing but air.
“Lana? You alright?” Grant sounds concerned, not recognizing it was his words that got caught in my throat.
I slowly recover from my coughing fit. “Are you serious?”
“Yes. They’re bringing my things to move me into the dorms in a couple weeks,” he explains, his optimism unaffected by my what-the-fuck reaction. “And they want to meet you.”
“You told them about me?” I can’t even imagine how he described me. I’ve never been the girl guys take home to meet their parents. Come to think of it, I’ve never met anyone’s parents other than Tori’s … and Niall doesn’t count.
“Of course.”
“When?”
“Pretty much right after we met. You … left an impression.”
“I was ridiculous when we first met. I could barely speak around you.”
Grant chuckles fondly at the recollection. “You were adorable. Still are. I know it’s unexpected, but will you think about it?”
I close my eyes and scrunch my face, silently cursing. “Fine. I’ll meet your parents.”
“Thank you.” I can hear the smile in his voice, and somehow, that makes the torture a little more bearable.
“I should go. They’re about to kick us off with their nightly check-in.” I plop down on my bed, the phone in my hand.
“You know, now that you told me about Black—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “This is their phone, remember?”
“Right. Forgot that paranoia’s our friend.”
“Sadly.”
“Sophia!” I holler when I spot her in the Court the next morning.
But she disappears around a corner without looking back. I jog after her. It’s too fricken hot to be chasing after people today. Just as I catch sight of her again, my phone rings. When I discover who’s calling, I stop. My heart does as well.
“Mom? Everything okay?”
“Hi, Lana,” she greets me cheerily. “Are you busy?”
I peel my tank top from my sweaty skin, watching Sophia disappear on the other side of a garden inspired by Candy Land or Willy Wonka. Human-sized lollipops and gumdrops litter the grass in vibrant rainbow hues. “No. I’m free. How are you?” I stand in the shadow of a chocolate bar, seeking some relief from the blistering July sun. If I keep walking while on the phone, I know I’ll get lost, and will probably melt.
“You’ll be happy to know that I went to the doctor, and I’m on new medication. I already feel so much better and have a ton more energy. No migraines since I started taking them either.”
“That’s great.” That relentless knot of worry reserved specifically for my mother loosens slightly. “How’s everything else? Work okay? Did you pay the electric bill last week?”
She laughs like I’m being ridiculous. “Everything’s fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Easier said than done. For the last couple of years, stressing about my mother has felt like my life’s mission. Maybe she’s finally ready to take care of herself. Maybe.
“I wanted to let you know I’ll be seeing you this weekend,” she announces excitedly. “I’m driving up with Niall and Olivia on Saturday. We’re all having dinner together.”
“Wow, really?” I respond in shock. I guess I gave up on ever seeing anyone from Sherling until I was allowed to leave Blackwood. It feels like I’m living two totally separate lives.
Before I can stop myself, I ask, “Can I … bring someone?”
“Who? A boy?” She sounds hopeful.
I brace myself, knowing she’s been dying for this to happen. “His name’s Grant. I met him at work. And he’s … pretty great.”
“Omigod. I’ve been waiting so long. I’m so happy for you, Lana,” she says, practically choking with exuberance. “I was so afraid that you’d never
… that I might’ve ruined you. This is so exciting!”
I hold the phone away from my ear until her excitement returns to a normal volume. “Um, Mom, it’s just dinner. Let’s not get crazy.” Desperate to talk about anything else, I ask, “Have you seen Tori or Nina? I haven’t been allowed to talk to them since I’ve been here. I wanted them to know where I am.”
“Oh, no, I haven’t,” she says regretfully.
“They haven’t stopped by?” I ask, her answer striking me as odd.
“Not when I’ve been home. Were they supposed to?”
“Oh,” I breathe out, unable to keep the weight of disappointment from filtering through. But it feels even heavier than that. “I asked them to check on you while I was away.” I really thought my friends understood how important that was to me. I guess they didn’t.
“That’s sweet of you. But I’m much better. Olivia’s been helping me. You remember Olivia, don’t you?”
“Mrs. Harrison?” My tone doesn’t hide my surprise or confusion. “No, I’ve … never met her.”
“You were too young to remember. I used to take you over there when you were a baby. We … lost touch a while back.” I note the awkward hesitation. “She came by after you left and has been so kind.”
“That’s … good,” I reply, suspicious. It all seems a little convenient that she chose now to reconnect. I’m about to ask how exactly Mom knows the Harrisons, but when I look up from scuffing my shoe in the grass, I find Brendan standing in front of me. I glare back. “I have to go, but it’ll be good to see you.”
“You too. Do you need me to bring anything?”
My birth certificate, I want to say. “No. I think I’m good.”
“Bye, Lana.”
“Bye, Mom.”
It’s like we’re having a staring contest. Or Brendan’s trying to re-create one of the nightmares I had about him over the weekend. He’s as composed as ever, not affected by the heat or anything else.
“What do you want?” I ask, my voice frigid.
“You’re mad at me,” he says, stating an obvious fact. “Because of what I said about Ashton.”
“For so many reasons, but that’s one of them,” I bite back. “Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?”
He smirks like I amuse him. “I’m not avoiding you.” He takes a few steps closer and leans against a rubbery green gumdrop. “Did you tell Ashton what I said?”
“No. I’m not that cruel. She’s better off not knowing.” I continue to glower at him, my arms crossed tight. I fight to ignore the sweat trickling down my neck, pasting my hair to my damp skin. “You claim to love her, but you really have no idea how.”
“But you’re an expert, right? Because Mr. Integrity’s in your life?” His tone is mocking, and I want to shove his head through the gooey green gumdrop, not caring if it’s fake.
I lift my chin in defiance. “I don’t know. Maybe I suck at it too. But at least I’m honest with him.”
He chuckles, like I’m a child without a clue about how the world works. “Really? Completely one hundred percent honest?”
“I’m an open book, and he’s read all the pages.” I know I’m being completely juvenile, playing into his taunting, but he just … makes me want to scream!
Brendan laughs wickedly. “I doubt that. Have you told him how you feel about him? Have you actually said the words?”
My mouth seals shut.
His lips tilt into one of his cocky grins. “I didn’t think so.”
“This isn’t about me,” I retort, like I’m accusing him of something.
“Oh, but it is. It’s all about you. Haven’t you figured that out yet, Lana?”
“So I’ve been told,” I sneer, recalling the message I may have hallucinated in the woods. “But what are you talking about? Just tell me what you want, Brendan. Stop fucking around.”
“The truth. Same as you.” He winks.
I spread my arms open in an aggressive invitation. “So let’s talk. I’m ready when you are.”
His brows rise as if he’s just now recalling our agreement. “That’s right. You promised me five questions. That still stand?”
“Sure. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know, if you do the same.”
His pompous grin grows wider, revealing his brilliant white teeth. “I have nothing to hide.”
Liar. I can see it now. His tell. The indicator I’ve overlooked since I met him because he’s distracted me with his arrogant grin or wicked stare. I’ve been studying his face for the twitch of a lie. But it’s his hand that tells me everything. He flexes it again before concealing it in his pocket.
“Tomorrow?” I present it like a challenge.
“I’ll find you,” he promises, as if it’s a threat, before turning and walking down a corridor of squared-off hedges adorned with plastic fruit.
“Are you okay?” Grant asks when I enter the Quiet Room, drop my bag on the couch and begin pacing. “You look a little … angry.”
“I am,” I seethe, focusing on deep breaths to keep from exploding.
Oh, I wish I could punch something … no, I wish I could punch Brendan. His pretentious glower is stuck in my head. It’s all I can see. He thinks he can get away with anything because he sees all. But now I know what he’s hiding. Maybe not all of it, but enough to make me question his every move. Especially why he’s protecting Vic. And sacrificing me and Allie by doing so. On top of everything, Ashton’s in love with him!
“I hate him. I’m going to strangle him. And punch him. And kick him. Maybe even bite him. I’ve never done that before. But I’m sure it hurts.”
“Let me guess … Brendan?” Grant’s face is pinched with unease. “Did you talk to him?”
I grip the back of the couch, squeezing until my fingers leave indentations. “I just left him in the Court. We’re supposed to talk tomorrow.”
Grant’s eyes narrow. “About the five questions?”
“Yes.” I collapse on the other end of the couch, inviting the air-conditioning to cool my heated skin … and temperament.
“That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about last night. But it sounds like it’s already in motion.” He reaches to take hold of my hand and bends to kiss my palm. And my elevated heartrate skips a beat. “Are you feeling calmer?”
I release the frustrated air from my lungs and nod, then connect with his sky-blue eyes. “That’s what you were talking about last night?”
“Yeah.” Grant reaches for my waist and slides me toward him until I’m between his legs.
He wraps his cool arms around me. I sink into him with my back against his chest, the anger seeping into oblivion.
I tilt my head to the side to look at him. “Don’t you think it’s weird that the day after you hinted about it on the phone, he approaches me in the Court and offers to answer my questions?”
“Maybe,” Grant says slowly, contemplating it. “Depends on how it came about. You already promised to answer the questions. It could be a coincidence. I didn’t mention it specifically last night.”
“But you were kind of obvious. I was just too distracted to pick up on it. Brendan would’ve caught it if he was listening.”
“So we have to be even more careful what we say on the phone?”
My attention’s automatically drawn to the corners of the room, paranoia rearing its compulsive head. “This whole thing is making me lose my mind.” I run my fingers through my hair, pulling at the roots in frustration.
Grant leans down, his voice a rumble in my ear. “He’s messing with your head. And after what you found, it’s easy to feel like he’s everywhere.”
He kisses my cheek and then brushes another along the heated skin of my neck and bare shoulder. The feel of his mouth on my body sedates me instantly—better than any of Jasmine’s yoga and meditation classes. My skin tingles, and my breaths draw slowly across my lips.
He traces a finger up my arm, inciting goose bumps. “You can ask any five questions, right?”
I nod, melting against him dreamily.
“I have some ideas.”
I twist in his arms and lean up toward his mouth. “Or … you could just kiss me and make it all go away.”
“It’s not going away. But if it’ll help …” Grant bends to meet my lips, brushing them gently, capturing my breath. I press firmer, needing more. He murmurs softly, “Better?”
My eyes remain closed. I need a second longer to recover. “Mmm.”
“I created a chart,” he announces, scooting out to pick up his bag, popping my bliss bubble.
I flop back against the couch, deflated, wishing for much more than the single kiss.
Grant pulls out a folded piece of art paper and flattens it on the coffee table. One side notes each person with bullets stating what we know about them, listed in chronological order. I flip it over and find a color-coded family tree.
“Wow, you’re taking this sleuthing thing to a whole other level,” I admire. “Seriously, I can’t believe you did this.”
“It’s the only way I could make sense of it,” he explains and begins to point out where the holes are in each person’s bio.
“What do we do now?” I ask, tracing the arrows between each of the players involved.
“We should start with the night you were arrested,” he suggests, picking up a pencil to begin recording the details.
I shift so I’m angled toward him. “You do think there’s a connection between that night and what’s been happening here?”
“You were right. There are too many coincidences. And the one that keeps bothering me is that there were only five people on campus when you arrived. And four of you have Niall as a lawyer.”
“What about Sophia? You can’t possibly think she’s involved,” I scoff like it’s insane to even consider her.
“I … don’t know. But I’m not erasing her just yet. She has access to the security cameras, phones, your room and even your school records if she wanted.”
I pause. “I know. I’ve been thinking about that too, but I can’t conceive of a single motive. I didn’t know her before coming here. It doesn’t make sense for her to hate me.”
The Cursed Series, Parts 3 & 4: Now We Know/What They Knew Page 10