A deep chuckle lifted his shoulders. “Chop chop. Unless you want your ex to win.”
Okay, that got me going. I pushed him to the governor’s office, weaving around tour groups and people who worked there. The capitol was always busy when Congress was in session.
There wasn’t anything at the governor’s office, but we turned down a hallway.
“What’s down here?” Emerick asked.
“The treasury.” I kept pushing him but stopped as the idea hit my mind. “The Blue Room.”
“What?”
As fast as I could without massacring us on the marble floor, I ran him to the big wooden doors at the end of the hall. We skidded to a stop, and I backed him in through the doors. We entered the gallery. There were pictures from the latest construction project going on downtown. A big company had decided to headquarter in OKC.
But I wheeled him to the adjoining room, with walls painted blue, floor to ceiling. I rested my hands on the handles and took it in—all the leather chairs, the fireplace, the beautiful western paintings.
“Who named this?” Emerick asked. “They run out of rich white dudes to celebrate?”
I snorted. “Good point.” But then I remembered that my dad was just another “rich white dude” to Emerick and that I was just another rich white dude’s daughter.
I took the packet to try and cover my frown.
“What’s the next clue?” Emerick asked, blissfully oblivious to my sinking gut.
Steadying my breath, I read, “‘This is old news.’ Well, that’s easy. The press room.”
Emerick shifted in his seat. “There’s a newsroom here?”
I nodded, forgetting he hadn’t been here before. “Yeah, there are a few newspapers that have reporters working here.”
He nodded, and that was the end of that.
After we took a quick picture, I pushed him toward the press room, and we took another selfie in front of the sign.
Our next clue said we needed to go house hunting.
“Easy,” Emerick scoffed. “We just need to go see the House of Representatives, right?”
He really was good at this. I nodded. “But we can’t go right to the chamber. We probably have to go to the public entrance.”
Back onto the elevator. Another trip down a marble hallway. And then we were overlooking a room filled with men and women mingling. I recognized some of them from Dad’s campaign functions.
Emerick and I snapped a quick selfie, then rushed out to find the next clue. Do they really keep it 100?
“Lame,” Emerick said. “That has to be the Senate, right?”
“Yeah. Surely.”
“What’s Shirley got to do with it?” he asked, and I cracked up laughing.
“Airplane? Nice.”
After going to the Senate’s side, we mulled over the next clue. What do fencers say?
“What do you think?” I asked Emerick.
“I mean, in the movies, they always say, ‘En garde!’ Do you think we need to go back by the security guards?”
My jaw dropped. “No. You know what’s on top of the capitol, right?”
“Um, an Indian?”
“Native American,” I corrected, “and it’s a statue called ‘The Guardian.’ That has to be it.”
Emerick chuckled. “Have fun getting up there.”
I snorted. “Did you miss the replica right where we came in?”
“You’re wasting time yakking!” he said. “Where’s the go button on this thing?”
Fighting a smile, I pushed him to the statue, and we took a selfie in front of it.
An older woman wearing a visor and a fanny pack grinned at us. “You two are such a cute couple.”
Emerick and I looked at each other.
“Would you like me to take a picture?” she offered.
Before I could correct her and tell her Emerick and I were the last two people who could be dating, she reached for my phone. Not one to argue with a grandma, I handed it over.
I knelt down, and Emerick put his arm around my shoulders. The contact sent fire down my skin, and I tried to smile, even though my stomach was bouncing up and down on my small intestine. And the way he smelled...
“Here you go,” the woman said, and Emerick moved his arm.
The spell was lifted just as quickly as it had started, and I was left dazed, trying to make sense of what had just happened. But we didn’t have time for that. One clue left.
I read from the paper. “‘You figured this out. You are the best.’”
I looked around and saw Trey and his partner taking a selfie in front of the statue.
“Hurry!” I said to Emerick. “Think. What is it?”
His eyes landed on the supreme court. The best.
I glanced over at Trey, and he followed my eyes.
“Let’s go!” I yelled and started pushing Emerick.
I might have had a guy in a wheelchair for a partner, but Trey had a girl in a dress and high-heeled boots. Emerick and I were so winning.
I dropped my phone in Emerick’s lap. “Get the camera ready!”
He swiped the screen up. “Ready!”
In the most epic maneuver I’d probably ever make, I spun Emerick around and grinned for a selfie. “Take it!”
Emerick’s thumb pressed down on the button, rapid firing a bunch of pictures. We’d gotten it. Before Trey and his partner.
I slowed him to an uneasy stop and dropped to the floor, panting, happier than ever that I’d worn my Sperry’s.
Emerick reached his fist out, and I tapped it with my own, grinning.
Trey walked over with his partner. “What’s your time stamp say?”
Emerick handed me my phone, and I checked the first of nearly fifty pictures. “Eleven twelve.”
He glanced down at his picture, and a curse word slipped through his teeth. “Eleven thirteen.”
Trey cussing? He’d always made negative comments about kids who went around school using bad words. And now he was looking at Emerick and me with an openly disdainful stare. His jaw moved like he was about to say something, but then his lips curled up into the least smiling smile I’d ever seen.
He extended his hand. “Good job.”
Emerick reached his hand out, but Trey ignored it. “I was talking to Nora.”
Fifteen
Emerick
I couldn’t see Nora’s face, but I felt my chair move under me and watched Trey’s jaw drop as Nora wheeled me away from him.
She started muttering. “Dirty...rotten...scum bag...”
And despite myself, I laughed. “That’s the best you can do?”
She stopped and came to stand in front of me with her arms folded. “What?”
I looked up at her. “Come on. There has to be a good cuss word or a bad name in there somewhere.”
She tucked a strand of blond hair behind her ear, showing a pearl earring. “I don’t cuss.”
“Like ever?” I gave her a yeah-right look. I could think of at least five expletives for that asshat off the top of my head, and another fifteen if she gave me some time.
She shook her head. “Of course not. I have younger siblings, so I have to be a good example. And I’m the student body president. Cussing doesn’t exactly go with the position.”
Yeah, I’d expected the whole class president thing, but siblings? I thought of her two younger sisters coming to the hospital with her and found myself smiling like an idiot. So Nora didn’t just do things to make herself look good. And the whole feisty, not-cussing thing was cute as hell.
But I’d do well to remember who she was here. A well-respected politician’s daughter. And me... I didn’t want to think about it.
She went back to stand behind my wheelchair. “Let’s go find Mr. Roberts.”
We went to the elevator and down to the first floor to find Mr. Roberts in front of the gift shop. After checking each of our selfies and congratulating us, he said we should go to the fifth floor and check out the Senator�
�s visitor gallery.
Which we did. And it only took about fifteen minutes. And the ridiculousness of the whole situation hit me. Here I was, in this our state’s capitol, with the daughter of Oklahoma’s future governor, and we were looking at stuff on the visitor’s packet?
“Come on,” I said, “there has to be something better to do here. A secret passageway or something.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “This isn’t Hogwarts.”
But I knew weird shit went down in politics. “There has to be something.”
Her eyebrows came together over her dainty nose. “Well. I can show you the guts.”
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
She went back to the handles of my wheelchair and wheeled me to a service elevator. We rode to the basement, and she turned down a deserted hallway.
She started whispering, probably so her voice wouldn’t echo off all the marble down here. “My sister Amie and I came down here during one of Dad’s press conferences. Mom had her hands full, and we kind of snuck off.” Even now, she looked a little guilty. “But they just told me to watch Amie, so I wanted to do something different.”
“What do you mean?” I twisted to look at her, but she kept her eyes straight forward.
I thought she wouldn’t reply, but finally, she said, “Off the record? It’s not easy being Mom and Dad’s built-in babysitter. I never get to think of me first or what might be fun to do, just what I need to do.”
Who would have thought I’d be in the capitol building relating to Little Miss Perfect? “I get what you mean.”
A small breath blew out her nose. “You have younger siblings?”
“No,” I said, “but I have a mom.”
“What do you mean?” I could practically feel her frown on the back of my neck.
“My dad...well, he isn’t around.”
“Like he left?” She sounded saddened by the thought.
And she was the first person who acted like I deserved any sympathy. Like I shouldn’t just move on with my life and forget about the fact that my dad was probably being violated every day, that my mom cried herself to sleep on her brother’s couch every night, that we both had to work ridiculous hours to pay off the credit cards Dad took out in her name because his credit was shit.
So I told her. “He’s in jail. For at least ten years. Which means my mom will need me for at least that long.”
The wheelchair slowed, and I felt Nora’s hand on my shoulder. It seemed so small compared to my frame, but it had a huge effect, sending warmth from her fingertips all the way down to my toes. How could a simple touch through my leather jacket affect me more than Lacey-call-me-yours had with her entire busty chest pressed against me?
But Nora started talking again, taking me out of my thoughts. “I get what you mean. I mean, I don’t; my dad’s still around, but he’s gone all the time. We hardly ever see him. Sometimes I feel like my mom’s a single mom to all five of us. There’s not enough of her to go around.”
Something Nora said, about her mom, about her sacrifice—it sounded familiar. And it felt like a lightning bolt ripping through me.
Could Nora be ThePerfectStranger?
I shook the thought. She couldn’t be. ThePerfectStranger wouldn’t have looked at me the way Nora did that day Mr. Roberts said we were partners.
She came to a stop in front of a metal door painted the same color as the walls. “This is it.” Like a real-life Nancy Drew, she stepped forward and cracked the door open, pressing her eye to the gap.
Her entire body stiffened, hyper alert.
“What’s going on?” I whispered.
She jerked her head back and shut the door. Without speaking, she went to the back of my wheelchair and started walking us briskly away.
My heart hammered, sending adrenaline through my veins. “Was there a cop?”
She let out a quiet bark of laughter. “No.”
“What was it?”
She kept walking, the walls moving past us much faster than before.
“What was it?” I repeated, my nerves stringing tight. If we were going to get in trouble, I had a right to know what was going down.
But she ignored me, pushing away.
I put my hands on the wheels and held on tight, almost sending myself toppling over.
She shrieked, trying to keep me upright. “What the hell was that?”
I waited for her to come look at me before folding my arms over my chest. “So you can cuss.”
Nora didn’t just look mad; she looked livid. “You want to know what’s going on?” she hissed. “I just saw my dad making out with a woman who was not my mom.”
My jaw went slack, just as useless as my mind, which wasn’t coming up with anything to say right now.
“Happy now?” she asked. “Or would you like to hear more? Maybe how he had her skirt hiked up and—”
“No, no, no,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
She looked over her shoulder, tears building in her eyes. But then she nodded, and her face got all perfect again. Like nothing was wrong. If there wouldn’t have been a pool of liquid along her bottom lash, I might have believed her act.
Without another word, she went back behind me and started pushing. It was the most awkward ride to a gift shop I’d ever had before, and that included the time Dad took seven-year-old me along to be the distraction while he robbed the one at the Oklahoma City Zoo.
Nora didn’t talk to me the rest of the field trip, not when Mr. Roberts congratulated us in front of the entire class, not when we got back to the school, not when I told her I’d text her about our next assignment. But then when we got off the bus, she whispered to me, “Don’t you dare tell anyone.”
And then she left me to call on Wolf to help me get back into the building.
As Wolf wheeled me over the rough parking lot, all I could think was, fine. Fine.
If Nora wanted to go back to ignoring me, she could. It didn’t affect me. Not really. We could do our homework assignments separately, go back to pretending each other didn’t exist. Fine.
But somehow, I knew it wasn’t. Because there was a chance Nora was ThePerfectStranger, and everything I’d felt for Stranger would be everything I’d felt about Nora. The real Nora—the depths of herself she didn’t show anyone else. And I knew, deep down, like I knew my dad would eventually end up in jail, I knew Nora wouldn’t want a thing to do with me once she found out who I was.
I waited all evening for an email from ThePerfectStranger, and right at nine, it came.
From: ThePerfectStranger
To: ADAM
Adam, are you up? I need your advice.
From: ADAM
To: ThePerfectStranger
Want to use Google chat?
A message popped up in the bottom corner of my screen.
ThePerfectStranger: Hey
ADAM: Hey Stranger
ADAM: What’s up?
ThePerfectStranger: Oh, you know, the sky is falling down and all that.
ADAM: Hard day, Chicken Little?
ThePerfectStranger: I almost forgot that movie! I need to show it to my younger sisters.
ADAM: You’re getting off topic.
ThePerfectStranger: Sorry. It’s weird to be messaging you, you know?
ADAM: Yeah. It is. It makes you seem more real.
ThePerfectStranger: Exactly.
ADAM: So... Wanna talk about it?
ThePerfectStranger: I mean, yeah. That’s kind of why I messaged you.
I didn’t know what to say to that, so I waited, and eventually her bubble popped up again like she was typing.
ThePerfectStranger: So, I saw something today that could destroy my family and really hurt my dad’s career.
My fingers shook as I typed out the next message.
ADAM: What did you see?
And then I prayed for literally the first time in my life, begging some omnipotent, invisible superhero to swoop down and change the words that were about to flash across m
y screen. Please don’t say you saw your dad cheating. Please don’t say it.
ThePerfectStranger: I saw my dad kissing someone who was not my mom.
I pushed my computer back off my lap and sat on the edge of my bed with my head in my hands.
Nora was ThePerfectStranger.
How hadn’t I seen it before? The goodie-goodie who does everything right, complaining about family stuff. Begging for advice anonymously because she wouldn’t dare hurt her perfect image. Of course it was Nora.
But part of me wanted to hold on just a little longer to this person I’d built up in my mind.
ADAM: Does anyone else know about it?
ThePerfectStranger: You mean other than my dad and that bimbo?
ADAM: Yeah, other than them.
ThePerfectStranger: My partner on this class project knows.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. This couldn’t be happening. Out of the thousand people we had in our high school, Nora Wilson was ThePerfectStranger? And she had no idea who I was...
ADAM: Could you talk to your partner about it? Get his take?
ThePerfectStranger: He’s not exactly the guy you go to for advice on family stuff.
My chest tightened, and I scratched at the spot right over my sternum.
ADAM: What do you mean?
ThePerfectStranger: He’s just...not like you.
ADAM: ???
ThePerfectStranger: I guess, if I wanted advice on how to hot-wire a car, he’s the guy I’d go to, you know? If I told him about my daddy issues, he’d just laugh in my face.
God, I’d been the biggest idiot, pining away over this “stranger.” She only saw me as a good-for-nothing bad boy, just like everyone else. Even though I’d lain in the hospital with a shattered leg working on that stupid project, she still thought of me as no better than the gum under her shoe. But I’d have to reply, or she’d know it was me, and I wasn’t risking my diploma over Nora Wilson.
ADAM: I think this is above my pay grade. Maybe talk to Mrs. Arthur about it.
She might have replied. She might not have. I wouldn’t know, because I slammed my computer screen closed and laid down.
I threw my arm over my eyes, but all I could see were Nora’s words etched into my mind.
Dear Adam (The Pen Pal Romance Series) Page 9