by AnonYMous
Me: Not my main concern. More scared of rats, live wires, dead bodies . . .
Katy just laughed and pulled me through the doors. We went down some stairs and a beautiful smell hit me. Chemicals! It was GORGEOUS down there. There’s a fully equipped lab. Something simmered and steamed and hissed pleasantly on a burner. Tubes and beakers and vials and jars and all kinds of equipment lined the shelves and was scattered on old lab tables.
Okay, and I admit it. An even prettier sight was Drew and Warren, both of them in lab coats, hair pulled back by the goggles they’d pushed above their foreheads. They were leaning over the simmering brew, looking like they knew exactly what the hell they were doing. To a girl who loves chemistry, there’s nothing hotter.
Drew smiled at me, but it was Warren who met my gaze and, with a slight jerk of his head, beckoned me over. I don’t know why, maybe it was because I finally felt like I wasn’t so out of my element, but I walked right up to him and asked him what he was working on.
When he answered, the room spun. I can’t believe I’m going to write this. I should definitely get a lock for this thing.
Drugs. Warren was working on making crystal meth. That’s what he said.
And I laughed because I was sure he was joking, but he wasn’t. Katy started explaining what they do, how they sell to local dealers, and how the area around Prescott is kind of depressed and has a lot of addicts, so it’s easy money. Warren said he needed the cash to get by, and it sounds like he’s the real talent. Katy and Drew make the sales and manage distribution. They explained it to me like it was no big deal. Like it’s completely normal to do something so illegal. Like it’s just a little side business like making decorative wreaths for Etsy.
It was so surreal. The more they talked, the more I felt like I was dreaming or I was the butt of a terrible joke. As they explained, my ears started ringing and I couldn’t breathe. And I didn’t say good-bye or anything. I just ran out of the building and all the way back to my dorm.
Diary, I need to hide you now.
September 14 again, later
I could be imagining it, but I swear Emily knows. I keep catching her looking at me like she’s suspicious or something. And again she warned me to stay away from Drew. This time she threw Katy’s name in there too. Do you think she knows what the Science Club is up to? I wonder if I should tell her? I mean, of course I shouldn’t. I don’t want to get Warren or any of the Science Club in trouble, but this is just . . . too much. Telling her would be a relief. Someone to share the load, so to speak.
I guess I’m telling this diary, though. It can be the secret keeper for me, since obviously telling someone is out of the question. And I’ll definitely have a lot to tell if these first few weeks here are any indication. Sheesh. What a strange place Prescott is.
September 15
I tried to avoid Warren when I saw him in the hallway but he wouldn’t let me. He asked if we could talk and then pulled me into an empty classroom.
Warren: Are you okay?
Me: How could I be?
Warren: Look, I know it’s a lot to handle, but it’s not what you’re thinking. It’s really not that bad at all.
Me: Oh really? What’s not bad about making drugs to sell to the poor addicts in town?
Warren, looking at me like I’m adorable for having a conscience: They’d do it anyway, Bailey. At least if they get it from us, it’s safe. We’re not like those guys that throw poisonous fillers in to make more money and end up getting their clients killed.
Me: Clients? Is that what you call them?
Warren: It’s business, so yes. But not like you see on TV, okay? No cartels, no one who’s going to shoot your kneecaps or something for breaking a deal. No one is dissolving dead bodies in bathtubs. We just provide a product and make a sale.
Me: With people buying who are slowly killing themselves.
Warren, with a huge, impatient sigh: If someone wants to eat burgers and fries for every meal and they die of a heart attack, it’s not the manager at McDonald’s who is to blame, is it?
I still felt uneasy, but I had to concede that point. Then Warren started talking about how much he can use the money. I get the impression his parents aren’t in the picture anymore, but he didn’t seem to want to explain why, just that they don’t help him financially. And Princeton is going to be incredibly expensive. But he hopes he can eventually become a scientist who could find a cure for addiction. I’m not sure if it’s hypocritical or just poetic that that’s what he wants to work for, but I assured him I won’t tell anyone about the Club.
He asked me if I’d come by the lab again. Apparently they’re short one chemist after a Science Club member graduated last year, and Warren can’t do it all.
I told him I’d think about it, but how can I even consider this?
September 16
I got to talk to Bex! Turns out Isa got her a phone so that she can call home, and she called me, too! She sounds super happy at Campbell. It also sounds like she’s popular. She rambled on about all the kids she’s friends with. Doesn’t surprise me. Bex is the opposite of me in a lot of ways. She’s really extroverted, athletic (she’s going to be playing soccer for Campbell’s junior girls team), and even though she’s ten and should be kind of awkward, she’s not at all. I got all the awkwardness, I guess. But Bex never makes straight As like me, so I’m fine with the way the current flowed in the gene pool.
She asked how I’m doing, and I told her about Emily, and I told her there are some cute boys in my class. Of course I didn’t mention the Science Club. There are some things that even Bex can’t know about me, and I wouldn’t want her to know this. She’d be disappointed. Or worried. Or both. That’s the last thing either of us needs.
Before we hung up, Bex told me she wishes she could tell Mom about Campbell. I told her to tell Mom anyway. Is it silly to think she listens? Probably. Probably clichéd, too. I don’t think there’s anything about Prescott I want to tell Mom yet, but I did put her picture in this journal. There’s a little pocket in the inside of the back cover where I can keep it safe and sound.
Maybe, in a way, I’m am telling her things.
September 17
Warren came to my room. I opened the door and he was smiling in that reserved way of his, and he asked if he could show me something. Super weird—Emily, who was doing homework, barely even looked at Warren. He didn’t say anything to her, either. It was like they were trying really hard not to notice the other. What is up with that?
I went with him, even though I still had homework to do. The members of the Science Club have been a little cold to me since I ran out of their lab the other night, and I wanted to at least prove to them that I’m not going to rat them out, even if I didn’t join them.
Neither of us was in uniform, since classes were over. I was in jeans and a comfy tee. Warren was wearing his long overcoat, even though it wasn’t that chilly out. I asked him why he always wears it. He said it belonged to his brother but didn’t say any more. I didn’t press. I barely know him but I can tell talking about his family is off-limits.
It didn’t take me long to figure out that Warren was leading me to the lab. When I hesitated, it was as if he read my mind. Not breaking eye contact once, he told me there was nothing to be afraid of. The rest of the Science Club wouldn’t even know I was there. That the decision was completely up to me and there was no harm in just coming in and learning.
Going with him wasn’t a commitment. It was just . . . learning. And I thought that maybe it could help me decide.
In the lab there’s a station for every step of the process, so that they can have multiple batches cooking at once. He said he makes it a point to stop by every few hours during the day, and that for the most part, nothing is running at night. Apparently the old building has most of the equipment they needed. It’s the ingredients they get elsewhere. Whatever money is left after reinvesting in ingredients, that’s what the Science Club gets to keep, and apparently there’s
generally a lot left over. He explained a bit about the group dynamics, how they absolutely trust each other, always, 100 percent, and are completely loyal and dedicated to each other. Warren gets the biggest cut, since he’s the brains of the operation and has the biggest job. Drew and Katy make the deals, handle the logistics, things like that. That Warren makes a lot of money became evident the more he talked. Underneath that dingy overcoat, everything he wears is designer. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who actually cares about brand names, but then, if he’s making as much as he intimated, I can’t blame him for buying the best. Goodness knows my first purchase would be better clothes.
As Warren explained the chemicals, the reactions, and the methods to what he was doing at each station, I realized something: This is just chemistry. All of it. I could almost forget what we were making, and what it was meant to do, when we were talking about formulas and ratios. It’s actually fascinating. The things I’d done for Miss Beverly were like this, but making meth is even more involved. More nuanced, even. Warren talked about how he’s constantly coming up with new ways to produce it more efficiently or more cleanly, and I could feel myself getting excited too. His passion was contagious, and it was the same passion as mine. This is what I like to do. It’s what I want to do with my life, really. I want to make the world a better place, one ion at a time.
I started asking questions, and Warren was really eager to talk about everything. And he actually wanted my opinions. We started bouncing ideas off each other. Warren almost became a different person. Instead of reserved and stoic, he became animated and witty. We joked, and laughed, and it felt so good to have someone who had the same type of brain that I do. I honestly forgot about the final product until I was back here, in my room.
As I’m writing I’m realizing something, though . . . Warren never pressured me to join the Science Club. Not once the whole night. In fact, he didn’t even bring up me joining. I have to admit, the money would be nice, but more importantly, the group itself would welcome me in. It’s not just that the Science Club is so mysterious and glamourous, it’s that they clearly look out for one another. Their loyalty is fierce.
Loyalty is something I need, I think. After Mom’s death, some friends fled from my grief, some stuck around for a while but ultimately couldn’t handle it; even my own father abandoned me. Knowing that this group wouldn’t do that, even if the reason has to be kept a secret, is so tempting.
Maybe it wouldn’t have to be permanent, either. Maybe I can do this, just for a while, just until they find someone else. Long enough to get to know Warren some more, and maybe earn a spot in their tight-knit circle. Maybe I can even give Warren some advice on how to perfect the product, without actually doing it myself. Maybe this might work.
September 20
At breakfast, I asked Emily about Warren. Why she doesn’t seem to like him. She shrugged and said he was just kind of a jerk. I don’t know what’s up with this school and everyone acting like everything’s a big secret.
I had lunch with Emily, but Katy brought over a wrapped brownie for me. It had a note attached:
(Katy’s note, taped to the diary page, in Katy’s girly handwriting):
Drew’s driving into Wiltshire tonight. Want to go with and shop? I need new shoes. Herschell Hall, 6 p.m.
Shh, don’t tell.
I doubt Katy needs new shoes. Not in the same way I need new shoes. And I have no money to spend, but this isn’t about shopping. And it’s a secret.
Looks like I’ve got secrets too.
September 20, again.
I’m back from shopping with Katy and Drew, and oh my God, you should see the shopping bags sitting here. I can’t even believe how many there are and what stores they’re from. I feel like I’m a movie star or something.
At Prescott there are specific rules to going off campus. Only upperclassmen are allowed to, and you have to be back before curfew. You can’t spend the night elsewhere, and you cannot go to what our rule book calls “unsavory establishments.” I’m assuming that means bars. It could mean brothels and strip clubs too. Ha. I guess it’s kind of a catch-all rule for that purpose. Very clever.
So Drew’s car. I mean, I have to say something about it. I don’t like to think of myself as a shallow, materialistic person, but maybe that’s just because I’ve never had a car like this. It’s nicer than Isa’s, even. Drew said his dad bought it for him for his birthday last year. That’s just amazing. I think I got a gift card to Bath & Body Works. Anyway, it’s this dark silver sporty thing. Hardly a backseat, but I didn’t mind. It seriously sounded like a race car as we roared down the country roads we had to take to get into town.
Drew dropped us off at the mall. When I asked Katy if he didn’t want to shop with us girls, she said that he had business to take care of. I know, of course, what that meant. Drew was going to check in with the dealers, maybe even drop off the, um, product. I hadn’t thought of that. If he’d been pulled over for speeding and the car had been searched . . . I got kind of sick thinking about it, but . . . I felt a bit thrilled at the idea. Like we’d gotten away with something. I asked Katy if they are afraid of getting into trouble. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it in public. She whispered and looked around nervously as she answered, but she said they aren’t. That between her father being a lawyer and Drew’s dad owning a good chunk of the town, they figure they’d get a slap on the wrist at most.
Then she bought me a pair of flats like hers. When I protested, she held up her hand and said she likes to buy her friends things. She also noted, somehow not unkindly, that I could use a better pair. And she wouldn’t hear of me trying to pay her back. She repeated that at four different stores, big department stores that I usually don’t even go into. I have a new wool coat, a makeup palette specifically matched to me from a glitzy-looking makeup counter, some hair products that Katy promised would make my frizzy hair smooth, and some new sweaters for our days out of uniform. Every time, Katy took out a credit card that had her name on it. She never minds paying for quality, she said. But I’m not sure if she really meant herself or her father. Who pays the credit card bill?
We met Drew outside one of the department stores. Katy asked if he’d been successful, which he answered by showing her a huge wad of cash. He said we should go eat somewhere fancy, so we did.
He chose a place with a French name, which turns out is owned by his family. The staff called him “Mr. Richmond” the whole time and kept bringing us complimentary appetizers and glasses of wine. Real wine, not like the sugary cheap stuff my friends from home would get if their older siblings were in a good enough mood to buy for us. I find it kind of hilarious that they were complimentary, since the whole meal was on the house, or on Drew’s house, I guess. I had thought his father owned only a few fast-food chains, but Drew explained that they’d bought some nice restaurants all around the state as well.
They did ask me to join the Science Club again. In a way. Katy and Drew talked about the advantages to having disposable income and not ever having to ask their parents for money. And of course it’s good to have nice things: brand names, high-end makeup, trendy clothes. I had to agree. If I do this with them, I’d never have to ask Dad (or worse, Isa) for anything. I might even be able to buy stuff for Bex. And if what Katy said is true, I won’t have to worry about getting into trouble. I can’t afford to have a record if I want into Harvard.
It’s no problem, Drew said when I asked about getting into trouble again. There’s no way their families would ever let them get a record. Drew and Katy both have their eyes on Yale. They can’t afford trouble either, and with Warren wanting to get into Princeton, it has to be the same with him.
By the time we got back to Prescott, I was feeling much better about the Science Club. I asked them when the next meeting is. Katy and Drew seemed incredibly happy that I was interested.
Emily looked at my (Katy’s) purchases and seemed curious. I told her I’d gone shopping with Katy Ashton and he
r eyes almost bugged out of her head. She told me to be careful around Katy. She said Katy only seems nice. I think Emily’s just jealous, honestly. The more I hang out with Katy, the more I like her. But I have to admit, I’m afraid she won’t like me back. I know she bought me all this stuff, but I feel like I have to impress her somehow, if that makes sense. Drew, too, although now that I’ve talked to Warren more, I think Warren is definitely the cuter one. Maybe not as classically handsome, but definitely smarter and more intriguing. There seem to be a lot of Drews around here, but there’s clearly only one Warren.
September 22
Another Friday night with no invite to a party, but that’s okay. I know it’s just because there aren’t any parties, at least any I’d want to go to. I heard Drew tell Katy in chemistry that they need to do a lot of work this weekend, so I know they’re at the lab. I could probably join them, but I’m still not sure I want to. Plus I kind of feel like I haven’t fully been accepted yet. I don’t know how or when I will be, but I’m almost 100 percent sure I’ll have to prove myself. Like an initiation or blood oath or something. Or maybe I’ve seen one too many mob films. Still, I have no doubt that they are serious about secrecy and loyalty, so with all I know, they have to make sure I’m not going to rat.
Emily and I skipped the dining hall and ordered a pizza and did our movie thing again. She has a whole collection of DVDs. She keeps them in one of those old-school flip albums like my dad has to store his CDs. She organizes them by director, not alphabetically or even by genre. I let her choose tonight. She decided on a movie called High Fidelity, which I’d never seen before, but I can see why she likes it. The main character reminded me of her a little because he was so into music, but in this cool way, like he could recall the history of the songs he liked and random trivia about musicians. Emily is like that with movies.