Scammed

by Kristen Simmons

  Grayson leads with a proud kind of dignity, his chin high, his shoulders square. Henry’s blushing, and it’s clear he’s trying not to laugh, but his feet are right on the beat.

  They look graceful. Like they belong in the movies.

  Like they belong together.

  Dr. O said Grayson liked me, that Caleb and I had to stop being together to make him comfortable, but he was wrong. Grayson might have wanted me because I was safe and familiar, but by the way he’s holding onto Henry, with everyone watching, it’s clear who he really belongs with.

  Dr. O misjudged that one. And I went along with it because my position here depended on it.

  It makes me wonder what else I’ve missed.

  It takes a moment for me to realize the music’s stopped, and everyone but Geri has begun to clap. She’s stalking toward me, eyes like fire, and juts a hand my direction.

  “I take it you scared off my partner,” she mutters.

  I am stiff as a board realizing what she intends.

  “I’ll lead.” She grabs my hand and jerks me forward. I’m taller than her by a lot, but she doesn’t seem to care. It’s not like I know how to lead the waltz, anyway.

  My mind is still reeling as the music starts. She smiles, and through her gritted teeth, says, “Step on my feet and you’re dead.”

  I look down, trying to keep focused on the present. On this class. On Geri’s small, cold hand in mine, and the way she keeps pinching my waist when I step out of time.

  Not on Margot, or Caleb, or if there’s any truth behind their warning about Dr. O.

  Grayson watches me, his gaze like burning coals, and when the dance ends, pitiful applause fills the room.

  I’m out the door before Belk awards the winners the platinum pig. I don’t have to stick around to see who won.

  * * *

  BACK IN MY room, I run an online search for Myra Fenrir.

  If I’d looked into her after I’d started at The Loft, I would have known something was suspicious. Everyone has some kind of online footprint—everyone but the students at Vale Hall. Even Susan Griffin has the Pop Store article about the hit-and-run accident and her supposed affair with Matthew Sterling, and her death was covered up by politicians.

  But Myra Fenrir is a ghost. She has no listed number. No address. No social media pages or links to a school. Nada.

  Margot Patel isn’t any better. When she was kicked out, Dr. O had her erased. Wiped off the internet. I don’t know if she had a Social Security number, or if she was able to get back into high school. If she had family, or anyone to take her in. When she left Vale Hall, she lost everything.

  Her home and friends. A scholarship to college. Her identity.

  If I were her, I’d be pissed. Maybe pissed enough to start a rumor that the director was a murderer. Maybe so mad she’d con the student who took her place and try to out her in front of a US senator and his armed bodyguards.

  But part of me can’t dismiss that she might actually know something.

  I need to find her. I can try to sneak out to the campaign office and ambush her, but there’s a good chance she knows Caleb’s talked to me. If I’m not coming back, she might not be, either.

  Which means I need to get her phone number.

  And the only person I know who has it is Caleb.

  Taking a deep breath, I put on my big girl pants and march down the stairs. I listen at Dr. O’s office, but the light is out beneath the door, and no voices come from within. Caleb’s not in the kitchen, or the family room, so I head down to the pit.

  He’s not there. The lights are off, and the room is eerily quiet. I’m leaving when I hear the compression of the couch and a muffled giggle.

  Great. I’ve interrupted make-out time.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Paz, is that you? I’m looking for Caleb.”

  Another giggle.

  “Joel?” I sigh. “Never mind.”

  “Caleb isn’t here,” calls a male voice dropped low to imitate Joel’s. “Try back later.”

  “Wow.” I flip on the lights. “Serious…”

  A strawberry-blond head disappears behind the back of the couch. A moment later there’s a thump, and Henry goes rolling across the floor. Grayson snorts a laugh as Henry snags a controller off the carpet and stares up at the blank television.

  On the end table beside the couch sits Petal the Platinum Pig.

  “Oh.” I blink. “Oh.”

  Grayson stands and stretches. His shirt is crooked. His hair is messed up. It’s now abundantly clear that Grayson and Henry are doing a lot more than dancing together.

  I turn. I shouldn’t interrupt this.

  I shouldn’t be stung by it, either, but I am.

  “Want to join in?” Grayson asks. “This couch is definitely big enough.”

  I think of what Charlotte said about threesomes and choke.

  When I turn back, Grayson’s grin is sharp.

  “Henry, can I talk to you a second?” I say.

  Rising, Henry makes his way toward me, combing his hair with his fingers. His smile is shy and sheepish, and when he walks by, Grayson pokes him in the side and his cheeks turn as pink as his throat.

  “Have you seen Caleb?” I ask.

  Henry shakes his head. “Isn’t he still on leave? I sent him a million messages, but he hasn’t responded.”

  Henry must not have seen us talking outside PE.

  “No.” I lean closer as Grayson peers our way. “You okay?”

  “Mm-hm.”

  “This is all good?”

  Henry glances back and gives Grayson a little wave.

  “This is all incredible,” Henry whispers. There’s going to be no convincing him to take a step back. Henry’s been falling for Grayson since before Grayson stood up to Luke on Family Day.

  Which reminds me.

  “I saw your stepdad on the news.”

  Henry begins to pick invisible pieces of lint off his shirt.

  “Oh yeah? What’d he do?”

  “Seriously?” I cover his hand with mine and whisper, “Did Dr. O put you up to it?”

  “No.” His hand drops, taking mine with it. “Maybe.”

  It doesn’t sit right. This is Henry, and maybe he’s completed assignments for Dr. O like the rest of us, but none of them were this personal.

  “It’s not a big deal,” says Henry. “I don’t care.”

  “Definitely not rude, what’s happening right now,” calls Grayson.

  I glare at him over Henry’s shoulder. He seems to take this as an invitation to join us.

  “Remember, he’s here for a reason,” I tell Henry quietly, quickly.

  I sound a lot like Caleb.

  Henry winces, like I’ve hurt him. “We’re all here for a reason.”

  “That sounds very Zen.” Grayson slings an arm over Henry’s shoulders. “Done talking about me yet?”

  “For now,” I say.

  “She’s kidding,” says Henry.

  Grayson grabs Henry in a headlock and messes up his hair.

  “Let go of him.”

  I jump at the voice behind me. Caleb stands in the threshold of the basement, the lines around his eyes pinched, his mouth drawn in a flat line. I’ve never heard that grate in his voice, and it makes the fine hair on the back of my neck stand up.

  Slowly, Grayson releases Henry.

  “Caleb?” Henry’s waiting for a response, but Caleb doesn’t look at him.

  He’s staring at Grayson.

  “We got a problem?” asks Grayson. He’s got a dangerous look in his eye. The kind someone gets before they toss a match on gasoline.

  “There you are.” I jolt back into action. I’m not sure what Caleb’s up to now, but I know the way the sky feels when a storm is coming, and right now a hurricane is on the way.

  I go to Caleb, but a hand snags the back of my shirt and pulls me out of the way.

  “Hey!” I shove Grayson back automatically, but am bumped aside by Caleb charging into us. He pus
hes Grayson hard in the chest, knocking him back two steps.

  “Finally.” Grayson chuckles.

  “Okay,” says Henry. “Okay. We all need to take a few deep, cleansing breaths, and—”

  “Stay away from them,” says Caleb. I try to step between him and Grayson, but Caleb’s glare stays glued over my shoulder.

  Grayson holds his hands wide.

  “Where am I supposed to go?”

  “I don’t care,” says Caleb. His chest rises and falls in hard strokes. His jaw flexes as his teeth press together.

  “Clearly we’ve had a misunderstanding,” says Henry with a weak laugh.

  “I don’t think so,” says Grayson, without looking over. “It’s all pretty clear, actually. Caleb here rules the school, doesn’t he? And then I come in, and I take his girl, and his best friend…”

  Caleb reaches around me, but Grayson dodges him.

  “And that makes Caleb feel sad, doesn’t it?” Grayson taunts. “Come on, man. We’re evolved. Use feeling words.”

  “Shut up,” I snap at Grayson. “Caleb, come on. We’re leaving.”

  “I know what you did,” says Caleb.

  Fear coils inside me, ready to spring. It doesn’t matter what Caleb is talking about; my mind goes to one place: Susan Griffin. It doesn’t matter how many times I tell Caleb it was an accident; he’s not going to believe me.

  “Oh.” Grayson straightens. He looks repentant. “You do.” He hooks a hand around his neck. “Well I’m glad it’s out in the open, then. It’s been rough keeping it a secret. I didn’t know you two had a thing. She forgot to mention it, I guess.”

  My stomach bottoms out. For the first time since he entered the room, Caleb’s gaze flicks to mine, but I can’t look at him.

  “Grayson, shut up.”

  Humiliation burns me to ash. I try to push Caleb toward the door. He doesn’t move.

  “For the record, she started it,” says Grayson. “I think the whole lying thing really set her off.”

  Caleb flinches.

  “Who started what?” asks Henry.

  Grayson reaches in my direction. “Brynn, help me out here.”

  I can’t look at any of them. “Grayson, stop.”

  “I thought…” Henry doesn’t finish.

  “Nothing happened,” I say.

  “She’s right,” says Grayson. “We just kissed. A lot. Of course, if I’d known where it was heading, I would have been more prepared…”

  Faster than I can stop him, Caleb is past me. He rams into Grayson’s chest, throwing them both to the ground. A curse, then the sound of ripping fabric fills my ears. I scramble toward them to break it up, but they roll and knock me to my knees. I’m thrown forward, braced on my hands. Henry is yelling for them to stop.

  Grayson elbows Caleb in the side, eliciting a grunt. Caleb kicks and connects with the end table. The lamp tips off the edge and thumps onto the carpet. Then Caleb is on top, knees pinning down Grayson’s arms. His glasses are somewhere beneath them. He hits Grayson once, then twice. Blood spurts from Grayson’s nose, painting Caleb’s fist.

  “Caleb!” I throw myself into him just as Grayson kicks up. Someone’s knee connects with my gut, shoving all the air out of my windpipe. I’m thrown into the table, the side of my head smacking against the wooden leg.

  Pain ricochets across my skull. White dots explode like fireworks across my vision. Everything goes quiet, and as I gasp for breath, my body grows too heavy to hold up.

  “Brynn?”

  Caleb.

  “Brynn? Get away from her! Brynn?”

  Caleb’s face is swimming in front of mine. His hands are on my jaw. He’s shaking.

  “You hit her, you fucking lunatic!” Grayson’s voice is too loud.

  “Brynn?” Caleb keeps saying my name. I open my jaw, trying to quiet the sudden hissing in my ears, but the pain is so sharp it steals my breath.

  “Ow,” I manage.

  I blink, and Henry’s there, and then Charlotte. I don’t remember Charlotte being here. Joel’s face is just beyond. They’re all talking at the same time. They’re all looking at me like I’m dying. Then Charlotte’s pushing Grayson, and Henry’s between them, and Sam’s there, too, knocking Grayson into the wall.

  “Stop.” My voice is a whisper in a windstorm.

  Caleb pulls back as if I burned him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “Clear out.”

  All of the faces fall away but Caleb’s, and then Moore is beside him, his brows flat.

  “Everybody upstairs,” he says. A pause, and then, “Now. Grayson and Caleb, wait for me outside the director’s office.”

  “I’m not … I didn’t…” Caleb’s missing his glasses, I think vaguely. He looks younger without them. Scared.

  “Get your ass upstairs,” Moore orders.

  And then Caleb’s gone, and it’s just Moore and me. He asks a bunch of questions about what hurts, and what the date is, and if I know the director’s name. I sit up and bump into the end table again. The lamp is still spilled over the floor in front of me. The bulb has broken like an eggshell. Beside it, Petal looks back at me with her platinum eyes, and it occurs to me she might be bad luck.

  “I don’t have a concussion,” I say.

  Moore stands and pulls me up. The room tilts for a second, but I bear down until it passes.

  “What happened?” he asks.

  “Disagreement over who had the next game of Road Racers.”

  He sighs, and over the throbbing in my head comes a pinch of regret. Moore gave me a driving lesson. He’s from my neighborhood. I don’t like lying to him.

  But fighting’s against the rules. Moore told me that my first day here. And I’m not snitching.

  “Go with concussion,” he says. “I know you wouldn’t make up something that stupid otherwise.”

  Prodding the side of my head, I follow him up the stairs, Caleb’s words pounding between my temples.

  I know what you did.

  He could’ve been talking about Susan, or me kissing Grayson, or something else entirely. The truth is, I have no idea what Caleb’s thinking anymore.

  CHAPTER 31

  Twenty minutes later, I’m back in Dr. O’s office. My head is pounding like a hammer on an anvil, and I have a goose egg the size of a small island on the right side of my head that Tylenol can’t touch.

  “Are you all right?” Dr. O, brow scrunched in worry, leads me to the cushy seat in front of the fireplace—in front of the stones hiding his safe.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  He sits on the love seat, where he sat the night he told me he’d assigned Geri to plant drugs on me and that he knew that Caleb and I were involved with the Wolves of Hellsgate.

  I perch on the edge of the chair, unable to relax.

  “Mr. Moore says you’re declining medical care.”

  “I don’t need to go to the hospital.” I smile. It hurts. But if I take the trip to urgent care, this goes from a few apes beating their chests to a security incident. Moore’s already filled out a report on my condition. We need to keep this as low-key as possible.

  “Head injuries should be taken seriously,” he says.

  The police report said she had head injuries not caused by the accident. I blink, trying to quiet the cannon fire booming in my ears.

  “I have an iron skull.”

  “Hm.” Dr. O is unconvinced. “Your classmates will be punished, of course.”

  “Grayson’s not a classmate,” I say.

  Dr. O’s fingers weave over his bent knees. “So he started this?”

  Great. “I just meant that he’s not enrolled here like the rest of us.”

  Dr. O is quiet, waiting for me to go on.

  “Unless … is he going here now?” There’s no end to this con in sight. Matthew Sterling’s not being charged with covering up a murder, which means Grayson’s not testifying anytime soon.

  Dr. O could keep him here indefinitely while he blackmails the senator. W
hich means more of tonight’s fun, I’m sure.

  We just kissed. A lot.

  If Caleb didn’t break Grayson’s nose, I will.

  “For the moment.”

  Excellent.

  My mind flashes to Henry—to the look on his face when Grayson told Caleb we’d kissed. This job has turned me into a human wrecking ball, and Henry’s feelings have become collateral damage.

  “Grayson’s become a problem, hasn’t he?” The director’s head tips forward. “I’m sorry you had to bear the brunt of it. I knew taking him in would have its challenges. I never anticipated it would become physical.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “I have a student with a possible concussion.”

  “It’s just a bump.” I sound like my mom after Pete’s lost his temper, and it makes my head hurt worse.

  “I have another picking fights who’s never shown a sign of violence.”

  “Who said Caleb started it?”

  Dr. O shakes his head. “So it was Grayson.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “And neither did Caleb. Grayson, however, was quite clear on his innocence.”

  I’m sure he was. Grayson may act comfortable—especially with Henry—but he’s in survival mode, and he’ll protect himself first.

  I glance toward the stones where I know the safe is hidden, thinking of Susan Griffin’s phone. I doubt he’s given up on that, but he’s tenacious, if a little naïve. He’ll have a backup plan.

  “I need to let one of them go.” Dr. O’s exhale contains both relief and regret. “We have a fragile balance here. It’s my fault that’s been upset.” He glances up at the portrait of his sister, tension knotting his brows. “I can’t send Grayson away before he testifies, not with his father’s men hunting for him. After all he’s been through … it’s not safe.”

  My stomach gives a hard twist.

  If he’s not sending Grayson away, he’s cutting Caleb.

  “Hold on,” I say. “You can’t take Caleb out of the program.” His family needs this. His dad’s feeding tube was just infected. He has pneumonia. He could be dying right now.

  Dr. O presses his fingers to his temples. “I don’t know what else to do. His behavior’s been erratic. He’s fighting, and disappearing for hours at a time.”