by Jordan Ford
“Hey.” Rybeck squeezes my shoulder. “Where’s all this coming from? Are you getting bullied? Do you need me to step in?”
I shrug him off me.
“Which guy is it? I’m happy to try and get him expelled for ya.”
I snicker and shake my head. My mind bounces from Ivan to Trey. Both are dangerous.
Ironically, it’s the nicer one who poses the bigger threat.
“It’s okay,” I finally mumble, wiping another tear off my cheek. “I can handle it.”
“You’re one of the strongest teenagers I’ve ever met. You know that?”
I scoff, then sniff.
“Turns out the pre-trial date isn’t going to happen until after Thanksgiving.” Rybeck taps his finger on the table. “I’ve advised Headmaster Williams to keep you here.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“It’s the safest bet.”
I make a face, showing him how much I hate it.
He squeezes my shoulder again. “Once this is over, you’ll get a new life. One that involves a beating heart.”
My gaze snaps to his. He gives me an abashed smile and rubs his neck again, still hiding something.
“Just please stay here and do the right thing. Don’t draw any attention to yourself. Don’t piss off any more teachers. Just keep your head down, stay clean, and make it to that witness stand, all right?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to reply.
Shooting out of his chair, he opens the door and beckons me to follow him. Once we reach reception, he hugs me goodbye, putting on the perfect show as Headmaster Williams comes out to greet him.
And then he’s gone and I’m directed to the pokey desk in the corner to write out the entire Eton Prep Code of Conduct.
I think it’s safe to say my brilliant plan was an epic fail.
My life couldn’t suck anymore if I tried.
Will my new life be any better?
It’ll involve a beating heart. Well, that’s comforting. If the dull thud in my chest is anything to go by, I’m not sure I even want one.
Closing my eyes, I bang my forehead on the desk and wonder how the hell I’m going to make it to pre-trial, let alone testify against someone I’m supposed to call family.
#14:
Not My Problem
Trey
I didn’t see Chris for the rest of the day.
Mr. Adler returned to class, still red and dissatisfied.
I found out later that Chris was given a strike one. He’s also been put on in-house suspension, including Thanksgiving. Apparently his dad showed up and gave him an earful.
Too bad for him.
It’s not my problem.
But it is.
Because I can’t stop thinking about him.
And I can’t stop wondering if I’m the reason he wants to get expelled.
It’s pissing me off. I don’t want to waste my emotion on the guy, and I hate that I can’t stop obsessing over it.
The only thing I can do is just ignore him and get on with my life.
So we had a good time skating and cleaning a bathroom together. Big deal. Whatever. So I totally understand what it’s like to have an old man who doesn’t get where you’re coming from. Who’d rather have you miles away than sitting at your Thanksgiving table with his new, shinier family.
Chris Lorden is not my problem.
My dad is not my problem.
Shit, I may as well spend Thanksgiving at Eton too. I haven’t spoken to Dad since our blowout. Neither of us has tried to make amends, and I will not take back the fact I said Mom was a million times better than Step Monster, and I will not apologize for calling that woman a bitch after she accused me of being a pain in the ass who was good for nothing more than taking up a spare room in her penthouse apartment.
It will probably be a relief for everyone if I just stay here.
So that’s what I’m gonnado. Not because of Chris, but because I want to.
I won’t talk to the guy. He’ll be too busy scrubbing pots to hang out, anyway.
Riley will be up for staying. The only family he’s got is the nuns at St. Catherine’s Home for Children. He spent a while there after his parents were found dead. Not sure the guy will ever get over it. Doesn’t help that the case went unsolved and barely reported on. Riley’s wasted hours trying to find out the truth, but it’s hard to do when he’s stuck in a boarding school and every enforcement agency he ever tries to contact basically shrugs him off.
If he goes to St. Catherine’s for Thanksgiving, he’ll get sucked into a vortex of frustration. I’ll win him over with a line like that.
I snicker as I climb the stairs to our room.
Kade will be an easy sell too. He’s not exactly close to his parents. Not going home will probably be a relief for the entire family—he won’t have to spend the holiday pissing them off to get attention (old habits die hard) and they won’t have to spend the holiday trying to pretend that he doesn’t exist.
We’ll have the school to ourselves and no family dramas to deal with.
Best decision I’ve made all year.
I swallow, ignoring my true motivation, and double-time it up the stairs. The sooner I tell the guys my idea, the sooner they can make me believe I’m doing it to hang out with them and not keep an eye on Chris.
#15:
Never Betray Your Family
Christiana
Well, that was another shit day.
I rub my thumb over my dry fingers and grimace. Dish duty sucks. It’s only been a day and a half and I already hate it.
I can’t believe I have to stay in this stupid place. I seriously thought pushing a teacher and being an arrogant little shit would get me kicked out for sure. Stupid three strikes. I don’t want to learn to be a better person!
Mr. Adler read my letter, then placed it on his desk with a dismissive smile. We didn’t exchange words. He could tell I wasn’t that sorry, and I could tell he was still pissed.
Sniffing, I clomp up the stairs to my room. I have an hour before dinner. Ninety minutes before I’m scraping food off dinner plates and being yelled at by the kitchen staff.
Stupid Rybeck. Can’t believe he’s landed me in it for Thanksgiving too. I get that he’s trying to save my life and everything but right now, it’s not exactly a huge comfort.
I’ll be in this hellhole all by myself. Yes, a small reprieve from any Ivan bashings, but I’ll be a damn workhorse and miserable.
The halls are going to echo.
The silence will suffocate.
There’ll be nothing to distract me from obsessing over Robbie’s death.
I stop at my door and touch the door handle.
There’ll be no guys lounging in my room watching hockey games and passing me cold beers.
Okay, so they’ve only done that once, and I shouldn’t really want them to do it again, but it was actually kind of nice having them there. Listening to their banter. It made me want to be part of their little group.
A dangerous thought, but so enticing at the same time.
Shouldering my door open, I stop short when I see Riley hunched over his contraband laptop. He’s playing with his bottom lip, pinching it together, then rubbing his finger under his chin.
I roll my eyes but am secretly pleased for the company. Riley’s an intelligent guy. I don’t mind him so much. I thought I’d have to watch him, but he hasn’t asked too many questions. He sometimes looks at me a little too closely, like he’s trying to figure me out, but I’m pretty sure he does that with everyone.
He seems like a good guy and so far hasn’t sent off any warning alarms in my head.
Right now he’s too distracted watching the news to notice me anyway. The guy’s like a junior Einstein—he’s fascinated by facts and figures, reads science books for fun, likes in-depth discussions about history, hockey, anything technical. He’d rather watch the news than a movie.
And people here think I’m weird.
Dumping my
bag, I mumble a hello, then go quiet as the news story catches my attention.
“Breaking news in the murder of eighteen-year-old Roberto Candella has come to light today when his parents finally spoke out about the crime. Roberto’s father, Giovanni Candella, thinks police have the wrong man and says authorities should be looking for the accused’s niece, who has reportedly been missing since the night of the murder.”
I go still, the air in my lungs liquefying as I gape at the screen.
An image of Roberto’s father pops up. The only reason I know it’s him is the graphic label beneath his name. I’ve never met the man before, but I can see the family resemblance in the dark eyebrows and chin dimple.
“When we found out Roberto was with the girl the night he died, we had to wonder if her uncle is simply covering for her. The evidence is dicey, and there’s a chance the case could be dismissed due to lack of evidence.” He wags his finger in the air. “But they’re looking at the wrong evidence! They should be hunting for proof of the girl. Roberto knew better than to spend time with a Sorrentino. He was probably telling her to leave him alone and she took offense and killed him. That’s what a Sorrentino does.”
My eyebrows wrinkle with confusion. What the hell is he talking about?
“Unbelievable.” Riley shakes his head as the anchorwoman comes back into shot.
“The Sorrentino family has refused to comment on the accusation. When asked about the whereabouts of their daughter, they simply said she’d run away. According to police, the family reported her missing over a week ago. Authorities have been looking into the case but with the note she left behind, it’s likely the girl ran away, making Mr. Candella’s claims that much more substantial. It is unlikely the police can overlook this, and the Candella family is insisting on a nationwide manhunt.”
Back to Mr. Candella, his eyes dark with rage and despair. “I’d pay good money to have her brought to justice. Please, if you have any information or you are sheltering this criminal, now is the time to speak up.”
An image pops up on the screen, and my heart stops beating.
It’s me with pale eyebrows and silky brown hair. My face is made up—plump eyelashes, glistening lipstick. I look like the perfect girl I used to be, smiling for the camera and making the average schoolgirl jealous. I used to be beautiful then.
Now I’m a scrawny boy who’s just been accused of murder.
The air in my lungs gives out.
I’m cold. Numb. Horrified.
“No way.” Riley’s eyes narrow as he stares at the screen. “Her?”
“Get out,” I croak.
Riley glances over his shoulder. “What?”
“Get out!” I practically scream, giving myself away. “Turn that shit off and get lost!”
“What the hell is your problem?” Riley’s face bunches, making his pale eyebrows wonky. “Has Ivan been at you again?” He squints, looking for bruises on my face.
I’m going to lose it in a second. My chaotic heart feels like it’s about to jump straight out of my body.
A reward. For me?
No, not me. My head. My lifeless body on a platter.
“I’ve had a shit day and I need some space,” I whisper, choking back my scream.
Crossing his arms, he stands his ground. The belligerent idiot!
“Just let me finish watching the news and—”
“Get out!” I scream. Shoving past him, I slap the laptop closed to cut off the images.
“Hey, be careful with that!” Riley jumps forward to rescue his precious hardware. He holds it carefully, checking for damage. “You are one crazy psycho.”
“Out!” I grab the flashlight off my desk and hurl it at him. It clips the edge of his cheek, then thumps to the floor.
Everything goes quiet except for the sound of my rapid breathing.
My chest heaves while I grab the edge of my desk and stare at Riley’s shocked expression.
A red welt has already formed on his cheekbone.
Shit. It’s bleeding.
Brushing the thick locks off his forehead with first-class dignity, he fires me a black look before calling me a fucking moron and storming out of the room.
The door slams shut behind him.
I flinch.
Breathing is still a struggle. My hands are shaking.
Bile surges within me and I grab the trash can at my feet. Holding it like a teddy bear, I drop to my knees and give away my lunch.
The retching makes me cry.
Or maybe it’s the news.
A flashback hits me from behind, making my eyes bulge and my stomach writhe with a sob. Covering my mouth with shaking fingers, I remember…
“Ana? What’s the matter?” My mother catches me as I run into the main entrance of our house.
My eyes are wild, my breathing erratic. “He killed him. Shot him dead.”
Mom swallows, running the tip of her tongue over her lower lip, then biting them together.
I grip her arms as she holds my face. “What are you talking about?”
“Robbie. Robbie’s dead.”
“Who’s Robbie?”
“My friend!”
“From school?”
“No, I met him at the beach a few weeks ago! We’ve been hanging out.”
Mom frowns, getting distracted by the fact she doesn’t know him.
“Robbie Candella!” I scream his name, like it’ll somehow explain everything.
Mom lets go of my face and steps back. “You’ve been seeing a Candella?” she whispers, her voice black and acidic.
“What’s his name got to do with it! He’s dead! Did you hear me?”
Mom’s eyes start to glisten as she crosses her arms. “Who killed him?”
“Uncle Marco.”
The breath whooshes out of her and she blinks a couple of times. “You saw?”
“Yes. I saw.”
“Are you sure it was him?”
“Mother! I know it was him!”
My eyes narrow as I track her gaze. It darts across the floor to the staircase.
I go perfectly still, a cold calm washing over me as I read her expression. “He’s killed before, hasn’t he?”
“There’s no proof,” she mutters. “And your father would never allow it.”
“But you suspect he has.”
Her expression is pained, her silence loud and obvious.
I raise my chin, clenching my jaw as rage surges through me. “He’s not going to get away with it again.”
Her eyes flash back to me, rounding wide with panic. “What are you going to do?”
“Go to the police. Tell them the truth.”
“No! Ana, you mustn’t… Not for that boy.”
I flick her hand off my shoulder as soon as she places it there. Stumbling back, I crash into the wall. “How can you say that? You condone this?”
“Of course not! But Marco is your father’s brother. You would see him go to jail?”
“If he’s guilty of the crime, yes!”
“No.” She points her finger at me. It’s shaking. “You are a Sorrentino. We stick together.”
“By keeping dark secrets?”
Her face flushes with color while my eyes narrow into thin slits.
“I won’t do it.” I shake my head. “I will not turn my back on this.”
“You cannot betray your family.” Mom’s voice shakes. “They are blood.”
“I don’t want them as my blood! He’s a criminal!”
“The risk is too high. The consequences…” Mom’s cheeks pale. “Please,” she whispers. “Please, stay silent.”
“I couldn’t,” I choke into the trash can. “I’m innocent. He’s guilty! It has to end with me, Mom. It has to.”
Tears swarm my vision.
My family has lived in the shadows for too long. I’ve suspected dodgy dealings for years—dirty money, theft, smuggling. Our house is too secure. Our lifestyle too lavish. There are too many meetings behind closed doors,
and secret smiles at parties.
I don’t know how my father and uncle provide for us. I’ve never wanted to. It was easy to turn my back on it all…until Robbie died.
My father would never condone murder. He might steal and lie, but he wouldn’t kill. He’s only protecting Marco out of loyalty, trying to clean up my stupid uncle’s mess.
I don’t have that same conviction.
And now I have even more reason to feel this way. I didn’t kill Robbie. And I don’t care what kind of beef is going on between the two families.
All I know is that Robbie and I weren’t doing anything wrong.
Uncle Marco is the devil. He deserves to go to prison.
Slumping back against my desk, I pull my knees to my chest and whimper.
I’ve betrayed my family for justice. To put an end to it.
But now I’m scared that I won’t have stopped anything but my own life.
#16:
Unbidden
Trey
Kade grabs my sleeve and tries to pull me back as we race each other up the stairs. I laugh and shove his shoulder. He has to grab the railing so he doesn’t fall but it motivates him to charge double-time up the stairs. We reach the door at the same moment and jostle through it.
Yes, we’re acting like five-year-olds, but it’s fun and so we do it.
We fly down the corridor and skid to a stop outside our door, Kade giving me one final shove to make it through first. I let him have it.
“Yes!” He raises his hands above his head. “Champion!”
I roll my eyes and dump my bag at the foot of my bed. Riley’s hunched over his desk with a dark look on his face.
“You okay, Ry?” I shrug out of my jacket and start loosening my tie.
He turns to scowl at me and that’s when I see it. The welt on his cheek.
Dammit!
“What happened?” My voice is tight, snappy.
Memories flood me. Riley with a bloody nose, a wedgie, a split lip. The list goes on. Ivan and his buddies made an art form of torturing him freshman year and he never said a word. That’s why I stepped in and served up my own form of justice.
“You touch him again, you’re dead.” I growled the words in Ivan’s ear before spitting on his face and stalking away.