by Kes Trester
The first picture I found of her was with Hayden. It was on the last day of classes, and the roommates had their arms slung happily around each other’s shoulders as they celebrated the end of finals. A little further back were more photos, sometimes in a group, sometimes alone, but almost always with Hayden. Quinn popped up often in the pictures with Hayden and Rose, but her expression was never as relaxed as those of the other two girls.
There was nothing romantic about the photos of Rose and Hayden, or the trust and comfort they displayed with each other. They were simply best friends. My momentary stab of envy was swiftly replaced with profound sadness. Poor Rose. Poor Hayden.
Then something else caught my eye. Several of the photos were familiar. I dropped to the floor and ran my hand underneath the bottom of my bed, where I’d stashed my ID card along with all the other sensitive documents Karen had handed over. The lining had already been ripped when I arrived, making it easy to use the box springs as a hiding spot.
Extracting the copies of the photos sold to the gossip rags, I compared them to ones on the class Instagram account. Sure enough, every illicitly brokered picture could be found on the site as well, posted by a number of students. They couldn’t all be in on the sale of the photos.
I tossed my copies back into the envelope with disgust. This was a fool’s errand. It didn’t matter who took them; anyone could have pulled those photos off the feed and sold them. Besides, with drones flying over the property, anyone could be photographing the campus.
I’d rolled onto the floor again to tuck away my secrets, pushing the envelope deep into the springs, when my fingers brushed against something solid. It came out easily with a tug, and I discovered it was an expensive cell phone that was almost new except for the shattered screen. The rest of it was protected by a pretty white case decorated with a red rose.
It must have belonged to Rose, of course, which answered the question of why she had gone out to buy a new one. But why was it stashed in the bedsprings?
The pile of blankets across the room stirred as Hayden chose that moment to wake. I shoved the phone under the mattress and climbed to my feet. As intrigued as I was by the lengths Rose had gone to hide it, the phone’s discovery would remain a secret for now.
If a dead girl had thought it was important enough to keep hidden, then so did I.
t the appointed hour that night, I reported to the security offices. As soon as Major Taylor closed her door and flipped on the desk lamp, I told her about the bugs planted in our room.
Her body stiffened. “What kind were they?”
I regarded her blankly. “I don’t know… the listening kind?”
She leaned against a corner of her desk and folded her arms. “Depending on the make and model, we might be able to discern if they were just installed, of if they’ve been there for a while. Do you still have them?”
I shuffled my feet. “Well, no. I might have flushed them down the toilet.” I mean, really, how many people were likely to get bugged around here?
She exhaled a frustrated sigh at my rookie mistake.
“At least I can tell you where Hayden’s been going at night.”
“Where?”
“She’s been going to the upper boy’s dorm to do homework with her brother. Which brings me to my next question: why didn’t anyone tell me Stef was Hayden’s half-brother? Isn’t anyone worried about him?”
“You are an untested field agent. Until proven otherwise, you will only be given the information necessary for you to accomplish your job. As for the boy…” She shrugged.
A flush of righteous anger on Stef’s behalf stained my cheeks, but expressing it would accomplish nothing.
She picked up a paper from the top of a stack. “Incidentally, we got a report from the Bridgehurst police that two men were attacked Friday night in the parking lot of the Stop & Shop by two young women driving an expensive car. Do you know anything about that?”
I steeled my expression to remain as neutral as possible but was still grateful for the long, concealing shadows thrown by the room’s only source of light. “No, ma’am.”
“Hmm,” she murmured. “It does match up with the time you and the Frasier girl were off campus.” Her voice held a trace of humor, letting me know she didn’t believe a word of my denial, but she wouldn’t be losing sleep over a couple of yahoos. “Very well. Is there anything else?”
“Actually, there is.” I told her about my reconnaissance of the campus, and what I’d observed of the school’s appalling lack of security. If that drone had been sent to check the place out, whoever controlled it now knew, too. “But what difference does it make if she can leave without a security detail anytime she wants?” The irony of those words coming from my mouth was not lost on me.
“You mean actually bring this place into the real world? That’s a laugh. I should march you into McKenna’s office. Maybe you’ll have better luck convincing the old bat she’s living in a fairytale.” She tossed the police report back on her desk with disgust. “She’s so concerned with her precious image that she hasn’t even allowed us to install closed-circuit cameras outside the school buildings.”
“I don’t understand. How could that be an image problem?” Surveillance devices were so small and discreet these days, most of the time you never knew they were there.
“What if pictures of our students in an embarrassing moment were leaked to an outside source? What if the systems were hacked to track the movements of certain high profile students such as Miss Frasier? What if some bleeding-heart liberal parent, especially one who keeps the money flowing around here, thought it was a violation of privacy?” She ticked the reasons off on her fingers, growing increasingly agitated as she went. She obviously didn’t find McKenna’s arguments valid.
“Are you saying the only thing between Hayden and the outside world are a few rent-a-cops and me?” My body went cold. I wasn’t Hayden’s last line of defense. I was pretty much her only line of defense.
I gracelessly dropped into a chair, surprised to see Major Taylor eyeing me with sympathy. “Look, your only job is to act as another pair of eyes and ears for us, not put yourself in any danger. We’ll keep Hayden Frasier safe.”
She was trying to make me feel better, and I appreciated it, but it wasn’t working. Those bugs were proof someone had their eye on us, and it was foolish to keep Hayden here. It was even more ridiculous someone with Major Taylor’s supposed standing had been called in to oversee a facility where even the deer could come and go at will.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” I ventured, “but are you here because of some disciplinary action?” Benson had taken on a few troublemakers at some of our more remote outposts, so I knew how the military worked. If you screwed up, you got sent to some hellhole in the outer reaches of Mongolia, or in this case, a prep school.
“Absolutely not!” All friendliness vanished. “I have the highest commendations, a spotless record, and if all goes well here, I’ll be promoted to lieutenant colonel as soon as Frasier’s new software is delivered.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” She shot me a look of impatience, so I rushed to explain. “Think about it. If there weren’t any real threats, would they have sent such a valuable asset—you, that is—to protect her? What’s weirder is they’ve allowed Hayden to remain here and she can leave campus anytime she wants. It doesn’t make sense.”
Major Taylor appeared thoughtful, but she couldn’t shed any light on what the powers-that-be had in mind either.
Sometimes that was just the way the military rolled.
As if wearing a uniform five days a week wasn’t enough, Monday night dinners were decreed as formal dress. I would have been happy to make do with sweats and a vending machine meal, but the only way to escape these nights was to be carried out on a stretcher.
I’d managed to grab the first shower and had slipped into black, silky trousers and a soft, gray sweater, the closest thing to pajamas I could find. Hayden em
erged from the bathroom just as I slapped on some lipstick and used my fingers to fluff my wilted curls.
“You look… really great,” she said, pausing to give me the once-over before crossing to her own armoire. She’d wrapped her hair in a messy bun, and her shower had caused pretty little curls to spring up about her face.
“Thanks,” I said, tugging at my pants. “The handbook was pretty vague. I didn’t know how dressed up to be.”
“Neither do the freshman,” she said, her eyes twinkling with humor. “After the rumors we circulated, some of them will show up in tuxedos and ball gowns.”
It wasn’t exactly the hazing Benson’s recruits often endured—usually involving a big spaghetti dinner followed by a ten-mile run—but we’d take our fun where we could.
She turned to dress while I slid on a pair of patent leather heels. This was the most relaxed we’d ever been around each other. I could either silently enjoy it or possibly screw it up royally by opening my mouth.
“I’m really sorry about Rose,” I said softly. Her back stiffened, but that was the only indication she’d heard me. “I’ve never had a best friend,” I confessed. “We moved too much, and it’s not like there were many other kids around anyway. But I do know losing someone leaves a hole that can’t be filled.”
I had no memory of my mom, but I still missed the idea of her. Someone to tell me the reason my hair got brittle was I rinsed it too much after conditioning. Or that wearing pastels made me look like an Easter egg, or that underwear came in colors other than white.
The silence grew oppressive, and I’d just decided I was a complete fool when Hayden turned around. She’d pulled on a clingy navy dress with an exposed silver zipper running from neckline to hem.
“Thanks,” she said, drawing on a pair of boots. “Are you ready? Let’s go.”
s I strolled through the halls the next morning, people I’d never met called out a greeting. My probation, it seemed, was officially over.
It wasn’t like Hayden and I were suddenly a matched set, but the truce that started in our room carried over to dinner. Glimpses of the outgoing girl I imagined existed prior to Rose’s death slowly came into view as she became more talkative, and she made a point of including me in the conversation. I’d sat on one side of her, and Quinn on the other. It had been kind of fun.
There wasn’t a set time period for mourning, but pain can only be endured for so long. Then it must be tucked away and revisited only in quiet moments when the wounds aren’t so fresh. At least that’s what my dad once told me.
“Look at you, Miss Popular.” Sam fell into step, grinning all the way.
We’d given up the pretense I wasn’t checking him out at meals. Now he often met my glance with one of his own, usually with a goofy smile or some other silliness.
“I cannot be seen talking to you,” I said with a smile that completely contradicted my words.
He danced ahead a step, so we faced each other for a moment. “Even if it’s to tell me what it is you don’t hate today?” His expression said he, too, was remembering our walk under the stars.
“No,” I said, laughing. “I’d like to be able to sleep at night without worrying about my roommate shaving my head or something.”
“What if I talked to her? Maybe if I tell her I only want to smack you around in the gym, she might even pay to watch,” he teased.
We’d reached my classroom, but neither of us was ready to end our banter. What I wouldn’t have given in that moment to make everyone else disappear just long enough to pull him into a kiss.
I shook off the image. “Maybe she’ll pay to see me smack you around, ever think about that, mon capitane?”
“All the time, Riley, all the time.” With a wink he sheared off, leaving me with thoughts in my head that had no place in World Geography.
I floated into class and collapsed in my seat.
“Somebody’s having a good morning.” Stef’s voice penetrated the fog.
“Oh, you know,” I said, waving my hand airily. He’d seen the change in Hayden at dinner, but hopefully not the way Sam and I had been flirting just now.
He didn’t probe any further as he scrolled through the morning’s Instagram posts.
“Anything good?” I shot a meaningful glance at his phone.
“Too early in the day,” he sighed. “And once again, another Man Crush Monday has come and gone, and I’m still on the shelf.”
All conversation ended with the arrival of the Kraken, and the class immediately shifted gears.
An hour later, the bell finally rang, but before we could push back our chairs Mr. Bracken appeared in front of our table. “Mr. Corbett, you are excused. Miss Collins, a word.” He spun around and marched back to his desk, leaving Stef and me to exchange questioning glances. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I begrudgingly followed my teacher to the front of the room.
He waited until the last student had filed out before looking up from grading papers. His red pencil had already slashed and burned through a small stack of last Friday’s pop quiz on ancient Roman cities. He had a perpetually sour look his face, so it was hard to tell what he was thinking as he met my gaze.
“Would you like to see your quiz?” It was not the question I expected.
“Uh, yes, sir.” He sorted through papers covered in red chicken scratches. One even had ‘WERE YOU HIGH WHEN YOU TOOK THIS TEST?’ scribbled across it. He found my paper and handed it over. It was the same as when I’d turned it in without any grading marks whatsoever.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Is there something wrong?”
He leaned back in his swivel chair, the wood protesting with a loud groan. “No, there’s nothing wrong. In fact, it’s perfect.”
We stared at each a few moments. “Um, thank you?”
He laced his fingers over his slight paunch. “No one has ever gotten that particular quiz completely correct.”
A rush of heat shot through me as I put two and two together. “This is my own work! I swear I didn’t cheat! In fact…” I halted abruptly when he calmly raised a hand, calling for silence.
“It was a pop quiz, for Pete’s sake, it’s not like you knew it was coming.”
My anger cooled, but not completely. The guy was toying with me. “I’m going to be late for my next class, so if that’s all…”
“I need a teacher’s aide.”
I took half a step back in surprise. “What does that mean, exactly?”
He waved a hand over the papers on his desk. “Grading tests, logging in scores, some light filing…” He glanced at his empty coffee cup. “And black with two sugars.”
“And you want me?”
He cut me the thousand mile stare he usually reserved for people who asked absurd questions. “Unless you’re now the head of Human Resources, and I clear my personnel needs through you, yes.”
I shifted my backpack, a delaying tactic while I wrapped my head around his offer. “Would that mean I ace the class?” That wasn’t a real concern, but less homework would free me up to focus more on my mission.
He scoffed. “Hardly. You would still be expected to know that the Balkans are not an alien race on Star Trek.”
Extra work and more time spent with a teacher who had the grating personality of an overworked camel? No thanks.
“It’s really nice of you to ask, but I’m just getting the hang of things around here.”
The chair squeaked again as he sat upright. “I gave you more credit, Miss Collins. I would have at least expected you to ask what’s in it for you.”
I felt like smacking my head over such a rookie move. My dad always said to never walk away from a one-sided negotiation without finding some leverage, even if you had to beat it out of them with a crowbar. “You’re right. I guess you caught me off-guard here. Please tell me why I should accept the position.”
His eyes gleamed like a marketplace vendor who was about to close a sale. “First, a letter of recommendation from a highly-regard
ed instructor at Harrington will carry a lot of weight on your college application.” I had no clue what kind of reputation he had with college administrators, but his tone conveyed I should take this seriously. “And secondly, I wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss a valuable ally, if I were you. From what I hear, you might need one.”
My shoulders stiffened. “What have you heard, sir?” Had the local police gone over Major Taylor’s head to report the scuffle at the Stop & Shop to McKenna?
“Let me put it this way,” he said, with a Cheshire cat grin. “Something is making people nervous around here, and the only thing I’ve been able to learn is it somehow involves you.”
Everyone had their phones in hand as classes let out for lunch. A lot of people posted just prior to the midday break because it was one of the few times of day everyone checked the school feed at the same time. Racking up “likes” was very important around here.
I didn’t think much of it until entering the dining hall. Several people turned to look at me—too many. My stomach curled. Couldn’t I get through an entire day in this place without falling flat on my face? I hurried toward the food stations and then kept going, bolting right through one of the kitchen doors.
The lunch ladies bustled about the stove and prep area, but paid me no mind as I found a patch of white-tiled wall to lean up against. Embassy kitchens were always warm and hospitable places, and I grew up knowing there were always treats and a sympathetic ear to be found there. Not so at Harrington. The first time I’d said “thank you” to a white-aproned woman handing me a plate of lasagna I thought she’d faint. There was an unspoken divide between the students and the staff.
It didn’t take long to figure out what had everyone’s attention. A photo of Sam and me talking this morning had made the school feed. The picture had captured my body as it leaned toward his. There wasn’t a caption, but my expression betrayed exactly what was on my mind. And Quinn had posted it.
First I wanted to strangle my phone, then Quinn, and then myself. How could I have been so careless? Benson had accused me of ignoring inconvenient truths, and he was right. Quinn had fired a few warning shots, and I’d been too naïve to take them seriously. No wonder she hadn’t mourned the loss of Rose; Quinn was too busy trying to take her place.