Hero Complex

by Margaux Froley

  Bodhi’s lips twisted in anger, his eyes smoldering. “There’s going to be a time when they can’t mess with us anymore. Reed gave everything to Raven and me for a reason—to stop them from screwing with people. You shouldn’t have to do this.”

  “You … I know what you’re saying.” Devon’s eyes welled with tears. “But I have to do this. I have to fall into this trap, because it’s the only way I’ll learn the truth. It’s worth it. Let’s just think of it as a keep-your-enemies-close kind of thing. Do Eric a favor, see what we find out, and maybe something good will come of it.”

  Bodhi pulled her into his chest, his chin resting on top of her head. “You’re a hell of a lot braver than I am,” he breathed.

  “No, I’m not. Just more selfish.”

  He laughed. “I’m pretty selfish, too. So if you go … come back quickly.”

  Devon nuzzled her cold nose against his neck. “I have to ask one more favor. Can you help track the IP address from that email Isaac Green gave me? I think Raven sent an email out, but if they responded, it’s all probably with her.”

  He kissed her. “Okay. That I can do. But only if you stay in touch the entire time you’re on the road. Deal?”

  “Deal.” He stood, but she pulled him back and kissed him again, this time for a while. She didn’t care if her mom interrupted. Now she truly had nothing to lose except Bodhi—and she knew that she couldn’t, no matter what happened.

  DEVON’S MOM STILL WASN’T home when dinnertime rolled around. Devon rummaged in the pantry, hoping for some macaroni and cheese or something equally processed yet comforting. SpaghettiOs would work.

  She double-checked the sticky notes on the fridge. Her mother had left without a word this morning, naturally. The silent treatment was par for the course in this situation. But now Devon was worried. Her only child had been suspended, and she’d promised to be home three hours ago. It was unlike her not to be in contact all day. Could something at work be more pressing than this?

  Devon finished her last slurp of soup and almost unconsciously wandered upstairs to her mom’s room. But as she eyed the bedroom, she thought about that phone number she’d photographed. The aged paperback was long gone; there were no books on her bedside table. A few discarded blouses were on the bed, and there were the sneakers she had worn last night to pick Devon up at school, but nothing out of the ordinary. Devon flipped through her pictures in her phone to find the image with the number. It couldn’t hurt to try it, could it? Maybe best to try it from the home phone instead of her cell; that way the recipient—if the number was even still in service, if the recipient even knew her mother—wouldn’t be suspicious.

  She dialed.

  It rang, so at least it was still a working number. After a few rings, a man’s voice picked up. “Forget something?” He sounded friendly but terse, like he was busy with something else. Devon didn’t say anything.

  “Karen?”

  So this stranger clearly did know her mother. Devon didn’t know whether she should announce herself or not. Damn, damn, damn. She should have thought this through. She hadn’t actually expected anyone to pick up.

  “Um …” was all she managed to stammer.

  He immediately hung up.

  Devon stood there, petrified, until she heard her mom’s car pull into the driveway. Fighting to remain calm, she made sure she hadn’t left anything undone in her mom’s room and ran downstairs.

  “Hi, honey! Sorry I’m late!”

  Cheeriness. No probing questions about how Devon had spent her day or how Devon intended to atone for her terrible mistakes. No, her mom was armed with takeout Thai and blathering apologies. Boring staff meetings had kept her at the office. Devon let her rant. For all Devon knew, Mom could have spent the day at Keaton pleading with the headmaster. Of all the people in her life who might be conspiring against her, Devon knew her mother wasn’t among them. Which made the fact that her mom was lying right now all the more horrifying.

  AFTER A PAINFUL DINNER during which her mom suddenly remembered that she had to be a disciplinarian, Devon disappeared into her bedroom. She saw that Cleo was online. Video chatting might be too weird. Devon opted to send a text instead. Hi.

  Cleo responded a minute later: Bonjour! How’s the suspension?

  Met Mattie today.

  A longer pause this time.

  Too much free time on your hands?

  Cleo might have been joking, but it was still a jab. Devon had to tell Cleo what Mattie said. She would want to know the truth about Bodhi if their roles were reversed. Even if it meant Cleo might hate her for it. She had to.

  Ask Oz about Nikki.

  Cleo waited almost five minutes before replying. Dev, u srsly have 2 stop.

  And then she was gone.

  CHAPTER 23

  Maya called in the middle of the night. 2:38 A.M., specifically, because Devon stared at her phone for a few seconds, desperately hoping it was Cleo or Bodhi. The 406 area code made it clear that the caller wasn’t either.

  “Devon?” Maya whispered.

  “I’m here,” Devon said, now wide awake. “Eric said you’d be calling. He didn’t mention it would be so late, though.” She pulled the comforter over her head to keep the noise from reaching her mom down the hall.

  “I don’t have a phone up here. They took it. Listen, I’m sending a car service for you tomorrow at ten A.M. It will bring you here. You have an appointment set up under the name Chelsea Ford.”

  Devon’s pulse quickened. “Am I supposed to be writing this down?”

  “Chelsea Ford. That’s all you need to remember. They’ll pick you up tomorrow morning at ten A.M. I gotta go.” Maya hung up.

  Devon checked the time on her phone. 2:39 A.M. It had happened so quickly, she needed to remind herself that she wasn’t dreaming. If it was a dream, Maya might have said thank you. But gratitude had never been Maya’s style.

  A BLACK SUV APPEARED across the street as Devon waited by the window. She looked at her phone with bleary eyes: 10:03 P.M.

  A driver in a uniform unfolded a paper in the front seat. He caught Devon peering at him and nodded at her. Devon ducked back inside and played out the worst-case scenario in her mind: what if Maya and Eric had paid this driver to make her disappear? She didn’t know this driver or the company he was with—too many unknowns for her liking. The one thing she knew was that Eric’s desire to see Maya before his trial was real, because the crime of murdering his brother was real. He was guilty; it was just a matter of sentencing. Ergo, if she wanted to learn the truth and possibly save her life at Keaton, she had no other option.

  Devon had made up a thin excuse about spending the night with Ariel, her old friend from home. Basically, if she didn’t return to Keaton, she needed to reconnect with public school in a hurry. Her mom praised her for her “mature thinking.” She’d even used those exact words, words she would normally never use. Her mom was hiding something, too, so what the hell? They could hide together by being apart.

  Before she locked up, she made another attempt at dialing the mysterious number from the paperback.

  It was disconnected.

  TWENTY-ONE HOURS LATER, DEVON woke up at dawn in the backseat of the SUV as the driver pulled over at a gas station. The temperatures were lower; snow stuck to the metal lampposts on every corner like a bumpy layer of spray paint. Beyond the short block of stores nearby, Devon could see miles of white prairie, tinged pink in the sunlight, leading to snow-capped mountains ahead. Good thing she’d grabbed a heavy jacket and hat from her coat rack at the last second.

  “Where are we?” she croaked groggily.

  “Bozeman,” the driver replied in the rearview mirror. “St. Mary’s is just on the other end of town.”

  “I think I fell asleep somewhere in Nevada,” Devon said, yawning. “Wait, how are you still awake?”

  The driver smiled. “I pulled over and slept for a few hours. I don’t need much sleep. Part of the job.” He popped the door on the gas tank and
hopped out of the car.

  Stretching her legs sounded good. Devon flung open the door and jumped out also. “Okay if I use the bathroom?” she asked.

  “It’s your dollar, ma’am,” he replied politely and flipped the lever on the gas pump.

  Right. This isn’t technically a kidnapping. “I’m going to grab something inside, too. Want anything?”

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  The gas station store was like any other, although Devon noticed the vast varieties of jerky. Deer jerky. Bison jerky. Elk jerky. Moose jerky. Could they really taste that different? The pimply guy behind the counter looked to be in his late teens, early twenties. Devon wondered how much the local town knew about St. Mary’s. Any hints about what she was walking into might come in handy. “I’m visiting a friend at St. Mary’s. Have you heard of it by any chance?”

  He snickered. “The one with all the pregnant girls? I’ve never seen the girls here. Apparently the nuns don’t want them talking to any of the men in town.”

  “Oh, yeah?” Devon prodded.

  “My buddy tried to sneak a girl out of there, and some nun drove him off the hill with a shotgun. They’re not messing around up there. That I know.” He ran his hand along the rim of his frayed baseball cap and eyed the black Escalade. “Good luck, miss,” he whispered as he rang up her bottle of water.

  He probably thought she was pregnant, Devon realized as she got back in the car. She was glad she’d asked. A nun with a shotgun was an image Devon couldn’t shake. Maya had conveniently left that part out.

  Before she returned to the car, Devon texted Bodhi. I’m okay. More soon.

  THE WROUGHT-IRON GATE WAS flanked by two stone walls. A small oval-shaped sign hung on the left wall: ST. MARY’S SCHOOL FOR GIRLS. A video camera was mounted at the top of the wall, positioned perfectly to observe any incoming cars.

  The intercom next to the driveway squealed to life as a woman’s voice asked, “Do you have an appointment?”

  The driver looked at Devon in the rearview mirror. “Do we?”

  “Yes, tell her Chelsea Ford is here.”

  The driver rolled down his window. “Yes, I’m delivering Miss Ford for her appointment with you. Chelsea Ford.”

  The intercom clicked off. They waited in silence as the wind whistled around them. Devon noticed the driver stealing glances at her in the backseat.

  “What’s your name? I’m sorry I didn’t ask,” Devon said.

  “Kevin,” he said. “I know you’re no Chelsea Ford, but that’s fine. The less I know, the better.” He flashed a toothy grin.

  Devon smiled, relieved she didn’t have to try to lie to the guy who probably heard her snoring while he drove. “That’s probably a good idea.”

  With a screeching dial tone, the gates slowly swung open.

  “So far, so good,” Kevin said. He shifted gears, and the SUV climbed up the driveway. The house at the top of the hill wasn’t what Devon expected. It was sleek and modern and huge, with vast wood-paneled wings. She thought it would look like a nineteenth-century Colonial with a wraparound porch. In her mind, this place, even just the idea of it, was a relic from another era. But apparently in the current era, the underage pregnancy business paid pretty well.

  A nun dressed in full regalia was already walking toward their car as they pulled in. Her cheeks were pink in the cold Montana air, and her breath was visible in the dawn light. She was surprisingly young.

  Kevin walked around and opened Devon’s door for her.

  “You must be Chelsea,” the nun said, extending a hand to Devon. She scanned Devon up and down. Probably guessing if she was pregnant or not, Devon thought. Maya never said anything about Chelsea Ford being pregnant.

  “Thanks for having me,” Devon said.

  “I’m Sister Louise. Let’s get out of this cold, shall we?” The nun smiled, but Devon could see her jaw was clenched. The gas station attendant was right; visitors were probably not welcome around here. Sister Louise showed Devon to the front door. Devon turned around and saw Kevin leaning against the car, blowing into his hands against the cold air. He nodded. Next time she got in that car, Maya would be with her, and they’d probably be running.

  Inside looked more like a spa than a boarding school. The walls were painted a warm yellow color. A pitcher of water sat on its own small table with a handwritten sign that read: STAY HYDRATED! The whole room had turquoise accents and lots of Native American art and blankets.

  A girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen sat behind a desk, one hand resting on her pregnant stomach. She wore an oversized men’s plaid flannel shirt with leggings and furry boots and had pulled her hair into a messy bun.

  “Hi, I’m Reina,” she said with a bright smile and extended a hand to Devon.

  “Chelsea,” Devon replied.

  “Reina is one of our newer arrivals. She’s been on front desk duty this week. Let me give you a tour, and then we can talk a little more personally, hmm?” Sister Louise offered a knowing smile. Reina gave Devon the same. Yep, they all think I’m pregnant. Thanks, Maya. “Let’s start with the study rooms.”

  She led Devon down a long hall lined with six private study rooms, all with large glass doors and a lone pregnant teenager studying inside. The girls eyed Devon, each one glancing at her flat stomach, before a look from Sister Louise sent them back to their books. Privacy was probably rare at a place like this. She kept hoping Maya would be in the next study room or suddenly come around the corner.

  Did Maya even know she was here? What exactly was her plan at this point?

  At the end of the hall was a larger room with a kitchen setup on one side and a nursery on the other. “This is our practical education lab. We try to help the girls learn to cook for themselves and learn about proper food and nutrition for their growing babies.”

  Devon nodded politely.

  They passed the front desk again, where Reina smiled at Devon but went back to her homework. The next hallway wing had rows of closed doors, none of which were glass. These rooms were private; maybe Maya was in one of them. Devon reached for a door handle.

  “Could I use the bathroom?” she asked.

  “Yes, but that’s not the bathroom,” Sister Louise snapped.

  Devon already had the door open. Inside, an older nun sat at a desk, her head bent in prayer. Across from the desk, facing the wall, was a girl kneeling on a small stool, head bent in prayer as well. The older nun looked up, her face dry and cracked with wrinkles and frown lines. The girl stayed kneeling but looked up, too.

  Maya. Devon blinked.

  They locked eyes, and Maya quickly put her head back down. Devon could hear her whispering a Hail Mary.

  “This is a restricted area,” the old nun said. She stood and approached Devon. Tall, with football player-sized shoulders, the nun filled the doorframe, forcing Devon back into the hallway.

  “I’m sorry, Sister Helen,” Sister Louise muttered. “She was faster than me.”

  Devon noticed a glass case behind the nun’s desk, multiple rifles standing at attention inside. Across the room, Maya hadn’t moved. What was she waiting for? Sister Helen closed the door, its lock clicking into place.

  “Why don’t we head to my office for our chat?” Sister Louise offered.

  Devon did not want to get stuck in this nun’s office while struggling to hold up her thin lies. “That sounds like a great idea. But if you’ll give me a minute, I really need to use the bathroom—”

  A scream came from Sister Helen’s room, cutting her off.

  The door slammed open against the wall. Maya lurched into the hall, clutching her stomach with an agonized look on her face. “The baby’s coming,” she gasped between short breaths. “I have to go now. Call an ambulance.”

  “Call the ambulance,” Sister Helen yelled back at Reina. “Tell them we have a baby coming.” Reina called 911 from the phone on her desk.

  Sister Helen tried to steer Maya away from the door, but Maya went limp in her arms. “You
’ll be fine, Maya. This is just a contraction. You probably have a few hours until the baby comes. Breathe like we talked about …”

  “Please, it hurts,” Maya moaned. “Something’s not right. Let me go to the hospital. The ambulance won’t get here in time.”

  Devon pounced on her cue. “I have a car here. We could take her.”

  Sister Helen’s grip on Maya’s arm tightened. “I’m sorry, we’re not supposed to let these girls out of our sight. They are under our guardianship.”

  “Then you can ride with us,” Devon answered. “You don’t have to leave her, but we can honestly get her there faster than waiting for the ambulance.”

  “Just—just get me to the hospital,” Maya stammered. She waddled to the front door, pulling the nun along with her, straight toward the SUV. Kevin quickly ran around to open the back door for her. Devon helped hoist Maya into the seat.

  “Sister Louise, you go with Maya. Call me when you get there,” Sister Helen commanded. Sister Louise nodded vigorously; she almost seemed excited about going to the hospital. Devon ran around front and hopped into the passenger seat. Doors slammed, Kevin revved the engine, and they were barreling down the driveway.

  Devon had to hand it to Maya: the girl could act. She kept up the panting and crying the entire forty-five minutes it took to reach the hospital as Sister Louise rubbed Maya’s hand and coached her breathing. When they pulled up to the hospital entrance, Sister Louise instructed Devon to get a wheelchair to help Maya get inside.

  “No,” Maya interjected. “Get them to find Dr. Collins. See if he’s here.”

  Sister Louise nodded. “Right, right. Dr. Collins. Wait for me here; I’ll be back with a nurse.” She jumped out of the SUV and ran into the emergency room, her long black skirt flapping behind her in the wind.

  “Get the hell out of here!” Maya barked at Kevin. She reached over and pulled the backseat door closed. “Now! Get to the highway and go west!”

  Kevin needed no further instruction. He screeched into reverse, spun around, and sped toward the highway.