Hitting the Target

by Katrina Abbott

  Brady’s eyes narrowed and then he finally spoke. “You mean like CIA?”

  “Something like that.”

  One dark eyebrow went up. “What do you mean, ‘something like that’?”

  “I mean I can’t really tell you but you have to understand it’s not because I don’t want to. It’s because I can’t. I am not even supposed to tell you this much. My father is going to flip out when he finds out I’ve told you, but Clayton blew my cover. I knew him way back when before my dad became top-tier and I guess he didn’t realize...”

  “So you weren’t going to tell me,” he said, interrupting.

  I took a breath. “Not yet, but I really wanted to. I even called my dad and told him I was dating someone and I wanted to tell you about me but he said I couldn’t.”

  “Right. Because it’s a national security issue,” Brady said, an edge to his voice.

  “Brady,” I said, looking at him sideways. “I’m telling you the truth.”

  “How would I know?”

  He had a right to be skeptical, but still, that hurt. Maybe telling him more would help. “My brother works there, too. That’s why he was here. To keep me safe.”

  “My mother said he was doing maintenance.”

  “That was his cover. Even I didn’t know at first.”

  “My mother wouldn’t keep that from me. She never lies to me.”

  Really? Like how she now knew about both me and Robert but hadn’t said anything? And how she kept him from starting back at coaching to keep him off his bad foot? That wasn’t a lie?

  Not that I wanted to throw his own mother’s deception in his face right now. I was trying to calm him down, not make things worse.

  “Brady,” I said again, stepping toward him. He quickly stepped back away from me, out of my reach.

  “No,” he bit out, shaking his head, keeping his arms folded, his barrier against me. “I can’t do this. I thought...” He scrubbed his hands over his face before he exhaled loudly and then looked at me. His eyes were no longer cold; now they were sad, which was worse. “I just can’t. The lies...the trust is gone. I can’t do this.”

  The last thing I wanted to be was the girl who manipulated guys with tears, but in that moment, when I saw it all completely falling apart, I was powerless to stop them. He didn’t believe me. He wasn’t going to trust anything I said anymore. I’d known he was mad but I’d thought when I finally told him the truth, he’d understand. Never for a second had I thought he wouldn’t actually believe me when I did finally tell him the truth. “Ask Clayton,” I said, wiping the tears away. “He’ll confirm my father’s job.”

  “Of course I asked him,” Brady said, frowning. “He said your father worked on the Buckley Air Force Base but he couldn’t tell me what he did. And he said he hasn’t seen you in years.”

  “That doesn’t mean what I’m telling you now isn’t true,” I pleaded. “We went to London because of all the terrorism. He searches out and busts terrorist cells which makes him—and by extension me—a target. I haven’t used my real name in years because of all this. You have to believe me.”

  His eyebrows went up. “No I don’t have to believe you. I did believe you. I trusted that what I knew about you was true.”

  “I couldn’t tell you the truth. But I wanted to. I really did, I promise.”

  He shook his head. “I don’t even know your name.”

  I looked over my shoulder to make sure we were still alone. “Paige. It’s Paige,” I whispered. “But you can’t call me that.”

  “Right. Because of national security.” He didn’t do them, but I could almost hear the air quotes.

  Fresh tears fell down my face. “Why won’t you believe me?”

  He blew out a long breath and then schooled his face, the ice back in his eyes. “I can’t do this. Do you have anything else you need to say to me or is this all of it?”

  Other than more begging? “Brady...I...”

  His nostrils flared in anger and I dropped my eyes.

  “No,” I said. “Nothing else.”

  “Then you’d better go.”

  “Brady, don’t end it like this.”

  “There’s nothing to end” he said, but the way he was clenching his jaw told me he wasn’t as unaffected by all of this as he wanted to let on.

  You told me you loved me, I wanted to say, but I knew he’d just throw back in my face that he couldn’t love a stranger.

  “But it’s just my name,” I said. “I’m still the girl you know. None of that was a lie. I love horses. I want to be a writer. I’m horrible at dressage. I love cookies, Misty of Chincoteague and romantic comedies and I drink coffee. That’s all me. That’s the truth.”

  “Don’t you get it?” he said, looking down at me, his eyes now tortured and—oh my God—glassy. “It’s not just that I didn’t know your name. It’s that I thought you cared about me enough to be honest with me, no matter what. How can I know what else was a lie?”

  “Nothing else,” I said. “Just my name and about my dad’s job. But he has a new, less risky, job now. He’s back in the States.”

  “After he got sick?”

  Crap. I hesitated and he caught on.

  “Oh right. That was a lie, too.”

  “Brady, I had no choice...”

  He cursed and shook his head. “No. I’m done. You know what? I can’t do this. I had to watch my mother deal with the aftermath of a lying, cheating husband. I had to listen to her sob every night in bed when she thought I was asleep. I saw her torn apart by lies and half-truths. I can’t do it. I thought you would never betray me like that...well, obviously I was wrong.”

  “It’s not like that,” I squeaked out.

  He straightened his spine and narrowed his eyes. “Go,” he said again, nodding toward the hallway.

  “Please...”

  “No. Don’t make me ask you again.” He stepped toward me and I waited as long as I could until his chest was almost against mine, but this wasn’t how I wanted to be pressed against him. He was crowding me out the door and I finally had to move.

  I opened my mouth to plead one more time but before I got the chance, he backed up a step and slammed the door in my face.

  So much for fixing things.

  No Escape

  I stood there almost against the door, trying to catch my breath when I heard my name.

  God, can I not catch a break today? I thought.

  I quickly swiped the cuff of my blazer across my face and turned to see Janette coming toward me.

  Her smile quickly turned into a frown as she looked over my face, which had to be a mess. “You okay?”

  Oh sure. I have my heart crushed every day. “I’m all right,” I said. “Just...” what could I say? I didn’t dare look toward the office where Brady was because the last thing I wanted to do was draw attention to that. Though as I thought about it, I realized if the dean knew about Brady and me, probably Janette did too. Well except this last part that I didn’t want anyone to know about. But I needed to say something that would explain my tears.

  Come on, Brooklyn, you’re like a world champion liar, you should be able to come up with something plausible, my little devil said. I swear, I wanted to shoot that devil through the head with a crossbow.

  Except that I really did need to come up with something. I shrugged and glanced up at the clock. “Just PMS. Oops, I need to get to class.”

  “You didn’t mess up and come to morning practice, did you? Wait...” Her eyes went wide before she said, “I did put four o’clock on the e-mail, didn’t I?”

  “What e-mail?” I asked.

  She blinked at me a few times. “For jumping practice. It starts this afternoon. Didn’t you get it?”

  “Sorry, I haven’t looked at my e-mail since Saturday.”

  “Oh, okay,” she said, obviously relieved. “Well it’s today at four. You can make it?”

  Why wouldn’t I be able to? It’s not like I have any sort of love life. I nodded. �
��Sure. See you then. I’d better get going.”

  She gave me a smile and I managed to get out of the barn before Brady came out of the office.

  Okay, so I guess I got one break.

  But it would be the last one that day.

  ~ ♥ ~

  “Ms. Prescott, you’re to report to the dean’s office,” was my greeting upon entering my second period English class.

  “Of course I am,” I muttered as I turned back around and left the classroom. Because it wasn’t enough that Brady had raked me over the coals today, now his mother had to have her turn. I hitched my bag up over my shoulder and made my way down to the office, feeling rather sorry for myself. I also gave some serious thought to Dad’s threat to transfer me to a different school, closer to them. It would certainly make it easier to not have to think about Brady and see him on campus. But I’d been telling Dad the truth about doing well at Rosewood; I did have the best friends and was doing well academically. Plus, Brady situation aside, I did love that there was riding at this school. If Dad put me in a public school, there wouldn’t be any more riding. And who knew if there was an equestrian center near where they were living now. Not to mention the writing project I was planning to start on with Celia.

  No, transferring wasn’t a good option just because I’d made things awkward with Brady. I was going to have to figure out how to either get him to declare a truce, or get really good at avoiding him. If jumping lessons were in the afternoon, that should make it easier, since Brady attended Westwood in the afternoons. Maybe I wouldn’t have to see him at all. As I approached the office, I realized this might just work out after all and felt marginally better. Except now I had to face the dean about God knows what. Well, it was either one awkward topic or another really awkward topic.

  Sigh.

  When I went into the outer office, Mrs. Andrews waved me in toward the dean’s open door, that knowing smile gone from her face, making me wonder how much she really did know. Did she and the dean gossip about students? Brady? Ugh. Whatever. I just wanted this meeting over with no matter what it was. Because I knew it couldn’t be good news.

  “Dean Haywood,” I said in as respectful a tone as I could muster.

  She looked up from her computer screen and waved me in, her expressionless face telling me nothing about what to expect. No surprise there. “Good morning,” she said, waving me toward a chair.

  “Good morning,” I responded as I sat, folding my hands in my lap even though I wanted to turn and run out the door. Bolting was my new thing.

  “Have you spoken with your father?”

  I fought the urge to sigh in relief because while I didn’t want to talk to her about this stuff, it was still better than talking about Brady.

  “I have, actually,” I said. “Just this weekend.” A lie, obviously, but I didn’t want her to think I was putting off talking to her. “He...uh...” now I did sigh because the dean wasn’t going to like my answer. “He says I’m not allowed to disclose my real identity.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  “But I guess it doesn’t matter,” I said, dropping my eyes from hers. “It’s...it’s over with Brady anyway.” The last word fell away as my throat closed up. So much for not talking to her about him.

  Do not cry in front of the dean, I yelled at myself in my head, but my brain had other ideas.

  The dean slid the box of tissues toward me and I tugged one out.

  “Well, that certainly explains his mood this morning,” she said.

  I didn’t bother responding to that, pressing the tissue to my face as an excuse to not look at her.

  “What happened?” she asked, her tone not exactly warm and fuzzy, but slightly softer than usual.

  “He found out I’ve been lying to him about who I am. He said he feels betrayed and can’t trust me, so...” I shrugged, still avoiding her eyes. I wasn’t about to get into it with her about the conversation I’d had with him about how he’d watched her suffer after her marriage fell apart due to lies. TMI. Plus he’d already told me how much she hated students knowing about her private life, so I didn’t think letting on that he’d even told me that was a good idea.

  She sighed. “I suppose that’s a risk you took when you started a relationship with him under false pretenses,” she said.

  Gee, thanks for the comforting words, I thought. I mean, she was right, but it might have been nice to get a little bit of sympathy. Or perhaps even a, “Let me talk to him,” which on second thought might be too weird. But if it got us together, maybe it would be worth her meddling.

  Or not. “So now what happens?” she asked looking like she had zero interest in helping.

  I shrugged again. “I guess nothing. I’m not going back to dressage anyway—leaving was about me changing sports, not him being my coach. I start jumping practice with Janette this afternoon.”

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  I nodded. “I’m looking forward to it.” Which was the truth.

  She continued to stare at me until I couldn’t take it anymore and dropped my eyes, holding my breath as I waited for whatever was coming next.

  Finally, she put her hands on her desk and stood up. “All right then, I’m about due for my coffee break and you need to get to class.”

  I jumped up from the chair. “Thank you, ma’am,” I said, giving my eyes one last swipe with the tissue before dropping it into the garbage beside her desk.

  “You sure you’re all right?” she asked.

  I nodded, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’m fine. I mean...it kind of...” sucks, is what I wanted to say. “...isn’t how I’d want this to play out, but...”

  She nodded. “I understand. Perhaps this will allow you to focus on your academic achievements here at Rosewood. Because while I recognize social relationships are an important part of adolescence and the reason why we have joint events with the Westwood student body, your parents sent you to an all-girls school with a reputation for academic excellence for a reason.”

  “That’s true,” I said, although it didn’t cheer me up at all.

  “And while your father likely wants to see you happy, I’ll bet he’ll be relieved to hear you’re focusing on your studies.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” I said, unable to keep the edge to my voice because my father was the reason I was even in this mess. “Am I free to go, ma’am?”

  She narrowed her eyes at me for half a second before she said a curt “Yes.”

  I almost got away before she stopped me. “Oh, one more thing.”

  I kept my hand on the door but turned halfway toward her.

  “Please have your father call me. I’d like to speak with him.”

  I almost choked on my saliva. “Pardon me?”

  “Your father. Since I don’t have accurate contact information for your family, he will need to call me. Please let him know I’d appreciate a call sooner rather than later.”

  “Er...of course. But he’s very busy. May I tell him what it’s concerning?”

  She smiled in a way I took to mean, nice try, kid before she said, “Why, it concerns you, of course.”

  So yeah, not much I could say to that, was there?

  She cocked her head at me. “Any reason you’re still standing there, young lady? You’re missing English class right now and with mid-terms coming, I expect you don’t want to fall behind.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said. “Good day.”

  “Good day, Ms. Carrington.”

  I walked out the door and got through the office and into the hallway before I realized I’d never actually told her my real name.

  Crap.

  Just What I Needed

  After stewing through English and worrying about getting pulled out of Rosewood again, I skipped lunch and ran up to my dorm room, where it was quiet, to call Dad. It’s not that I was in a rush to tell him the dean wanted to talk to him, but I needed to do some damage control. Having the girls know my name was one thing, because I knew they’d
never tell or do anything to get me in trouble or put me at risk, but having the dean know was a complication that was bigger than I could handle. And as much as I hoped my dad would never find out, it was inevitable that he would and better he hear it from me.

  Although how had she found out? Could Brady have told her? Was he so upfront with her that he would tell her my secret? He seemed to think she was completely forthcoming with him on all things, but did that go both ways? It was probably a good idea to ask him, although he was about the last person I wanted to talk to at that moment. Still, if I went to my dad and could identify the trail of the security breech, he’d be a lot less likely to freak out. Hopefully.

  I took out my phone and opened a text message to Brady, telling my heart not to thump so hard in my chest over what was just a few words and not exactly a life or death situation.

  Hi. The dean knows my real name. Did you tell her? It’s important.

  I stared at the words for a long time as I tried to anticipate his response. Mad, probably. If he responded at all. But before I hit send, I deleted the message and shoved the phone back into my blazer pocket. Screw it, I thought. Dad can freak out and talk to the dean and get the story from her. I didn’t want to have to face Brady over this again. Things were bad enough without him thinking I was accusing him of ratting me out to his mother.

  Before I could chicken out or spend the entire lunch period waffling about it, I picked up the landline phone and called my dad.

  He didn’t answer, so I left a message for him to call the dean. Oh and that she knew my name. Sorry!

  “Yeah, he’s totally going to freak out,” I said out loud after I hung up the phone. The good news was that I had every confidence that if anyone could convince him to keep me at the school, it was the dean. She’d assure him of her discretion and the security at the school. Maybe she’d even let him send Robert back. Though I wasn’t sure how I felt about that since little bits and pieces about what happened between him and Emmie had leaked out in the weeks since I’d returned and I really did not like the idea of him hooking up with my friends. Though with Emmie and Chelly safely in committed relationships, I didn’t have as much to worry about.