Game of Fear

by Kabongo, Glede Browne

  KATHERINE:

  How’s it going?

  CHRISTIAN:

  I don’t know how to describe it.

  KATHERINE:

  Use words.

  CHRISTIAN:

  How do know? How did you know that you loved Dad?

  KATHERINE:

  Heading to a meeting. Let’s talk about this when I get home.

  CHRISTIAN:

  Should I call Dad? I need to know now.

  KATHERINE:

  No. I’m glad u came to me.

  CHRISTIAN:

  Okay.

  “I don’t wonder anymore,” he says to me. “I know.”

  I slide off the bed and begin to pace.

  His voice cracks. “You don’t feel the same way.”

  “I’m just thinking.”

  He sits at the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped. I plop down next to him and turn his face toward me. His wet, dull eyes make my heart ache. “I want you to remember us like this. The ball, your studio, when you slept next to me so I wouldn’t be afraid of the nightmares, Thanksgiving, coming to my locker every morning. All of it.”

  He looks down at the floor and murmurs, “Are you breaking up with me?”

  “No, but you might end things between us. If that happens, I won’t regret letting you in and trusting you with my heart. Weird, since I’m a control freak.”

  He stops staring at the floor and focuses his attention on me. He cracks a smile. “I don’t know why you think I will break up with you, but now that you’ve told me how you feel, that’s not happening.”

  “What about graduation? We leave Saint Matthews in four months.”

  “We’ll take it minute by minute, day by day.”

  How can I make plans for a future that may never come? How can I think about spending every day with Christian when at any moment, my deception will attack like a tsunami, and wipe out everything we’ve created?

  “What’s wrong, babe? Why are you sad?” He strokes my cheek. I can’t look him in the eye because I’m about to start sobbing, and I may not be able to stop.

  “Look at me?” he pleads.

  I reluctantly meet his eyes. “What’s going on? You can tell me anything, and I’ll do my best to make it better for you. I swear.”

  I whimper like a wounded animal. I’m incapable of speech so instead, I kiss him. He’s caught off guard at first, but then he reciprocates. He rains kisses all over my neck, my face and chest. When he nibbles on my earlobe, I can barely breathe. I fall backward into the mattress. He leans over me, his sensuous gaze lighting me on fire. The unspoken question is asked and answered. He bolts from the room and returns what seems like seconds later. We resume what we started, and I welcome the fever—content to let it take me to that place it’s been dying to show me.

  “Did I hurt you?” he asks, half asleep.

  “No.”

  “Liar.”

  “Yes, but I don’t care.”

  “How come?”

  “I love you.”

  Part Six

  THE CRASH

  CHAPTER 31

  I text Christian, asking him to meet at Joe’s Pizzeria after school and then slip my phone into the side pocket of my backpack. Everyone looks like they’re suffering from holiday hangover. I know I am. I arrive at my locker and ignore everyone around me. I have English lit first period. Ugghh. I have to see Sidney’s face. At least Trevor will be there to play peacemaker.

  “What is this?”

  When I turn around, I see Christian holding up his phone. His eyes are cold and vacant as if I’m some object of his loathing. I feel a chill that my cashmere turtleneck sweater can’t combat. I want to run away. I want to be anywhere but here, standing at my locker, facing his disappointment and anger.

  I take the phone from his stiff fingers and glance at the image. I don’t even have the energy to be angry. The dreaded photo sent by The Avenger stares back at me from the screen of his smartphone. With trembling hands, I give it back.

  “Well?” He’s fuming, irate that he has to ask for an explanation a second time. What can I say when bigger problems are looming? The photo could go viral at any moment. I had tough words for The Avenger after the Black Friday money drop. Then I didn’t get into Princeton. Now this. My attempt at retaliation is going to cost. A lot.

  “That’s why I wanted to meet after school.”

  “You knew about this?” he yells. A few people on their way to class level curious stares in our direction.

  “I only knew it existed when it was sent to me,” I say in my defense.

  “When was that?”

  “Before Thanksgiving.”

  “And you didn’t tell me?” He almost chokes on the words.

  “I was too ashamed,” I confess. “I thought I could make it go away before it got to this point.”

  “How did you plan to make it go away?”

  “I can’t talk about it right now.” My vague response is like throwing gasoline on the fire.

  “We talk about it right now. If you have a problem, we can get you help.”

  “Who sent you the photo?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know, some anonymous person. When was it taken?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He inches closer to me. “What’s going on, Abbie? Why did someone send me this?”

  “I’ll answer your questions this afternoon, and tell you everything. I promise.”

  “We said things to each other. Looking at this image, you didn’t mean a single word. If you did, you would have trusted me with whatever this is. I was wrong about you. You’re not different. You’re just a liar who put on a good con job.”

  With those soul-crushing words, he walks away from me.

  I can barely put one foot in front of the other as I attempt to walk all the way to English lit. My heart’s been carved up into little pieces. I could just die now. When I arrive in class, I crawl to my seat and put my head down on the desk, ignoring the chatter of classmates around me. If anyone says anything to me, I’ll shatter like a cheap toy.

  “Abbie, are you okay?”

  It’s Trevor. I lift my head from the desk and look up at him. He adjusts his glasses. He peeks closer at me. Are you crying?” he asks, his voice soft.

  “It’s over,” I whisper. “Christian and I are done. Happy freaking New Year to me.”

  He blinks in confusion. “Frances said the trip went great, and Christian’s parents loved you. What happened? You guys just got back.”

  “Lies, Trevor. Lies. They always come back to bite you where it hurts most.”

  “But you don’t lie.”

  “Don’t I? Anyway, it was fun while it lasted, and now, I’m the newest addition to the Christian Wheeler Fan Club. Hooray for me. I’m so freaking special.”

  He opens and closes his mouth, unable to find the right words. That’s because there aren’t any words that can make up for the fact that I sabotaged my relationship with Christian by keeping the truth from him.

  The conversation with Trevor ends when Ms. Morris, my guidance counselor, pops into the classroom. “Abbie, can you follow me? Bring your things with you.”

  Trevor and I look at each other. My classmates look at me and let out a collective “ooh.” People are hauled out of class for either one of the two Ts: trouble or tragedy.

  Seated in the office are the headmaster, Dr. Kellogg, and the Dean of Academic Affairs, Ms. Lana Weeks. Ms. Morris takes a seat, and so do I. Dr. Kellogg sits behind his desk, looking the scariest I’ve ever seen him look.

  “Do you know why Ms. Morris brought you in here?”

  “No, sir, I don’t.”

  “Some serious allegations have been made against you, Abbie,” Ms. Weeks says. She’s a slim brunette with her hair pulled back in a bun, and large glasses. We’ve always held each other in high esteem. By the look on her face, the lovefest is over.

  “What allegations? We just got back from the holidays. I haven’t even had first period c
lass yet.”

  “Dr. Kellogg received a disturbing message early this morning,” she says. “We have to address it right away.”

  “I wasn’t around after Christmas, so I have no idea what this is about.”

  Dr. Kellogg straightens his tie. “Abbie, someone sent an anonymous message accusing you of using drugs to enhance your academic performance here at Saint Matthews.”

  It’s time for my command performance. Fake it ‘til I make it confidence. “Well, that’s just ludicrous, Dr. Kellogg. You know my record from the day I arrived here as a fourteen-year-old freshman.”

  “We know. Which is why this is so upsetting,” Ms. Morris says.

  “There’s more,” Dr. Kellogg says. “These are not simple allegations. There’s a photograph of a young lady engaged in drug use. Her face is barely visible, but—”

  “But what?”

  “She resembles you.”

  I scratch my head. “Some random person sends you a note accusing me of something I would never do, accompanied by a photo of someone who supposedly looks like me, but you can’t tell for sure. Yet you still haul me into your office and treat me like a criminal?”

  He doesn’t care for my defiance. “There’s a zero tolerance policy regarding drug use of any kind at this institution. It’s our obligation to investigate all claims involving drugs. The consequences are severe if anyone is found guilty.”

  “If it’s proven that any student uses drugs on the premises, it calls for immediate expulsion,” Ms. Weeks says.

  I cringe inwardly. Ms. Weeks is talking about expelling half the student body if they were to ever launch an investigation.

  “I didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know what you’re accusing me of and why you’re trying to scare me.”

  My strategy to get out of this is simple. Deny, deny, deny.

  “We have compelling evidence. We have to take this seriously,” Dr. Kellogg insists.

  “What evidence? I would like to confront my accuser. I would like to see this so-called evidence. I’ve worked hard every day since I’ve been at this school, and I’m not about to let someone snatch that from me. Especially someone who doesn’t have the guts to make him or herself known.”

  “We’ve called your parents. A meeting is set for this afternoon.”

  He just pushed a dagger through my heart. Crap! I can’t talk my way out of this. “Why?”

  “For one, they need to be made aware of the situation, and two, we need to discuss how to resolve this and figure out what options we want to exercise. You can return to class for now. We’ll let you know when your parents arrive.”

  Just like that, I’m dismissed. I don’t return to class, however. I head to the chapel instead. The chill returns, and I can’t stop shaking. I can’t be expelled; I just can’t. What am I going to tell my parents? What if The Avenger sends the version of the photo with my face in full view? Dr. Kellogg says the face was blurred. It was meant as a warning to me that she’s not messing around. My hands are shaking so badly, I can barely pick up my ringing cell phone from the side pocket of my bag. Blocked number.

  “Happy New Year, Abbie. Did you miss me? I sure hope so because I missed you like crazy.”

  “Why don’t you just drop dead, Sidney? Stop pretending that you’re someone else. I know it’s you. I know you’re behind this.”

  “I’m going to call you in exactly three days with your next assignment. Let’s give the bureaucrats in the main office a chance to cool down. In the meantime, don’t mess this up. Rumor has it that Princeton didn’t want you. How unfortunate it would be if you met the same fate with Brown or Cornell or Yale. Tick, tock, Abbie.”

  She just stuck a blade in me, and she’s turning it slowly. I don’t doubt for a second she could do what she just threatened. She’s right about one thing. I am running out of time.

  “Oh, by the way, I’d like to offer my condolences,” she says chuckling. “I heard your relationship with Christian died a pretty painful death.”

  “You’re going to die a pretty painful death when I’m done with you.”

  “You’ll have to catch me first, and we both know you won’t.”

  “I will.”

  “I bet you won’t.”

  “Watch me.”

  CHAPTER 32

  "What the heck is going on, Abbie? Your father is livid, and so am I.”

  Mom’s on the line, and she’s not happy.

  “I don’t know, Mom. Dr. Kellogg is acting like I committed the crime of the century, all based on some murky picture from an anonymous source. The whole thing is just stupid.”

  I’m still holed up in the chapel. I need divine intervention if I’m going to survive this hurricane.

  “We should meet beforehand. I don’t understand who would accuse you of using drugs. The idea is ludicrous.”

  “That’s what I told him. I don’t think he believes me. He’s anxious to pin something on me, which is weird. We’ve always gotten along. I thought he liked me.”

  “We’ll get this sorted out, sweetie. I’ll see you soon.”

  After I hang up with Mom, I send out a new text message.

  ABBIE:

  Need your help one last time. Sidney has completely lost it.

  DAHLIA

  ???

  ABBIE:

  Will tell u face-to-face.

  I arrive in the cafeteria for lunch with my girls. I’m not hungry. In fact, the thought of food makes me want to gag. I plop down on the chair; my shoulders hunched over.

  “We’re so sorry, Abbie,” Callie says. “What’s the latest?”

  “My parents are on their way here. You know my dad. He’ll go nuclear on Dr. Kellogg. I can’t afford to make The Avenger angry right now. She’s threatening to send letters with the photo to the other schools I’m applying to.”

  “She’s playing you,” Frances says. “She already got fifty grand from you, and she won’t stop.”

  Neither Frances nor Callie has any lunch in front of them. This is not the way I thought we’d spend our last few months of high school together. Frances is right, which is why I need Dahlia’s help more than ever. This time, she really is the only person who can help me beat The Avenger.

  “I’m going after Sidney hardcore,” I say. “I want her diary. No more hesitation.”

  “You’re such a bad-ass,” Frances says. “I want to be you when I grow up.” She gives me a high-five. So does Callie.

  “How are you going to get the diary?” Frances asks.

  “I can’t give you the details of the plan. That way, if I get caught, you can say you don’t know anything, and it will be the truth.”

  “What an awful beginning to the year, huh?” Callie says.

  “Well, last year ended with a bang, so I have to hold on to that,” I muse.

  “Are you and Christian really over or is this just a fight?”

  “I think we’re done for good, Callie. You should have seen the way he looked at me. He called me a con artist. I wanted to die right there on the spot.”

  “Where does Christian get off, acting like the moral police?” Frances asks.

  “He’s mad that I didn’t tell him,” I explain. “He was blindsided by that picture. He has always been straight with me, about everything. To find out that I kept something this big from him hurt him a lot. But right now, I have to suck it up and deal with my pain another time.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Frances says. “You’re right, though. You have to put that aside because there are bigger problems like you not getting kicked out of school.”

  “I know,” I say and drop my head down on the table. “I need you guys to help me stay sane, remind me what our lives were like before all this trouble started. Otherwise, I might end up in a psych ward, with only the voices in my head for company.”

  “Okay,” Callie says. “My dad went out and bought me a Rolls-Royce Phantom. He said it was an early graduation gift. He probably figured you would tell me he showed up at the Wh
eeler’s party with his latest skank and wanted to placate me. How stupid does he think I am?”

  I sit up straight in my chair. “So you won’t meet with him? Callie, I think you should. When I spoke with him, I got the feeling that the situation goes much deeper than we imagine. Don’t you think you owe it to yourself to hear his version of what happened?”

  She sighs. “I don’t know, Abbie. I’m a coward, I guess. I don’t want to be lied to or handled.”

  Frances chimes in, “It’s like Abbie says, give him some face time, and after that you can do whatever you want. You don’t want to damage your relationship long-term, wondering what he had to tell you and if it would have made a difference in the way you see things.”

  Callie lets out a puff of air. “I’ll consider it.”

  “What about you, Frances?” I ask.

  “I start my internship at the newspaper tomorrow after school. It won’t do any good for my applications to Columbia and Northwestern, but it will be a boost to my resume. And next month, I’m heading to San Francisco with my parents for the Chinese New Year celebration.”

  “That’s cool,” I say. “Is your sister going?”

  “Penny will be touring, again. My parents will be forced to adopt me as their favorite child.”

  “I’m sure you’ll have a blast,” Callie says.

  Our conversation is interrupted when Sidney makes a sudden appearance at our table, startling us.

  “What do want, Sidney?” I can’t control the hostility pouring out of me.

  “I just had to come over. I heard the most devastating news that you and Christian broke up after such a long time together. What was it, five minutes? You should have listened to me.”

  Frances glares at her. “Don’t be a hater, Sidney. Christian still adores Abbie, and so do his parents. Can’t say the same for you. Wait, hold on a minute,” she says, holding up her hand dramatically. “You’ve never met his parents, have you? You’ve never seen the inside of Bedford Hills, and you never will. Now, run along.”

  Sidney bites her bottom lip, then backs away from the table. “I hate all you bitches. Drop dead,” she says, her voice thick with emotion. Then she turns on her heels and walks away.