Secrets, Lies, and Scandals

by Amanda K. Morgan

  She needed a few quiet minutes to herself. A few minutes to think about how in the hell her perfect corner of the world had gotten so irreversibly screwed up. This was not supposed to be Ivy McWhellen’s Life, that was for sure.

  The night air was sticky-hot and wet—strange for so early in the summer. It felt a little like rain—except that the sky was almost clear. She wished, not for the first time, that she had a pool, like their neighbor. Her family lived an empty lot over from a giant, rather odd mansion with one of the best pools she’d ever seen. It was gorgeous.

  It wasn’t that her house was small, or not nice. It was actually pretty big, and her mom was a great decorator. It was that living next to the mansion was like living in a Polly Pocket house in a Barbie’s Dreamhouse kind of world.

  Ivy wondered if she could sneak over for a swim. The woman who lived there usually went to bed early. Ivy crossed the empty lot separating the homes and wedged her feet between the slats of the fence surrounding the mansion. She hoisted herself up, just like she’d done a million times—but someone was there. Someone Ivy recognized.

  The boy from her psychology course.

  The one who Dr. Stratford had locked out.

  “Hey!” she shouted, hoisting herself the rest of the way and dropping over the fence.

  Mattie

  Tuesday, June 9

  Mattie had been working very hard trying not to think about the fact that Derrick had only texted him once in the past two days when he heard something scuffling about near the fence.

  (Maybe someone.)

  He sat straight up.

  “Hey!” he heard.

  He lifted his head, and there she was—a beautiful, tan girl scaling his aunt’s fence like she’d done it a million times before. Actually, she looked familiar.

  “You’re in my psych class,” she said, coming up to the patio as if she just trespassed all the time. “I’m Ivy McWhellen. I live next door. I didn’t realize Janice had a kid.” She smiled at him, wide and confident. She was the type of girl who was used to getting what she wanted. She expected it, in fact, and she made sure everyone around her had the exact same expectation.

  She was the type of girl Mattie might want to date if he were someone else—someone louder and brasher.

  Mattie shut his laptop and stuck out his hand. Maybe he could use a friend. “I’m Mattie Byrne. And Janice is actually my aunt. I’m staying with her while I take the class. So.”

  Ivy shook it. “It’s nice to meet you. Actually, it’s nice to know someone is going to actually going to get some decent use out of the house and the pool this year.” She grinned, looking at the water, which was lit from underneath with color-changing lights. Right now, it was a vivid purple. “You swim in it yet?”

  Mattie shook his head. (He’d meant to. He’d just been . . . distracted.)

  “You should,” she said. “I sneak over here at night a lot. It’s seriously the best pool ever.” She half smiled and sat down on the bricks of the patio, looking out over the water. “So what are you up to?”

  “I came out here to see if it was easier to not think about my long-distance boyfriend from beside an awesome pool.”

  That was the thing about Mattie. He was honest.

  Usually.

  “And?” She raised her eyebrows.

  “Not successful.”

  Ivy laughed. She took off her sandals and dangled her toes in the water. “If I lived here I’d never think about my ex,” she announced. “It’s a magical ex remedy, I’d think.” She looked up at Mattie and patted the brick next to her. “There’s room for two. Or two hundred.”

  Mattie left his laptop on the little table, eased out of his sneakers, and sat down next to her. He touched his toes to the water. It was nice—cool on his feet, a delicious contrast to the wet-hot air.

  His phone pinged, and he leaped up to grab it from the table. But it wasn’t Derrick. It was his mother.

  Love you, the text said.

  “Expecting a call from the president?” Ivy teased. “Or the aforementioned boyfriend?”

  “The latter.” Mattie sighed and sat down next to her again. “He’s been so weird lately, you know? I think he’s having trouble with me leaving for the summer.”

  At least, he hoped that was it. It was easier to think about than the alternative—that Derrick was over him. Had moved on to greener pastures. Didn’t need him anymore.

  “Where are you from, anyway?” Ivy kicked at the water, sending a spray across the pool.

  “Pikesville. North side, by the reservoir.”

  “Pikesville!” Ivy said, sitting up excitedly. “My parents have a little cabin near there. What’s your boyfriend’s name? Maybe I know him! I know lots of people from Pikesville. It’s totally weird that I haven’t met you.”

  It was probably because Mattie wasn’t the most social creature. But he didn’t need to tell her that.

  “Derrick Waters,” he said. “We’ve been together, like, I don’t know, six months?”

  Only he knew exactly. Six months, eleven days. He kept a little calendar, and he put a neat checkmark at the end of each day before he went to sleep. It was one of those stupid little things he did that he’d never confess to Derrick.

  Never.

  “Oh, Derrick?” she asked. “Yeah, I’ve met Derrick. He’s wild.” She laughed.

  Mattie’s heart sped up a beat. “Wild? What do you mean, wild?”

  Ivy shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever people mean when they say ‘wild.’ He goes to lots of parties. He’s always out there, I guess.”

  Mattie’s chest got strange and tight, like it did a lot these days. For some reason, he thought that maybe, just maybe, Ivy wasn’t telling him the whole truth. There was something missing here.

  “Have you, uh, heard anything about him lately?”

  “No.” Ivy kicked at the water again. “Not lately.”

  “At all?” Mattie pressed.

  Ivy hesitated. “Well, sure. You hear stuff about everyone, right? Especially everyone in Pikesville. I mean, the rumors were crazy.”

  Mattie leaned in. “What did you hear?” he asked. He almost didn’t want the answer.

  Ivy stood up and brushed her hands off on her shorts. “Um, nothing for a long time. Nothing important, anyway.”

  “But—”

  Ivy gave him a short smile. “I’ve got to get back. But I’m glad you’re here, Mattie. I think we’re going to be friends.”

  And then, before he could say anything else, she was back over the fence, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  Kinley

  Wednesday, June 10

  Kinley had never met a teacher she hadn’t liked.

  More important, Kinley had never met a teacher who hadn’t liked her.

  And despite the fact that playing bad with Tyler had been kind of fun, and yeah, maybe she’d spent the better part of a night wondering what it would actually be like to kiss a guy for once . . . that wasn’t Kinley. She was going to get along with Dr. Stratford, and he was going to like her.

  Which was why she was here early. Again. She stalked through the halls like a soldier on a mission.

  She opened the door timidly, and poked her head in. Mr. Stratford was sitting at the desk, a pair of glasses low on his nose, paging through a book with the weird, uneven expression he always wore across his face. A large cup of Starbucks sat beside his hand. Maybe next time she’d bring him coffee. And what was he reading? Maybe she’d check it out so they could have something to talk about. She squinted at the title. Fifty Shades of Grey. Okay. Maybe they wouldn’t be discussing literature.

  “Excuse me, Dr. Stratford?”

  He looked up, not even trying to hide the book. “Can I help you, Elsie?”

  “Um, it’s Kinley?”

  Dr. Stratford took off his glasses and massaged his temples, as if calling her by the correct name greatly pained him. “Class doesn’t start for another half hour, Kinley.”

  “I know,�
�� Kinley said, forcing herself to be bright. She would not be discouraged. She would win him over. She hugged her notebook to her chest. “I just feel like maybe I got off on the wrong foot with you last class, and I wanted to stop by and personally apologize.”

  Dr. Stratford cleared his throat. “Frankly, I didn’t even remember that until you reminded me, but now it’s burned into my mind. I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”

  Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot. This was not going like Kinley planned.

  “Well, um, now that you do remember, I just wanted to see if there was something I could do to make it up? Like, maybe I could do an extra assignment or something. I’m a really hard worker, Dr. Stratford. I’d do anything.”

  He turned toward her. “Is that so?” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin.

  “Yes, sir.” Kinley let out her breath. Maybe this wasn’t going so badly after all.

  “Very well.” Mr. Stratford turned away and pulled a fountain pen from the drawer in the desk, and he scratched across the paper for a minute. He folded the paper neatly into fourths and handed it to her. “Have these done by next week.”

  A tiny, whispery part of her told her that next week was the first test. And that he was asking a lot. But that wasn’t something she should say, so she just took the paper. “Thank you so much, Dr. Stratford. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.” She put her palm on her chest. “Seriously, thank you.”

  “I’ll see you in class.” He picked the book back up. “I need to prepare, so please come back when class actually is set to begin.”

  Kinley eyed the book. “Oh. Okay. Thanks again.”

  He fluttered his hand at her. “Go.”

  “Yes, sir.” She left and very quietly shut the door behind her, then did a tiny little victory dance outside the door.

  She was back. Kinley Phillips was back. As soon as she finished these assignments, she’d be the favorite student. The teacher’s pet. She’d ace the course and do her father proud.

  “Uh, what are you doing?”

  She whipped around. Mattie Byrne, the boy who had been locked out of the class last time, was standing behind her. Obviously, he’d decided to get to class early this time.

  She grinned at him. “Winning.”

  And then she walked down the hall. She unfolded the paper that Dr. Stratford had assigned to her.

  Please check out Psychology: 305 from the local library.

  Read and report on chapters one, four, seven, and eight. Each report should be minimum of eight pages long, single spaced.

  Please answer test questions 1–30 for each chapter.

  Complete activities 7, 12, and 14 in chapter one, activities 1, 2, and 16 in chapter four, activities 3 and 9 in chapter seven, and activities 1–30 in chapter eight.

  If these activities are not completed by the beginning of the next class, I will assume you are not ready to take your academic responsibilities seriously.

  PS: Remember, we have a test.

  Kinley crumpled up the note in her fist, her blood cold. Then she smoothed it out, carefully folded it up, and borrowed a piece of tape from the front office to keep on the front page of her notebook. She downloaded the textbook onto her phone, and then waited outside the classroom with Mattie until the rest of the students started to arrive.

  She would not be daunted.

  She was Kinley Phillips, after all.

  And Kinley Phillips had made a reputation out of accomplishing the impossible.

  She would do this.

  Kinley followed Kip in and took a seat in the third row—not too close to the back, but not so close she looked like an Eager Edith, or whoever.

  She tried not to pay attention as Tyler came in. Tried not to watch as he chose a seat in the back. Tried to pretend she couldn’t feel his eyes on her.

  At least, she hoped his eyes were on her.

  Sort of.

  Okay, she did.

  Maybe she had a small crush on Tyler Green. And yeah, maybe Tyler Green was pretty much the first guy who’d ever actually given her the time of day, and maybe that was pathetic, but she couldn’t help it. She liked it.

  But when Dr. Stratford started talking, she turned off the boy-crazy part of her brain and began taking notes. She didn’t get annoyed when Dr. Stratford was rude about questions, and only got a little bothered when an attractive Asian guy named Cade was introduced to the class as “an over-privileged boy whom I was forced to admit to the class by merit of an obscenely wealthy father.”

  Cade, who was sitting back in his chair, sort of lifted his hand lazily, acknowledging this. “Here.”

  He did look like a rich kid, Kinley thought. Like he didn’t have to try.

  “We’re aware,” Stratford said drily. “Now, we’re going to skip around a bit. Who can name Freud’s stages of psychosexual development?”

  Kinley could name at least three, but she stayed still. Today, she wasn’t going to draw attention to herself. Maybe she could answer one question directly and then fly under the radar before gradually emerging as star of the class. She didn’t want to be obnoxious.

  Surprisingly, Cade, the new kid, raised his hand.

  “Mr. Sano? Did your private tutor provide you with the answer?”

  Cade smirked. “Oral, anal, phallic, latency . . . oh, and genital.”

  A couple of the kids snickered, but it was quickly stifled.

  “Surprisingly correct. Would you care to expand, Mr. Sano, or is that beyond your abilities?”

  Cade lifted a shoulder. “I’ll let you take it from here.”

  As Dr. Stratford launched into a detailed explanation of the oral stage, Kinley felt her phone vibrate in her pocket.

  She ignored it and kept taking notes.

  It vibrated again.

  And again.

  Very slowly, without moving her eyes from Dr. Stratford, she slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled her phone into her lap.

  She didn’t recognize the number, so she tapped the message.

  Hey.

  Do you know who this is?

  Look behind you.

  Kinley glanced back.

  Tyler was grinning at her. He winked and gave her a small wave.

  She felt her face grow hot. She smiled and turned back around.

  And found Dr. Stratford staring at her.

  He strode forward quickly and reached out to grab her cell phone. Then, without looking at the messages, he walked to his desk, opened the top of his paper coffee cup and dropped it in. He replaced the lid and swirled the liquid around.

  Kinley’s mouth dropped open.

  And then, without acknowledging that he’d done anything out of the ordinary, he moved on to anal.

  Tyler

  Wednesday, June 10

  “Kinley! Wait up!”

  Kinley spun around, her braid wrapping halfway around her neck with the motion. “I am not talking to you,” she said, lifting a finger. “You got me in trouble!”

  Tyler jogged up to her, his heart beating a little funny in his chest. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were going to check your phone right there in class.” He gave her his best innocent look, which was actually pretty good, considering.

  Kinley folded her arms and put her weight back on one leg, which Tyler knew as the international girl-sign for I’m pissed but I’m also listening.

  “Let me make it up to you.”

  “How do you propose that? You ruined my phone! How am I going to explain that to my parents? ‘I’m sorry, I was just texting with the school delinquent and the professor destroyed my phone in his evening latte!’ ”

  Tyler shrugged. A shitty, guilty feeling rolled around in his stomach. “Well, that was a little extreme. I mean, most teachers just take it away until the end of class. Or dock you points. But I’ll fix it.”

  “I’ve tried the cell-phone-in-rice stunt,” Kinley snapped. “Guess what? It doesn’t work.”

  Tyler raised his arm in the air and motioned ove
r a vehicle—the same purple Jeep as last time. He was going to fix this. He had to.

  Kinley held up her hands. “I’m outta here. I’ve been in enough trouble for one day.”

  “Just wait,” Tyler said. “I swear if anything happens I’ll say you had nothing to do with it.”

  Kinley groaned. “I don’t have time for this. Please tell me why I’m supposed to trust you again?”

  “I’m trying to prove myself to you right now!” Tyler pleaded. He clasped his hands together, his fingers interlaced like he was praying. “Please?”

  Kinley shook her head, but she didn’t move.

  Tyler waved again, and the Jeep pulled in, a few spaces away since the parking lot was still full. There was some kind of drama club meeting tonight.

  “Wait here,” Tyler said. He walked up to the Jeep, and the same pale guy—Jer—handed him two bags. Tyler slipped him a fold of bills.

  “What about the other thing?” Jer asked, scratching behind his ear.

  “Not today, dude.” Tyler cast a look back at Kinley, who was playing with the end of her long braid.

  Jer shrugged, following Tyler’s glance. “Whatever.”

  “Thanks, man.” Tyler bumped fists with the guy and then turned back to Kinley. He tucked one bag into the waistband of his jeans; the other, he tried to hand to her.

  She took a step back. “I don’t do drugs!”

  He laughed. “It’s not drugs. Check it out.” He ripped open the bag himself and pulled out a phone. A brand-new model.

  “It’s unlocked,” he said. “Maybe it’s not exactly like yours, but it’s close.” He handed it to her “It’s the least I could do. I know you’re still not Dr. Stratford’s favorite, but—”

  “It’s . . . a lot like my other one,” she said, almost grudgingly. She turned it over, judging it closely. “How did you get it so fast?”

  Tyler lifted a shoulder. “I texted my connections while Stratford was taking your phone for a swim. They always come through.”

  Kinley’s grip tightened on the phone. “It’s the only thing . . . I mean, thank you.” Her face was lit up. For some reason, he got the feeling that maybe, despite all of her success, nice things didn’t happen for her all that often.