Secrets, Lies, and Scandals

by Amanda K. Morgan

  Tyler looked at Kinley.

  She knew what the look meant.

  And then he reached into his pocket and quietly pressed record.

  Cade

  Monday, June 29

  “This changes nothing,” Cade said. Something was rocketing around in his head, some idea, and he couldn’t quite get ahold of it.

  This was not happening. He had been smart. He had been careful.

  This was their fault. If someone had screwed up, it wasn’t him.

  Other than today. He hadn’t meant for today to happen.

  Not like this.

  “Hold on,” Ivy said, her palms up. “What exactly . . . what just happened? I need to know what happened.”

  “Everyone calm down!” Kinley said. “We can’t have Mattie upset.” But she actually looked like she was trying really hard not to cry.

  “Well”—Tyler dropped into one of the chairs—“it’s time to get upset.” He pushed his hair back and rubbed his neck. “He said he wants me to tell him everything. That he can help me. So what do I do? Cade, do I mention that you punched Stratford and he just happened to die?”

  Cade made a deep, guttural noise in his throat. “If anyone mentions that, I swear to God I will hunt you down and kill you myself.”

  Kinley laughed. It was a harsh, cold noise, like jagged glass rubbing together. “Well we all know you’re capable of that, Cade.”

  Cade’s face darkened further. He had to put the brakes on this now. “Stop,” he said. “Just stop. Don’t act like you didn’t all have a part in this. Before you revert to narc-land, Kinley, don’t act like you didn’t trip the guy. You killed him as much as I did.”

  Kinley shot a panicked look at Tyler. “You threatened me!” she said. “And I never meant for him to trip over my shoe.”

  It was Cade’s turn to laugh. He couldn’t have Kinley turning all Goody Two-shoes on him and going to the police. Out of everyone, she had the most credibility. He had to scare her. “I know who you are, narc. Don’t think we’ve forgotten, either. Or that we’re not watching your every move. We know what happened with the captain of the basketball team. Or Sarah Larson, the co–head cheerleader? Oh, or maybe Alera Samuelson, when she stole half of her paper off the Internet? It’s your nature to do the ‘right’ thing.” He made air quotes. “Don’t think that if you make one wrong move, we all won’t rip you to shreds.”

  “She’s not going to say anything, Cade,” Tyler said, a little defensively. “Let’s just . . . find out what Mattie knows before we make any rash judgments here.”

  They all turned toward Mattie, who had been watching them quietly, his eyes as wide as saucers.

  Ivy put her hand over his. “Hey, Mattie? Are you feeling up to telling us what happened?”

  He closed his eyes for a long moment. So long, Cade wondered if he’d gone back to sleep. But then they fluttered open.

  “Someone was following me,” Mattie said. “Someone in a truck. I was riding over to Kinley’s and heard someone behind me. I don’t know for how long, but he ran me off the road. My bike hit the curb, and I thought he was going to run me over. When I passed out, I thought I was dead. But whoever it was . . . they must have hit the brakes hard.”

  They all exchanged glances, and for a few moments, the only sound in the room was the buzz and hum of the machines and the quiet murmur of voices in the hallway.

  “Tyler,” Cade said finally, pacing the length of the room, “the cops are watching you. I don’t think they’re watching us, yet.”

  Ivy shifted uncomfortably.

  “The parole officer said he knew what you did, right? Not what we did.”

  “Excuse me?” Tyler blinked at Cade.

  “I’m saying that . . . well . . . it sounds like the cops are going to bring you in for the crime. And like it or not, Tyler, you were part of it. You’re going to get in trouble either way. I think the noble thing to do is take the fall.”

  Tyler stared at Cade for a one full second. And then he started across the room, his first raised.

  If there was one thing Cade had never lost, it was a fight. But he knew that Tyler wasn’t exactly a slouch either. He fell back into a defensive position, both fists raised. He didn’t want to beat Tyler’s ass in a hospital room, but he would.

  “Stop!” Mattie cried, but Tyler ignored him.

  Kinley jumped between the two, her hands raised. “Tyler didn’t do anything wrong, Cade!” she yelled. “Tyler, stop!”

  Cade stood on the other side of Kinley, his hands clenched into fists and his chest puffed out. “You want to go, Green? Bring it. I know you want one more thing on your record. But don’t worry. I’ll kick your ass and then my dad will sue your family. And he’ll win.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you, man?” Tyler said, his hands on his neck. “You are the whole reason we’re in this mess.”

  Cade’s head started to get clouded and fuzzy. He remembered this feeling.

  It was the same feeling he’d had right before he’d punched Stratford.

  And killed him.

  And all of a sudden, the fight went out of him. He bent over and rested his hands on his knees. “I’m sorry, man,” he said, breathless. “But we all had a part in this. All of us.” He looked up, at all of them. “But don’t think I wouldn’t hesitate to kill any of you if you try to pin this shit on me. We are in this together.”

  His head spun, and the air in the room felt thick. He stalked out, pushing through the door. He almost knocked into a nurse wearing blue scrubs and holding a big stack of papers. “Sorry,” he grunted.

  “Oh, honey,” she said, setting the papers at the nurses’ station and grabbing his arm. “Don’t you worry about it, okay? I know you’re upset about your friend.”

  Cade just looked at her. She had a wide, trusting face, lined with years and years of hard work. “I didn’t mean to,” he said.

  “I’m fine!” she said. “Don’t worry! See, I didn’t even drop the papers.” She smiled at him. “And listen, I’m on duty tonight so I’ll look in on your friend myself, but I can promise you he’ll pull through. Okay?”

  Cade nodded and gave her a smile. She wouldn’t be so kind to him if she knew the truth.

  He walked down, through the emergency entrance. He was parked in the lot closest to the emergency room. The one where they’d tow after four hours.

  He wasn’t worried about the towing. His stomach was roiling for another reason.

  Cade clicked the lock on his black Lexus. It wasn’t what he’d been driving earlier today, when he’d borrowed his father’s embarrassing monster truck from the garage and taken it out for a spin. His father hadn’t ever actually driven it—he’d won it in a charity auction for some tragically rare disease. It had been tucked away in the back of the garage. No one would even notice it had been moved. Probably.

  After all, he had only wanted to scare Mattie. To make him believe someone else had been following him.

  But then, he had seen the bike.

  The same bike Cade had stolen. The bike that was supposed to still be tucked away in Cade’s garage.

  And he had realized that maybe, just maybe, someone was messing with him, too. And he’d gotten a little carried away with frightening Mattie.

  So carried away that he had nearly committed murder number two.

  He’d yanked the wheel away just in time.

  Ivy

  Monday, June 29

  “How are you really feeling?” Ivy reached between the top and bottom rail and took Mattie’s hand. She squeezed it, very gently, hoping that her hand wasn’t shaking. He didn’t need to see how upset she really was.

  Mattie tried to smile at her. “I don’t feel much of anything, now. Maybe just . . . oddly shaped.” He motioned to his head.

  “Well, it looks like a giant potato.” Ivy smiled. “So if that’s the look you’re going for, then you’re golden.” She made the okay sign with her free hand.

  Mattie laughed. “I’m glad you
stayed.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, me too. My parents always get super excited when I’m out of the house. If I stayed out all night and partied, they’d probably give me an award.”

  “So I’m basically doing you a favor right now.”

  The side of Ivy’s mouth pulled up. “Hey, yeah, I forgot to thank you for getting stalked and almost dying. You did me a real solid there.”

  Mattie laughed again, and then winced.

  “Hey. You okay?” Ivy’s brow furrowed.

  He shrugged. “I’m not great. And I’m . . . I’m scared.”

  Ivy nodded. “Want honesty?”

  Mattie started to nod, then stopped. “Yeah.”

  “I’m scared too. And I really, really don’t want to be alone right now. So thanks for staying here with me.”

  Mattie motioned at his hospital bed. “Best choice I’ve made all week.”

  Ivy smiled at him. Really smiled. And for the first time since she’d started spending time with Garrett, her heart felt warm.

  She could see how pretty, popular, party boy Derrick had ended up with Mattie. He was really cute. He was shorter than her—that part sucked—but he was actually, well, kind of hot. His hair was cut into this stylish, shaggy ’do that accentuated his strong jawline. And he had stubble all over his cheeks for once, which was actually pretty attractive.

  He’s not even straight, Ivy reminded herself. And he has a boyfriend. Sort of.

  Mattie cleared his throat. She was pulled abruptly out of her reverie and realized Mattie was staring at her, too.

  “You know,” Ivy said, “other than the whole Mr. Potato Head look you’re currently rocking, you’re really cute. And if Derrick doesn’t realize that, it’s his loss.”

  “I always thought so too!” Mattie said.

  Ivy laughed. She really liked Mattie. He was a good friend. He was kind. And maybe the concussion had rattled something loose in him, or maybe that was what getting stalked and nearly killed by a stranger did to a person, but he seemed . . . relaxed.

  “Everything’s going to be okay, you know,” she whispered.

  “I do?” Mattie tried to smile.

  “Sure,” Ivy said. At least she wouldn’t be dragged into the police station again. It would be harder now, since her brother had brought her in without her parents’ knowledge and without a real reason or evidence. That was apparently a Big No-No in the police world, even when it was your little sister.

  Especially when it was your little sister.

  “You think Tyler’s going to narc on us?” Mattie asked.

  Ivy shook her head. “No. He’s not like that. Kinley . . . if she hadn’t actually tripped the guy, I’d be worried about her. But no.” Ivy looked down at him. “Mattie, do you have any idea who was following you? Any guesses at all?”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  It was then that Ivy finally gave voice to what she’d been thinking all night. “It wasn’t . . . it wasn’t Mrs. Stratford, was it?”

  Mattie shrugged. “It wasn’t her car. And if she’s driving that piece of junk, I don’t know where she’d get such a nice truck. It was really, really swank.”

  “Oh.” Ivy sat back a little, her only theory deflated. Who else had reason to suspect them? Had someone else been there, watching?

  “I’m scared to leave here,” Mattie confessed. He squeezed her hand tighter.

  “Me too.”

  He shifted. “And I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid we’re going to get caught, Ivy. With people following me, and Tyler’s parole officer saying he knows what happened . . .” Mattie shook his head. “Maybe we should come forward.”

  “No.” Ivy shook her head. “No way. If we were going to confess, we should have done it the first night. It’s too late now. And maybe . . . maybe Tyler’s parole officer was just trying to get him to confess to something. Cops do that, you know.”

  Her brother did that, at least.

  Plus, if she confessed, she couldn’t bear to think of the way her parents would look at her after they had stood up for her before.

  What her brother would do after the way she had embarrassed him.

  “This isn’t going to turn out well,” Mattie whispered. “One of us is going to turn up dead, Ivy.”

  Ivy drew her hands away and crossed them over her stomach. She rocked back and forth, a leftover nervous habit from when she was a little girl.

  “What do you think we should do?”

  Mattie paused. “What if . . . what if I just took the blame?”

  “What?” Ivy’s heart did a funny flip. Like she cared. Really cared. “No, Mattie. No. Why would you do that? You did nothing. You were pulled into the classroom. Pulled.”

  “I helped ditch the body, same as everyone else.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I could do it, easy. Besides, I’m the one being followed. Maybe, for whatever reason, whoever did it only suspects me. If I turn myself in, maybe it’ll all go away.”

  Ivy stood up. “No, Mattie. I’m not going to let you do it. Out of all of us, you’re the only one who deserves better.”

  “Maybe not,” Mattie said very quietly.

  “If you confess, I will too.” Ivy stood up and put her hands on her hips.

  “No way. I’ll say you weren’t involved.”

  “I’ll say you weren’t involved.”

  It was then that Ivy did something completely unexpected. She leaned over the railing and kissed Mattie.

  She kissed him on the lips.

  She kissed him harder than anyone was ever supposed to kiss people who had recently been admitted to the hospital.

  And he kissed her back. He kissed her back a lot more passionately than someone in a relationship should have been kissing someone else.

  And they most likely would have kept at it—if the door to the hospital room hadn’t swung open, and if Mattie’s aunt hadn’t walked in, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face as red as a ripe strawberry.

  She stopped in the middle of the room and gasped, her pudgy hand over her heart.

  Ivy jerked away from Mattie. “Sorry, Ms. Byrne,” she said, backing away. “Um, Mattie, I’ll . . . I’ll catch you later, okay? Uh . . . feel better.”

  “You don’t have to leave,” Ms. Byrne said kindly, but she was already looking at her nephew. “I see you’re feeling much better, young man.”

  Her cheeks burning, Ivy grabbed her handbag off of a chair and rushed out of the hospital room.

  It was only when she walked out the emergency room exit to the nearly empty lot that she remembered she was scared to be alone.

  Mattie

  Monday, June 29

  Mattie knew one thing in his heart: he deserved to go to prison. And maybe it wasn’t for an actual crime that he deserved it (if you didn’t count dumping a body, of course). It was for something else. Something so low he could never, ever forgive himself.

  Cheating on Derrick.

  Twice, now.

  Twice.

  Yes, Ivy was hot, but so were a lot of people. And yes, he was fuzzy from the concussion. But he’s sworn it up and down, every single day. He would never cheat again. Not on a test—which was why he was in this mess in the first place—and not on his boyfriend.

  His aunt was busy fluffing his pillow, which she had declared “too flat for hospital use” (as if that were an actual thing).

  “You like that girl?” she asked, a little smile sneaking around the corners of her mouth.

  “We’re just friends.”

  “Mmmmm.” She chuckled. “Looked like a good friend.”

  “Yeah. I guess.” Mattie felt like he had swallowed lead. His whole body was weighed down with guilt.

  She stopped fidgeting with his pillow and grabbed his shoulders, pushing him back onto it. “I was on the phone with your mother and father on the way here. Do you want them to come?”

  “No.” Mattie said it quickly. “Please, no. I don’t want them here.”

  “Can I ask why?” His aunt sat down in
the chair next to his bed. She crossed her legs and folded her hands over her knees. Mattie wondered when she’d become so perceptive.

  “Because I’m fine,” Mattie said. “I mean, look at me. I’m good. And because we both know my mother likes to make a bigger deal out of things than necessary.”

  His aunt looked at him sternly, her fingers tapping on her lips, and then her face split into a smile. “I’ll give you that. Your mother does like to make something of a scene. Well, okay. Let me step out to call and let them know you’re okay.”

  Mattie nodded. “Thanks.” His aunt pushed herself of out the chair and disappeared into the hallway, leaving Mattie alone with his thoughts.

  And his guilt.

  He had kissed Ivy. Tonight. And why? For what? Nothing was going to ever happen with Ivy. He liked her, sure. He actually liked Ivy a lot. Behind her mean girl exterior, she was actually pretty decent. And she was beautiful, sure—he was definitely attracted to her. But he could never be with her—because every time he saw her, he saw Stratford’s lifeless body.

  Murder was not a foundation on which great romances were built, unless you were Dexter or something.

  And there was Mattie’s other . . . transgression.

  Well.

  It had been a party.

  A party he was supposed to go to with Derrick.

  But Derrick called five minutes before he was supposed to be at Mattie’s house to pick him up, and he said he was sick. Only Derrick didn’t sound sick. He told Mattie he needed to stay in. That he’d catch up with him tomorrow.

  “Okay,” Mattie had said. “I hope you feel better.”

  Derrick had coughed, twice. “Thanks.”

  But Mattie had a feeling, a dark, twisted feeling, deep in his gut, and it was reaching up to curl around his heart. And he decided to go to the party anyway, to see if Derrick was there.

  So he’d walked in. Without Derrick.

  It was a vacation home near the woods, one that had been boarded up for some time. The entire place had the strange, sick smell of spilled beer and vomit that had never been properly cleaned up. Instead of carpet, the living room had AstroTurf. Loud music pounded through the house, rattling the glass in the window frames. A shattered television was perched precariously on a skinny bookshelf never meant to serve as a TV stand.