“You don’t understand men, then. Plenty of loving husbands have a sidepiece. And your sister is very pretty.”
“This conversation is starting to creep me out,” Rose said. She was about to get up again, but Zach waved her down.
“I have proof,” he said.
“What proof?”
“I saw him kiss her. When she was in the infirmary, the day after the slipper attack.”
Rose’s jaw dropped. “Kiss her, like, how?”
“He sat on her bed. It was a romantic kiss.”
“You were in the room?”
“No. I was—outside.”
“Were you spying?”
Zach blushed. “I wanted to visit Bel, but they said no visitors. So, I went around the back. I was going to knock on the window and say hi. Instead, I saw that.”
“You saw Mr. Donovan kiss Bel, in a romantic way?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute, I’m not buying this. Why would you even visit her?”
“What do you mean?”
“You say Bel sent you that Snapchat the night before. You already knew she did something that could get you into trouble. So why visit her?”
He blushed deeper. “I guess, well, honestly—I don’t know. I’m a sap?”
“This sounds fishy. And I still don’t get what it has to do with me.”
“Rose, whatever’s going on between Bel and Donovan is happening inside Moreland Hall, at night.”
“Wow, you’ve really thought about this.”
“Yes, and you should, too. It’s not good for her. You could find out what’s really going on.”
“You want me to spy on my sister.”
“I’m asking you to help me figure out what the truth is. If Donovan’s sleeping with a student, a vulnerable young girl, he should be made to stop, don’t you agree? And if I had real evidence, like a picture or something, I could—” He stopped.
“You could what?”
“I could get Donovan to back off me.”
“To back off you?”
“Yes. Otherwise, he’s going to expel me.”
“You want me to spy on my sister, get a photo of her having—ugh, sex—with a teacher. And not just any teacher. The dean of students, the head of my dorm. Then you want me to give you the photo, so you can blackmail him into not punishing you for sharing a nude video of my roommate, that made her leave school.”
“When you put it that way, it sounds bad, but—”
“Yeah, no. I’m leaving.”
Rose stood up.
“I’m a nice person, really,” Zach said, walking backward in front of her as Rose headed for the door. “I hope you’ll think about it. We could talk more. Get to know each other. I’d like for us to be friends. Rose, please? We have a lot in common. I could message, or FaceTime you. We could grab coffee.”
She laughed bleakly as she stepped around him into the hallway. The boy she’d been crushing on all year finally wants to call her, and it’s about this? What the hell, maybe she should let him. Her life was out of control already. She might as well get something out of it.
“Go ahead,” Rose said. “It’s a free country.”
26
December
It was only because Bel received a card in the mail from Grandma with a check for a hundred dollars inside that she remembered it was her birthday. She was turning sweet sixteen. But she didn’t feel much like celebrating, and even if she had, there was nobody to celebrate with.
It was the middle of finals week, cold and snowy out, and people were busy. They bustled by without saying hello. After Darcy left school, the seniors had let Bel know she wasn’t welcome at their table in the dining hall. When that first happened, she kicked around the New in search of another home, randomly sitting with kids from her classes or from cross-country. Everybody seemed to look askance at her, and who could blame them, given her sketchy reputation. Finally, Bel gave up, and passed her mealtimes alone in the Quiet Nook, an alcove in the Commons where you could go to read or study while you ate. It was a gloomy spot where geeks and psychos lurked, but nobody bothered her there. Bel ate her birthday dinner in the Quiet Nook, with her geometry textbook open in front of her for company, silent and alone.
When she’d finished and was walking through the New to take her tray to the conveyor belt, Bel spied Rose at one of the sophomore tables, sitting between Emma Kim and Zach Cuddy. Since when were Rose and Zach friends? There was a cupcake in front of Rose with a lit candle stuck in it. Bel watched her sister blow out the candle, smiling as Emma clapped and Zach rubbed her back. An electric-green bolt of jealousy shot through her. By rights, they ought to be Bel’s friends, not Rose’s. Yet, she had to admit, it was her own fault they weren’t. She’d squandered them. She’d made big mistakes, and her life at Odell was off the rails. But since she couldn’t see a way to salvage it, why not double down?
Bel hadn’t seen Heath alone since he’d visited her in the infirmary on that dreamlike afternoon, nearly a month ago now. She’d given up cross-country because of her knee injury, which meant giving up her solo runs with him. And since becoming dean of students, Heath had been too busy to find time for an advisor meeting. They’d exchanged cell numbers, and Heath had called her, unexpectedly, over Thanksgiving break. That had been wonderful, until he started talking funny, and she realized he’d been caught in the act. He hung up abruptly, and when she got back from break, he told her they needed to stay away from each other because people were starting to talk. She tried to be understanding, but it was hard. When she called him now, his phone went straight to voicemail. If she asked to meet with him alone, he made an excuse to avoid her. She thought nonstop about the time he kissed her, to the point that the memory had become faded from overuse. It was her birthday and the only thing she wanted was for Heath to kiss her again. To make that happen, she’d have to take matters into her own hands.
Bel knew where he usually sat to eat dinner—in the area they called the faculty corner, with his family. She scraped her plate, and dumped it on the conveyor belt. Then she fluffed her hair, squared her shoulders and marched over there to find him.
She put her hand on his shoulder, and he turned. From the corner of her eye, she caught the shocked look on his wife’s face. But Bel was entitled; this was her advisor, and she needed advice.
“Mr. Donovan?”
“Bel. Hello. What can I do for you?” he asked, alarm in his eyes.
“I have an important question about the final paper. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Certainly.”
“Alone?”
“Oh. All right. Excuse me, I’ll be right back,” he said to the table, which was full of faculty and their children.
He followed her toward the vestibule where the coatracks were. Heads turned as they walked through the dining hall together. Bel knew they were the subject of gossip. She liked that; Heath probably didn’t. Too bad, he shouldn’t have encouraged her, then.
They stopped between the coatracks. Hidden from view by puffer jackets and parkas, she turned to him.
“What is it? Is everything all right?” he asked, frowning.
“Today’s my birthday.”
“Happy birthday. You really can’t come up to me like that. It’ll make people wonder.”
“I wanted to see you. You never take my calls.”
“Bel,” he said, shaking his head.
“When can I see you?” she pleaded.
A kid getting his jacket looked at them with frank curiosity.
“I can’t do this here,” he said.
“Then tell me when and where to meet you, and I’ll go away now.”
“Tonight. Meet me in the laundry room in the basement of Moreland. Two a.m. That’s late enough that the dorm will be asleep.”
She nodded, and he turned and walked away.
Bel found her coat amidst the others on the rack. She shrugged it on and stepped out into the frosty night air, feeling like she was
floating. Two a.m. Two a.m. I’m meeting Heath at two a.m.
A strange feeling made her turn and look back over her shoulder at the dining hall. Through the plate-glass window, she saw Zach Cuddy standing in the vestibule where she and Heath had stood a moment before. He was staring after her, and a chill ran down the back of her neck. But she was being silly. With the glare of bright light on the inside of the window, Zach probably couldn’t even see her. He was staring at his own reflection, that was all. Bel put Zach out of her mind, and headed to the library, where she would do her best to concentrate on studying for finals, not because she cared about her grades, but because she needed to pass the slow, endless hours until her meeting with Heath.
* * *
Bel slipped silently out of her room just before two, making sure not to wake Emma. Outside the windows on the landings, snow fell steadily. Inside, all was quiet, except for the creaks and sighs of the old building. She used the flashlight on her phone to find her way down the stairs to the Moreland basement. The laundry room was creepy—pitch-dark and smelling of mold and dust—and her flashlight threw crazy shadows up on the walls. Bel had never been down here before, since Grandma paid for a laundry service. She sent her clothes out each week and got them back, pressed, folded and dry-cleaned, hanging on racks in the common room along with those of the other rich girls. Thankfully. Given the creepy state of the laundry room, she would hate spending time down here just to get laundry done. But a secret tryst was another matter. For that, this place was perfect.
She heard Heath’s footsteps before she saw him. He walked into the laundry room and flipped on the light. He was wearing faded jeans, and a gray T-shirt that clung to his shoulders and chest. His hair was mussed, like he’d just come from his bed—which, presumably, he had. She’d never seen him dressed so casually, and he looked gorgeous.
“You’re standing here in the dark?” he said.
“I thought that’s what I’m supposed to do. Aren’t we having a secret rendezvous?”
“Is that what this is?” he said, walking up to her.
She was trying to sound jokey, but he seemed almost angry. Her heart started pounding so hard that the front of her camisole twitched.
“I was hoping,” she said. “It is my birthday.”
“How old are you?” he asked.
“Sixteen.”
“Well. That is the age of consent in this state,” he said.
“Are you all right? You seem—”
“What?”
“Mad at me.”
“Do you know what you’re doing to me? Ever since I got caught talking to you on the phone, I’ve been afraid of what might happen. I tried to put you out of my mind. I can’t. Then you come up to me in the dining hall tonight, so brazen. God, that was crazy, Bel. You can’t do that.”
He took her by the waist and pushed her backward till she banged up against a counter that was used for folding clothes. He grabbed her and lifted her up onto it.
“What are you doing?” she said, her voice shaking.
“You asked to be alone with me. Isn’t this what you want? It’s what I want.”
He put his hands in her hair and yanked her head back, and started kissing her neck roughly, until she moaned. It hurt, but it also felt good. Just like that afternoon in the infirmary, she was in a dream state. This couldn’t be happening. She didn’t know what she’d expected, but not that he’d actually have sex with her. How could he? He was her teacher. But when he pressed against her, he was hard.
“If you want me to stop, tell me now,” he said.
His voice was harsh, like it belonged to a different person. She did want him to stop, or at least slow down. But if she said that, he might leave, and she didn’t want that, either. Before she could decide what to say, his hands were on her breasts. He kneaded them roughly through her Henley, as his mouth closed on hers, and his tongue pushed in. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe. His hands moved to her hips now, and he tugged her leggings down, her panties coming along with them. She’d hooked up with boys before—on the beach back home, with Zach in the woods after that dance. But hooking up in Bel’s parlance just meant making out, or heavy petting. Bel was still a virgin, and this didn’t feel right. But it was happening. She heard rather than saw him unzip his jeans. There was a snapping sound as he pulled on a condom—he’d planned for this. Before she could protest, he grabbed her bare legs and pulled her toward him, then plunged inside her. She cried out, and he slapped a hand over her mouth. A movement in her peripheral vision caught her attention. She turned to look, and could’ve sworn she saw somebody duck out of the room. Heath hadn’t noticed. His eyes were closed, and he had a look of rapture on his face as he moved against her. Then he groaned, and it was over.
“You okay?” he whispered, standing up straight.
She nodded, but there were tears in her eyes. He stepped back and looked at her appraisingly.
“Was that your first time?” he asked.
You’d think he would’ve asked her that before. She nodded again. He turned away and rearranged his clothing.
“I’m sorry if I was rough,” he said, turning back to her. “You’re so beautiful, I got carried away. Next time will be better. I’ll take you somewhere that we can be alone, properly. Where we can talk. Somewhere with a bed. I’ll show you things, make sure it’s good for you, too, okay? C’mere.”
He took her in his arms and kissed her softly, first on the forehead, and then the lips.
“I’m crazy about you,” he said.
She sighed and leaned against him as he stroked her hair. Bel realized that this was really what she’d wanted. To be held and caressed and kissed by him. To be petted and cared for, and seen. She’d wanted that, not the roughness, not the sex, not this man she didn’t know, so different from the one she’d been fantasizing about.
“Now, go back to your room,” he said. “And don’t tell anybody.”
He left. Bel stayed in the laundry room alone for a while—how long, she couldn’t’ve said. Maybe five minutes, maybe ten. She was trying to wrap her head around what had just happened, and how she would go on from there. Finally, she dragged herself back up to the third floor, where she went into the bathroom, took a long, hot shower and cried. Maybe none of that actually happened, she thought to herself. But the ache in her body told her it was real.
27
Sarah was happy at the moment the girl walked up to Heath in the dining hall. She would remember that later.
The Donovan family was having dinner in the faculty corner with the Mendezes—Eduardo, who taught social studies, his wife, Mercedes, who worked in admissions, and their four-year-old son, Diego, who went to the on-campus day care with Harper and Scottie. The Mendezes were fun, young, witty, stylish. Having dinner with them was one of the best things about moving on campus. The faculty corner looked out through big windows over the lawn behind the New. Outside, the snow was falling, and it got them talking of sledding and skiing. Harper and Diego were making a snowman from mashed potatoes, with peas for the buttons and eyes. The grown-ups were having a good laugh over the time Heath tried to teach Eduardo (who hailed from Miami) to ski. Then Sarah turned around, and Bel Enright was standing there with her hand on Heath’s shoulder, looking into his eyes, asking to talk to him alone. The way he looked back at her—Sarah’s heart stopped. The whole world stopped. She watched them walk from the dining hall together, saw heads turn to follow them. Caught the alarmed glance that Eduardo and Mercedes exchanged.
Was something really going on, then? Did everyone in the school know about it but her? She couldn’t really claim not to know, not after overhearing that phone call Thanksgiving weekend. When she asked who was on the phone, Heath lied to her. If that wasn’t a sign, what was?
But. He’d been so devoted since then that she had put it out of her mind. He’d been loving toward Sarah. Adorable with the kids—getting their breakfast every morning, pulling them to day care on the sled, with the dog cavort
ing along behind. He made a fire in the fireplace every night after the kids went to bed, and they’d sit and watch it crackle while they graded papers, or ordered Christmas presents online. Their life together felt real, normal, good. Now, this. She didn’t want to believe it. She didn’t have to believe it. A student seeks you out at dinner to ask a simple question. That could happen. It didn’t need to mean anything drastic. And the phone call over Thanksgiving—it was probably nothing. She could have misheard. At most, maybe there was a silly little flirtation. Nothing that needed to shake her world.
“Diego’s tired,” Eduardo said to Mercedes, although there was no evidence of this in the boy’s behavior. “We should go.”
The Mendezes got up and collected their trays.
Mercedes stopped at Sarah’s chair and gave her a concerned look. “If you need anything, you know you can call me, right?”
“Oh, sure. Likewise! You can always call me, too,” Sarah said, with forced heartiness. Mercedes nodded, puzzlement in her eyes, and turned away.
Sarah hated to be pitied, especially over something that wasn’t proven. It might not actually be true. Her life might not be over; her marriage might not be a charade. Sarah instinctively felt the need to defend Heath to their friends. Innocent until proven guilty. Besides, if there was truly something wrong, somebody would have said something by now. Right? But Sarah was quiet and introverted, raised in a proper Yankee household. She didn’t discuss private matters with anyone, so nobody felt comfortable approaching her. Heath was the only person she really talked to. If she couldn’t trust him, then she was alone.
Heath came back, carrying a plate of brownies for the kids. Normally, Sarah would protest that it was too late in the day for sugar. But she was too numb with panic to care about the routine. Heath passed out the brownies and sat down. As he joked around with the kids, his manner was off, his voice full of false cheer. They were alone at the table. Sarah glanced around, pitching her voice low so nobody would overhear.
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