“But you are part of the group, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“So what’s your role, then? Why do they call you ‘Captain’?”
He ran his fingers through his hair to push it out of his eyes. “’cause I’m the leader.”
I couldn’t have been more confused. “You know that what you just said makes no sense, don’t you? If you’re with them, why are you trying to help me?”
“’cause I don’t want them to get rid of you. I’m done messing with people’s lives. I can’t do that anymore.”
“Do what?”
“I’ve been with these guys for three years,” he said. “We control everything. We decide who’s popular and who isn’t, even who can walk with whom in the halls. And I’m just tired of it all. I’m not going to do it anymore.”
He seemed legitimately upset. I stepped back and looked at him. This must be an act—an act to get me to trust him. “You must belong to the Theater Club, Barrett. That was quite a performance,” I said before storming off.
Chapter 11
I spent the rest of the weekend trying to forget my conversation with Sam Barrett. I’d decided he was a liar, and that was that. On Monday, I put my focus on schoolwork. I read The Count of Monte Cristo while I ate lunch. I carefully took notes in Chemistry.
I was waiting to hear hall gossip about my “intoxicated state” Friday night, but it seemed to be business as usual with the boys—ignore me, ignore me, ignore me. For once, the silence made me happy. It was certainly nicer than the alternative. Maybe Sam had put a stop to some drama in the making, but I wasn’t going to take any chances by talking to him.
For the next few weeks, I went for extra after-school Trig help with Mr. Moesch on those days when I didn’t have gym work to do. I kept to myself, studied in my alcove, and was in bed before ten each night. Report cards were going to be issued after we got back from Thanksgiving vacation, which couldn’t come soon enough for me.
My dad came up on the Wednesday before Turkey Day. I fell into his arms and smiled when I saw him come through the front door of the Richardses’. I slept in the car the whole way home and didn’t get up until ten the next day, waking up only because Dan came in and jumped on my head.
“T, you’re home!” he said, jabbing his elbow into my side.
“Give me a break, Dan. I’m trying to sleep.”
He threw a pillow at my head. “Come on, get up.”
I rolled over and put the pillow over my head.
“Uh-oh, what’s this?” he said, grabbing my arm. “Have you been juicing?”
“What?”
He held up my arm. I was wearing my Evansville High tank top. “Your arms are jacked. Woo!” he said. “Dad, I think Taylor is using those performance enhancing drugs over at Hazelton!” he yelled down the stairs.
“I’m not,” I said, laughing. “I just don’t have much to do up there except study and work out.” I threw the pillow back at him.
“Come on, Hercules. We’re going to Grandma’s in an hour and Dad said you have to make your famous pumpkin pie.”
“Dan, you know we just buy that from Wegman’s, don’t you?”
“Mmm. Nothing like home cooking.”
“You’re an idiot,” I said. “Now get out so I can get dressed.”
Grandma Jen’s was packed with relatives. My dad had two brothers and two sisters, and I had ten cousins. They were as young as four and as old as twenty. The day was always loud and crazy, and it was just what I needed after the long first few months at Hazelton.
Over pumpkin pie, I made Hazelton sound great, and parts of it were. I told everyone how beautiful the campus and the town were and about how smart all of the teachers were, all of which was true. I raved about working with the pitching coach.
I didn’t mention what had happened to Gabby, or the evil boys looking to force me out before baseball season. I didn’t want to let my dad know, either. I could see the pride in his face as everyone asked me about school. I wasn’t going to ruin it for him.
Later that night, I was back in my old room, online, checking e-mail. Justin and I had been e-mailing once every few weeks or so, but I hadn’t written in a while. I spilled my guts to him about the situation at Hazelton. I had to tell somebody, and with him safely across the Atlantic Ocean, I figured it couldn’t get back to my dad. I hit send and wondered what his advice would be. I pictured him flying back home to rescue me and challenging the Barrett boys to a duel to defend my honor. But I knew that wasn’t Justin’s style. He was more of a ride-it-out kind of guy, but it was nice to fantasize for a minute.
My instant message chimed, bringing me back to reality. It wasn’t one of my buddies. A window popped up, asking me to accept or block the message. I didn’t recognize the screen name, SJB04068. Maybe Justin had changed his name after settling in Europe. I hit accept.
SJB04068: Hi Taylor, it’s Sam.
Shoot. Big mistake. And now he has my screen name! I might as well just make it easy for him and drop out of Hazelton.
TDPITCHER: What do u want?
SJB04068: Happy Thanksgiving to you too.
I didn’t respond. I just leaned back in my chair and stared at the screen. Maybe he would stop sending messages if I didn’t answer.
SJB04068: I was hoping we could try to talk again.
TDPITCHER: Why won’t u just leave me alone?
SJB04068: I have for the past three weeks. I thought maybe you’d have cooled off by now.
I tried to be meaner.
TDPITCHER: Let me make this clear. I don’t TRUST u and I don’t want to talk to u.
SJB04068: Okay. But before I go, did you see your grades yet? They’re posted on the school web page.
TDPITCHER: No. I didn’t want to ruin my Thxgiving, but thanks for reminding me.
SJB04068: Listen, if you need help in Trig, I’m pretty good at it.
TDPITCHER: How’d u know about my Trig grade?
SJB04068: I told you before, I know everything that goes on at school.
TDPITCHER: Goodbye Sam.
SJB04068: Wait. Come on. Let me make up for what happened at the Halloween dance. I could help you with your math.
TDPITCHER: So u admit to drugging me now?
SJB04068: I told you before it wasn’t me.
TDPITCHER: Whatever, Captain.
SJB04068: Let me tutor you and I’ll tell you everything. The whole truth, I promise.
TDPITCHER: So until now u’ve been lying?
SJB04068: If you consider not telling the whole story lying, then yes.
TDPITCHER: Bye Sam.
I hit “sign off” and slammed the door on him. I quickly logged onto the school website to see how bad my Trig grade was. Probably anything less than an A was a bad grade to Sam Barrett, master of the universe.
And there it was, a C-minus. The minus meant my average was too low to play ball if the season started today. I had one marking period to bring it up or there was really no point staying at Hazelton. I was sure come Monday I would have to meet with the headmaster to discuss my grades. I’d probably be on probation or something. C’s at Hazelton are probably like F’s at my old school.
My other grades weren’t as bad as I had expected: B’s in English and History, a C+ in chemistry. I guess I needed some help in that subject, too. I got an A in Spanish, which wasn’t difficult since I grew up in Evansville, where almost half the kids in my school were from Puerto Rico. I’d been hearing Spanish since kindergarten.
I stared at the screen. To be honest, if this were a report card from my old high school, I would have been very proud of myself. I usually didn’t get anything above a C. Of course, this was also the first time I had ever really tried to study, and I felt proud of the two B’s I got. I actually did read that novel for English, and I enjoyed reading it. That was probably because the guy framed by the people he most trusted breaks out of prison and gets revenge on all of them.
A pop-up came on the screen telling me I had
a new e-mail. I opened it. It was a reply from Justin. He wrote just a few sentences, but it was enough to make me feel better.
T,
These guys sound weak. You’re stronger than all their crap. You’ll be fine. You always are. I’m here if you need me.
Keep in touch,
J
Maybe I could turn this thing around on the boys at school. Maybe I could get them before they got me. Hmm, doubtful.
I was curious about what Sam meant by not telling me the whole truth. What had happened that night? It was a horrible thing not to know what I was doing for all those hours, only to wake up confused in the enemy’s dorm room.
I could meet with Sam just to find out what happened. I would have to be careful, though. I should set the time and place, and not give him much notice, so he wouldn’t have time to inform the stupid Statesmen.
On the ride back up to Hazelton that Sunday night, I had a long talk with my dad. I hadn’t planned on it, but he brought it up.
“So, what are we going to do about that C-minus in math?” he said.
“I was afraid you were going to ask me about that.”
“Truth is, honey, you’ve got one more marking period to make it work. If you want to apply to college, you need to start doing so in January, after your next report card comes out. And if you don’t bring your grades up, you won’t be able to play—”
“I know. I’m sorry if I let you down, Dad,” I said. “It’s just hard up there.”
He rambled on about how hard it was to live away from home and be independent, but I knew those things weren’t my problem. In my head, I began to blame the whole thing on Sam and the Statesmen, but it wasn’t their fault. They hadn’t really done anything to keep me from studying, unless you counted that one night.
“I’m not going to lie to you and say I’m going to try to do better next marking period,” I said.
He was shocked. “You’re not?”
“No, I’m not going to say I’m going to try to do better anymore.”
“What are you going to say, then, young lady?”
“I’m just going to do better. Period.” Right then, I decided I was going to fix everything: my grades, my attitude, and the Statesmen’s plot to get me thrown out of school. Somehow, just as Justin said, I would make everything okay.
He leaned over and patted me on the back. “Now, that sounds like the best idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh, and I forgot to mention one last thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I signed you up for the SATs—second Saturday in December.”
I looked out at the long road ahead and nodded.
Chapter 12
I put my game face on first thing Monday morning. I was determined to accomplish two things by the end of the week: get an A on my upcoming quiz in Trig and find out what Sam Barrett had lied about. But I wasn’t going to let this second goal distract me from focusing on the first. Doing better at Hazelton was, after all, my last real shot at college.
I came up with a plan for taking Barrett by surprise. I conveniently picked up his sweatshirt that he had left on one of the gym benches, then waited for him outside after practice, assuming he would come back to look for it and, I hoped, return alone.
I stood at the end of the hall next to a faculty bathroom, which was always unlocked so I could use it after workouts. I heard him approaching, so I hung the sweatshirt on the doorknob, stepped inside the bathroom, and waited. When his footsteps were close, I swung the door open quickly and pulled him inside, using the arm of the sweatshirt.
“What the—?”
I slammed the door and flicked on the light, holding the sweatshirt hostage in my arms. “Sam, thanks for coming. Have a seat,” I said, pointing to the toilet.
He looked surprised, but at the same time sort of happy. He smiled at me. “Nah, I’m good,” he said, and remained standing. “What’s going on, Dresden? I thought you didn’t want to talk to me.”
“Frankly, I don’t, but my curiosity got the best of me. That’s why I arranged this little meeting.”
He looked around at the small, green-tiled bathroom. “Nice choice of venue.”
“Thanks. So spill it,” I said, crossing my arms.
“Spill what?” he asked.
“You said you would tell me the whole truth.”
“I believe I said I would tell you the whole truth if you agreed to let me tutor you in Trig,” he said.
“I appreciate the offer and the good will, and I understand you feel bad about drugging me and all, but I don’t need a tutor,” I said. “So I’ll just take the truth.”
He squinted and looked up, thinking. “Nah,” he said, “I still want to do the tutoring thing. It’s the least I can do.”
“Truth, Barrett,” I said, cracking my knuckles.
“Tutor,” he said in a teasing tone.
“Truth.” I was getting annoyed.
“You are a feisty one, aren’t you?” he asked with a smirk.
“Why do you care so much about tutoring me? Honestly, if this is a part of the great Statesmen’s plot to get me thrown out of here, you’re making it way too obvious.”
“I told you I’m not doing that stuff anymore,” he said as he stared down at his shoes, like a little boy put in the corner for a time-out.
“So you quit the group?”
“I can’t quit. They’d do worse to me than they want to do to you. No one has ever quit before. So I’ve just quit mentally.”
“Well, aren’t you the noble soldier?” I said.
“Listen, if I tell you the truth, then will you at least consider letting me help you with Trig?”
“Okay, I’ll consider it,” I lied.
He looked around. “Could we at least walk outside?”
“Aren’t you afraid to be seen with me?”
“No. People will just assume I’m setting you up,” he said with a shrug.
“Right, including me.”
“Where’s the trust, Dresden?” He held up his arms like a suspect looking to get patted down.
“Uh, it was lost somewhere between the gym and your dorm room.”
He opened the door. “Shall we?” he said, gesturing and allowing me to go first. All right, so maybe walking with him won’t hurt anything. Besides, it was hard to resist his gorgeous stupid face smiling at me and his perfect hands holding open a door for me.
Man, I miss Justin. This being-mean-to-Sam thing would be so much easier if I still had a boyfriend around to keep my hormones in check. I’ll just try to picture Sam as what he is—an ugly pig.
It was cold that day, so there weren’t many people around when we got outside. The leaves were gone from the trees, and I quickly zipped up my fleece jacket, bracing myself for the wind.
He took off his knit hat. “You want this?”
I pushed his hand away. “No, stop trying to be nice to me,” I said. “I don’t like you, remember?” Yeah, that’ll show him.
He put the hat back on. “Right, sorry.”
I decided to head back toward the Richards house, since it was my territory. “Whenever you’re ready to talk, I’m all ears,” I said.
“Okay,” he said with a sigh. “So the truth is I do know who drugged you.”
I knew it! “Okay, so who was it?”
“My brother Ben. He slipped something into your soda can while you weren’t looking,” he said. Wow, he’s throwing his own twin brother under the bus.
I remembered talking to Ben by the refreshment table that night. That jerk! He was acting like he was Mr. Nice Guy, and I even thought he might actually be hitting on me. I was such a fool. But all I said was, “Why?”
“Statesmen’s orders.”
“But I thought you were their leader,” I said, rubbing my temple.
“I am,” he said quickly.
“So whose idea was drugging me?”
“Tuttle’s.”
“Didn’t he have to
okay it with you?”
“I wasn’t at that meeting. I pretended I had to see one of my teachers, so the decision was made by the second-in-command.”
“And that is?”
“My brother.”
“Okay, but you still knew about it, right?” I said.
“Not until that night,” he said, sounding sincere.
“And you didn’t try to stop it, did you?”
“By the time I found out, Ben had already slipped the stuff into your drink.” He stopped walking and turned. Looking me in the eye, he said, “I’m really sorry, Dresden. As soon as I knew, I followed you and made sure I got you out of there so they couldn’t complete the rest of their plan.”
I had to know. “What was the rest of the plan?”
“They were going to take some, uh, pictures of you.”
“Doing what?!”
“Let’s just say they wouldn’t make your parents too proud.”
I was fuming. “And then what?” I said. “They were going to show them to the school officials, or to students?”
“Anybody and everybody.”
This was definitely the last conversation I wanted to have with Sam Barrett. But I had to hear the rest. “Still listening,” I said coldly.
“Anyway, once he drugged you, I snuck out and followed you into the hall. After you passed out, I carried you back to my dorm. I sent a text to the guys saying you had managed to stumble back to Dr. Rich’s, and they called off the rest of the plan.”
We were standing in front of my Hazleton house. A few guys were looking at us from a distance. “Well, you’re quite the hero,” I said, my arms crossed tightly across my chest. I couldn’t get out of my head the image of him carrying me.
“I’m not asking for your gratitude here, Dresden. I’m apologizing for being involved at all. I know you probably think I’m a jackass, but I truly am sorry, and if there is anything I can do for you—”
I put up my hand. “Anything you can do for me? Anything you can do?” I said, raising my voice. I stepped up toward the door. “What you can do, Sam Barrett, is leave me alone.” I climbed the first step to the house, and then turned back to him. “And one more thing. Tell your friends to watch out. Because if they ever face me on the ball field, first chance I get, I’ll take out their kneecaps.” I slammed the door in his face.
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