DEVON’S DOOR WAS OPEN. Funny, she’d left it closed before going to the library. Seething, she picked up her pace down the hallway. If Grant thought he could sneak in without her noticing, he was sorely mistaken. Devon would love to catch him red-handed. Would she turn him in right away? Or enjoy letting him simmer in his guilt for a day or two, knowing that he could be called to the headmaster’s office at any time?
She burst in, taking a breath to yell “Caught you!” but instead of Grant, she found Presley sitting on her bed next to Mrs. Sosa. They both looked worried, sad—guilty, even. “Pres? What’s up?” Devon asked. She dropped her backpack on the ground and noticed her dresser drawer was open. The drawer with the green bottles. Mrs. Sosa spoke as the dread snaked its way down Devon’s back.
Oh, God, no.
“Devon? We need to have a talk. Have a seat.” Mrs. Sosa said, slowly and quietly.
“Dev, I’m sorry. I thought you had my hoodie. I looked in your drawer and I saw the bottles.”
Mrs. Sosa pulled the plastic bag of the three green bottles onto her lap. Inside the bag was also the small bottle of Oxy from Isla and the stray blue Adderall pills she had taken from Isla’s dresser. When the photo of Isla and Hutch poked through behind the bottles, Devon thought she was going to throw up. How was she going to explain this? The book she had taken from Hutch’s room was still wedged into the back of her jeans. She could feel it press against her, getting sticky against her skin as she breathed. Presley had warned her to stop obsessing. Matt had said it, too. And now, here she was, looking so obviously like a complete psycho with even more damning evidence tucked in her pants! She would be sent to see … who exactly?
“I’ve already called Mr. Robins.…” Mrs. Sosa began. Oh yes, that’s exactly who they would send her to.
CHAPTER 14
Name: Devon Mackintosh
Session Date: Oct. 6
Session #3
Campus was typically quiet on a Saturday morning. A thick fog had settled around the Keaton hill. Devon couldn’t even see the adjacent mountainside from her window. She had bundled up in her thickest sweatshirt and sweats, and fluffy Uggs. Somehow looking presentable at this meeting didn’t seem like a priority. She had accepted her fate and knew the school would not look kindly upon any student hoarding items like she was. She also knew that the presence of Hutch’s photo in her stash made it worse. It made her a stalker, an obsessive, everything Presley had accused her of being.
Inside Mr. Robins’s office she found him sipping from a silver travel mug of coffee. His curly hair was still wet from a shower, but stubble formed a thin carpet along his chin and cheeks. Devon and Mr. Robins had something in common; they both knew this meeting was going to suck and hadn’t put on false airs for it.
“I don’t understand how this happened,” Mr. Robins began, without even bothering to say hello. He shoved his black-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose, only to have them slip down again. “You seemed to embrace the training. Your comprehension seemed well above what I had hoped.”
“I tried to follow the training guide as much as possible,” Devon added.
“I should have seen how much you were affected by Jason’s death. The denial. The anger.” He seemed to be talking to himself more than to her. “I just never expected it to go this far. The drinking, the pills.…”
“Mr. Robins. I told Mrs. Sosa. I didn’t drink from those bottles. I found them. Isla gave me those pills to protect herself. Well, not all of them, but I wasn’t taking them.”
He shook his head. “We have to shut the program down, Devon. We tried, but it’s not working. It was taking too much of an emotional toll on you. Plus, the video footage never amounted to anything. Bad connection or something.”
Even though she was being convicted of crimes she hadn’t committed, Devon still found herself feeling bad for Mr. Robins. His vision of this program had vanished into the bottom of a teenager’s found beer bottle. At least Devon knew that Raven’s video scrambler worked. She had protected the privacy of Matt and Isla and Cleo. That was something. “I don’t know if you were drinking, or if you were taking these pills. I can’t prove that, and I’m inclined to believe you here. But, you were still found with these items in your possession. I’ve already spoken to Headmaster Wyler and we’d prefer not to make the failure of the program public knowledge. You were clearly not prepared for such a demanding position in light of Jason’s death. You won’t be suspended.” He took a deep breath, letting the reprieve sink in. “The headmaster and I thought that twenty hours of yard work and the rest of the year under probation would be a sufficient consequence. And with that decided we can begin to put this business behind us.”
Devon’s cheeks burned. She knew he expected her to be relieved, grateful even. Instead, she was pissed off. She wasn’t some delicate flower, a basket case who’d fallen apart. She’d adhered to his training. Anything else was his fault. Except, none of that mattered now. Devon had gone too far. Hell, maybe she should have turned her notes over to Mr. Robins after their first sessions instead of thinking she could solve everything. Matt’s control issues, Isla’s addiction, Hutch’s murder.… But looking at Mr. Robins slurp coffee, she knew she was in a better position to help than he’d ever be.
“What happens with Matt, Isla, and Cleo?” She hated the idea of him trying to get Cleo to be happy, or to convince Isla that she didn’t need the drugs. They wouldn’t confide in him. It was that simple.
“I’ll continue the individual counseling,” Mr. Robins said. “Now’s the time to tell me anything I need to know about your subjects for their sessions. Anything you may have been hesitant to share before. It’s for the good of your subjects.”
She tried to make her face blank. If he wanted to paint her as incompetent, then that’s what she would be. But inside her head was a whirring factory that kept churning out more and more things she couldn’t tell Mr. Robins. Down the assembly line they went, little packages full of secrets: Matt was dealing drugs, Hutch had gotten someone pregnant, Isla and Matt were probably abusing pharmaceuticals together, Cleo was an obsessive gossip, the Health Center was far too easy to break in to, Mr. Robins’s camera did work if only she hadn’t intentionally messed with it.… Devon wished a bell would ring and the factory could shut down for the night. “I guess they’ll tell you everything you need to know,” she said as politely as she could.
“Now, I think you and I should schedule a few weekly sessions. Clearly you have not recovered from Jason’s suicide—”
“Murder,” she interrupted without thinking. It was not something she should have said out loud, but she refused to believe suicide was appropriate anymore.
“Suicide,” Mr. Robins came back. “This tells me where we need to start in therapy. You know, Devon, denial can be more powerful than we realize.”
“Hutch was murdered, Mr. Robins. And I’m going to prove it.”
“Devon, this is very disconcerting. This murder mystery you’ve invented is the clearest sign of your inability to move on from Jason’s death. It’s time to let him go. Would a trip home for a few days help? Maybe a check in with your mom?” Mr. Robins eyes studied every inch of Devon’s face. Was he looking for clues to how crazy she was?
Devon stood up. “I think our time is up, Mr. Robins. I’ll see you next week.”
PLAYING A LACROSSE GAME was not how Devon wanted to spend her Saturday afternoon. Crying alone in her room was her first choice. Not because she was watching everything she’d done as Peer Counselor go down the drain. No, there was also being blamed for the failure of the program itself. Taking the bus into Monte Vista and getting a double thick strawberry milkshake at the deli was a close second. Playing lacrosse didn’t even make the list.
“Hey, Ryan Slut-crest, you coming to the game?” Presley asked, her voice quieter than usual. She leaned in Devon’s doorway as Devon finished tying her cleats.
She pulled her laces tight with a terse, “On my way.”
&nbs
p; Presley hesitated. “How’d it go with Robins?”
“It was great. We talked the whole thing out, ordered brunch, then told knock-knock jokes.” Devon shot Presley a glare just in case she had missed her sarcasm. She grabbed her stick and marched out her sliding glass door.
“Dev, you know I’m sorry, right? I didn’t know what else to do,” Presley pleaded, catching up with her. “You would have done the same thing, you know it.” Presley walked sideways to look at Devon.
“I wouldn’t, though, Presley. That’s the thing,” Devon stopped walking. “If it was you, I would have come to you first. When Pete cheated on you last year, I told you. I didn’t wait to find out if he would or wouldn’t tell you the truth, I told you because you deserved to know. Just like I deserved to know if you were gonna rat me out to Mrs. Sosa.” Devon could hear her voice cracking. Being in trouble with Keaton stung enough, but having that perfect record shattered because her best friend turned her in … there would be no quick fix or easy forgiveness.
Presley bit her lip. “I tried, Devon. I tried to talk to you. But you don’t know how it’s been watching you. You’ve become totally obsessed with Hutch, while everyone else is trying really hard to move on.”
“I can’t, Pres. It’s not that easy.”
“You think it’s easy for any of us? We all miss him. But he’s gone and we have to keep living. You weren’t listening to me, you were off in your world that seemed to revolve around Hutch, and then I found that stuff in your drawer. Don’t hate me, seriously. I’m the only one that cared enough to do anything.”
Devon shifted her weight on her plastic cleats. “Yeah, well, I care, too. Still do.” She ran off toward the field. Maybe she was a nightmare to deal with right now. But she had her reasons. And she would prove them to Keaton.
THE BLEACHERS WERE LESS packed at this game. Either the thrill of the season opener had died down, or the arrest at the last game freaked everyone out.
Raven was tucked into her goal, defending warm-up shots from the Keaton team. Isla charged and took a fierce shot, aiming right for Raven’s chest. Raven deflected. Devon smiled. Good for her. Isla scooped up another ball and launched another shot over her shoulder. This one whizzed toward Raven in a blur with a splat! as it ricocheted off Raven’s chest plate.
“Ease up. It’s just a practice run,” Raven yelled. She rubbed at her padding; she was probably going to have a bruise from that shot. Isla didn’t hear her, or maybe she didn’t care. She lobbed another ball toward Raven’s shoulder. Raven managed to deflect again, but hobbled back. With a scream, Isla suddenly threw down her stick and charged. Devon’s jaw fell open. She could only stare, too shocked to react, as Isla tackled Raven to the ground. She ripped off Raven’s goalie mask.
“You stupid whore! I know it was you. I know it was you,” Isla growled. She slapped at Raven, pulled her hair, while Raven squirmed under her pinned to the ground.
“Isla, stop!” Devon finally came to her senses and dashed across the field. Luckily Maya swooped in and pulled Isla off Raven. Isla tried to push past her to tackle Raven again, but Maya held her back. Devon skidded to a stop just as Maya slapped Isla and pulled her close by her lacrosse shirt. “You leave her alone, Isla. It wasn’t her. Do you hear me? It wasn’t her.”
Isla took a few steps away. She glanced around, breathing heavily, her face flushed. Everyone stared at her. She looked back at Maya, confused, like she had suddenly landed in this spot, unaware of the last minute everyone else experienced. Maya repeated quietly, so only Devon and Isla could hear. “It wasn’t her, Isla.”
Devon stepped in. “Let’s get you to the Health Center, huh?” She reached a hand out to Isla, but Isla turned around and bolted—vanishing into the woods on the other side of the parking lot.
Mrs. Freeman walked Raven toward the team bench. “We still got a game, ladies,” she called, but even she sounded shaken. “Let’s get ready.”
Devon noticed Raven’s goalie pads were askew, strands of black hair stuck out of her ponytail, a red blotch was turning into a welt on her cheek. She turned back to Maya. “How did you know what she was talking about?”
“We both know it wasn’t Raven, don’t we?” Maya whispered. She brushed past Devon to the bench where Mrs. Freeman was gathering the team into a huddle. But Devon couldn’t move. We both know it wasn’t Raven.
CHAPTER 15
Sept. 10, 2010
Freshman Year
The cookie sailed past the metal coffee can and sent crumbs skidding across the floor.
“Take a sip,” Hutch said.
Devon held up her nearly empty glass of milk. “I can’t. So full.” Her eyelids were getting heavy; even the cold cement floor was starting to look like a comfortable bed.
“Better start making some shots then,” Hutch smiled at her and launched a piece of cookie into the canister. “Swish!” he said, arms raised to the ceiling, cheering his victory. “You’re not falling asleep on me, are you, Mackintosh?”
“No, not at all.” She tried to stifle a yawn. “Okay, maybe a little. What time is it?”
Hutch looked at his watch. “One twenty-seven in the morning.” He squeezed his eyes shut and then blinked several times. “We’ve been in here for what? Almost three hours.”
“They’re never going to find us. We’re going to be in so much trouble.” Devon couldn’t get through the sentence without yawning again. Her fatigue had become more overpowering than any fear about getting caught. She curled up on the floor, tucking her arm under her head as a makeshift pillow and allowed her eyes to close. “We should just give up and sleep here.”
“Here, use this,” Hutch said. He lay down behind her and shoved a paper towel roll under her head.
“Thanks.”
“You warm enough?” Hutch asked.
Even half-asleep Devon could tell this was a flirtatious hint. She smiled and opened one eye. “Why, you gonna keep me warm?”
“Only if you want me to.” Devon could hear the smile in his voice.
“Yeah, I want you to. But bring your own paper towel roll.” Hutch crawled across the floor toward her. Devon felt him wrap an arm around her waist; he pulled her close to him. She relaxed into his grasp, feeling his knobby knees behind her calves, his chest inhaling and exhaling, and his breath on the back of her head.
“Isn’t it weird that we just met?” Devon said.
“Technically we met earlier this week.”
“You know what I mean. Three hours ago I wasn’t sure if you knew my name. And now we’re here, like this, and it seems like it’s always been that way.”
“Yeah, like we’ve been here this whole time. Not, like, in the kitchen, but comfortable like this.”
“It’s nice.”
“It’s better than nice.” He ran his hand up the whole side of her body, stopping at her head to pull her hair back. He kissed her neck just behind her ear.
Devon opened her eyes. The flashing starbursts in her mind bled into the moonlight reflecting off the glossy floor. The locked metal door loomed large on the nearby wall. The metal hinge at the top caught the outside light. For the first time Devon saw words near the top of the door. REPLACE PIN TO UNLOCK.
“Replace pin to unlock?” she cried, suddenly wide awake. “Did you see that before?” Devon stood and scrambled to the door. She ran her hands along the frame. Hutch stood up and dug his hands into his pockets. “Maybe the pin fell out. I need your height over here,” Devon said. Fully stretched her arms couldn’t reach the v-shaped hinge at the top of the frame. “What? Did you see the pin or something?”
“Um.…” Hutch started, but Devon noticed he wasn’t making eye contact.
“Hutch. Did you see the pin?”
“It’s not like it matters anyways. Tino locked the door. We’re still stuck.”
“What do you mean, still? As in we weren’t stuck until Tino came along? Hutch? What aren’t you telling me?”
He reached into his pocket and fished out a slender m
etal pin with a loop at the top. He walked over and slipped the pin into the hinge. It fell into place easily. “That’s what I wasn’t telling you. I pulled it when you reached for the switch. I thought it’d be fun for a minute.”
“You thought it’d be fun to lock me in a kitchen?” Devon pressed herself against the door. Even with the pin in the hinge, the deadbolt still kept the door firmly closed. “Do you know how freaky that is?”
“I know, I know, I’m a total asshole. I was only going to let it go on for a few minutes, until we got the milk, just for fun. But then Tino came along and kind of made that decision for me. Devon, I’m not some creepy rapist guy, really.”
“This whole night then.…” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Didn’t want to finish the thought. Everything she had told him. Kissing him. It was all a lie. Feeling safe with him? Gone. She opened her mouth to speak but nothing would come out.
“Devon, seriously. Everything about tonight was true. I just wanted a little time alone with you without all of them getting in the way.”
The ripple of moonlight on the cement floor made Devon feel dizzy. She slid onto the floor. “You know what really sucks? Meeting you made me feel like I could survive here. Like everyone wasn’t always going to feel like a complete stranger and I had something to look forward to. But now … now all I can see is four years of being trapped with people I hardly know.” She glared at him. She wanted him to know that he would be just another cog in the Keaton wheel to her.
Hutch sat across from Devon on the floor. He took her hands in his. “I know I screwed up. I missed my opportunity like three hours ago to tell you the truth and then it was too late. But you gotta believe me, everything about tonight was true. I really like you, Devon. I thought I had a really cool plan until you figured it out and now I look like a total stalker freak.”
Keaton School 01: Escape Theory Page 21