And I don’t even know why I feel guilty, because he’s the one who drove someone off the road.
Caleb gives my thigh a gentle squeeze. If he only knew that the weight of his palm was keeping me tethered to this seat.
I want to tell him everything about what happened that day, but I can’t. It’s not that I don’t trust him, but if Dr. O ever finds out I let Grayson go, I’ll be out of Vale Hall and back on the south side.
And I am never going back.
I shift my focus back to the turn at the end of the lot, moving my foot slowly from the brake to the gas pedal. We jump forward five feet, and Caleb laughs weakly.
“How’d you do on the test anyway?” I ask, trying to diffuse the tension in my chest. To come back to this car, with him, where it’s safe.
He looks back at the corner of the building, his lips pulling in a straight line. “Okay, I guess.”
I was nervous, although admittedly Shrew—or Mrs. Shrewsbury, as she’s technically called—was just having me take the test as a baseline. It’s Caleb’s second time, and his score was pretty high the first round. Still, Shrew wants him to get into a prestigious college for premed, which means every point matters.
“Just okay?”
I glance again at his ink-stained fingers, reminded of the buildings he sketches when no one else is looking. A good score shouldn’t hurt if he goes out for architecture, either.
“Could have used Sam on the math section.”
Our fellow students have special abilities. Sam can score a perfect sixteen hundred on the SATs. We know this, because before Vale Hall, he made a nice little income taking it for other people.
Of course, it landed him in jail, but you can’t win them all.
Our original parking spot comes into view, only instead of it being empty like before, there’s a man standing between the white brackets wearing a black button-down shirt, slacks, and a look that spells certain doom.
I slam on the brakes.
A boy in dark jeans and a plaid shirt appears behind Hugh Moore, waving frantically and pointing toward the security guard as if we don’t already see him. Henry looks a lot cheerier than last night, when he was surrounded by wads of scratch paper and balled up chip bags, screaming at everyone to use their “inside voices” so he could memorize a few more word associations.
Caleb checks his phone. “So much for the warning call.”
A second later the driver’s door is ripped open, and Moore is standing in the gap, one open hand extended toward me.
“Keys,” he says between his teeth. I put the car in park and place them in his hand, now unable to remember why I thought this was a good idea.
“So…” I start, but Caleb interrupts.
“My fault, officer.” He leans across the seat, every part the cocky con I’ve seen on the job. “I told her she needs to get her license before we graduate.”
That’s actually what I told him when I jumped into the driver’s seat. By the look on Moore’s face, he’s guessed as much.
“Next time you decide to commit grand theft auto, take someone else’s car.” He juts a thumb toward the backseat, mad, but not get-us-expelled mad.
Caleb and I navigate to the back, keeping a good three feet between us. He crosses his arms and lowers his chin to his chest, the picture of repentance.
“Sorry,” I whisper.
His gaze meets mine, and I catch the smirk he’s hiding. It cues a lightness in my chest, a fluttering behind my ribs. Somehow, being in trouble feels pretty on-brand for Caleb and me.
Moore clears his throat in the front seat, and I fix my stare out the window.
“Did you have enough alone time?” whispers Henry, strawberry-blond hair cutting over one eye as he turns in the front seat. “I can go back and redo reading comprehension if you need a few more minutes.”
“Stop talking,” warns Moore.
“Yes, sir.” Henry salutes.
Half an hour later, we’re turning down the private driveway, beneath the black iron gate marked by twin ravens. The tree branches overhead weave together, creating streaks of shadow that splash through the windshield, and soon a stone fountain appears, spraying water in high, arcing streams.
Behind it rests the kind of mansion only movie stars should live in, and the sight of the stone walls, reaching up toward the castle-like spires, brings on the memory of my first time here, when I didn’t think this dream would be possible.
Vale Hall.
Inside those walls, I have my own bedroom, my own clothes and laptop and books. I have friends to laugh with, who have my back when I need them, and a kitchen where I can eat whatever I want, whenever I want. No matter how complicated our jobs are for Dr. O, this has become my home.
Moore lets us out in the circular drive, and Caleb and I hurry out of the car before he decides he doesn’t actually forgive us after all. Henry chases us up the stone steps, and through the door into the foyer, and when he cuts in front of us like some kid sprinting to an ice cream truck, we all crack up.
But the laughter dies in our throats as Henry crashes into the person leaving Dr. O’s office and repels off, nearly knocking us over.
My stomach sinks like a stone.
There before us, in jeans and a tattered gray hoodie, stands Grayson Sterling.
CHAPTER 2
Whenever I think of Grayson now, he’s wearing a navy suit. It was the last thing I saw him in, formal wear for his father’s fund-raiser at the Rosalind Hotel. Even when I imagine Grayson chasing Susan Griffin down the road, or hiding in motel rooms, eating greasy fast food, he’s dressed like a prince. His hair is neatly gelled. His gaze is sharp and desperate. And he’s wearing that damn suit.
But this.
This version of him, in dirty jeans and scuffed dress shoes, his hair growing just over his ears and his gaze darting between us like a scared rabbit, I don’t know.
His eyes find mine, and the smallest sound of relief slips from his mouth. All at once it feels like there’s too much blood in my veins, like I might burst if he looks at me another second.
I can’t speak.
Grayson Sterling is here. In Vale Hall.
In my home.
“Sarah?” His eyes widen. He steps closer, then rocks back when Caleb and Henry close in on both sides. “Brynn, I mean. Right?”
“Right.” My voice is a whisper. Sarah was what I called myself before he found out I was conning him for information about Susan’s death.
Panic skims the edge of my control. There are rules about outsiders coming into the school. None of our assignments are allowed to know where we live. The fact that mine is here could mean my expulsion. Could mean we’re all at risk of exposure.
I told Grayson I was a con. I told him my name. I let him go after he confessed he’d run our director’s sister into a tree.
If he’s let any of that slip, my time at Vale Hall is over.
Before I can ask what he’s doing here, Min Belk, Vale Hall’s other security guard, comes through Dr. O’s office door. His thick brows furrow in our direction, and he tightens his blunt ponytail with jerky hands.
The ground grows unsteady beneath my feet. Grayson’s already told Dr. O. Security is here to escort me off the property.
But Belk only motions Grayson toward the stairs. “Let’s get you settled.”