“Where are you headed?”
“Home to Tudor House.” She nodded in the direction of the imposing stone edifice at the edge of the campus.
If his steps faltered, he covered it well. “Can I walk with you?”
“Sure.” It’s a free country, Vaughn. You can be my BFF today and then totally blow me off the next time we’re in history class together.
They walked in silence for a few steps, but then Vaughn got a few feet in front of her and turned. Orchid stopped.
“Can I—um—carry your books?”
“What?”
“I just feel like a jerk, you know? You’re all weighed down, and I’m a guy, and—”
“You want to carry my books?” Orchid replied, her eyebrows disappearing into her bangs. “What is this, a Victorian novel?”
Vaughn held out his hands, smiling. What nerve. This was too much. Okay, he wanted to have it out? Fine by her.
“You know when you were a jerk?” she said. “When you went ahead and picked Violet Vandergraf as a partner for the 1920s poster project in history class. I told you I was coming back to Blackbrook.”
Vaughn’s face fell. “You did.”
“And now I get back and everyone is all partnered up without me, and all the good topics are taken.”
“Yeah . . .”
“And Violet is a moron,” she added as she swept by him. “So, you know, good luck with that.”
“Wait, Orchid!” He skipped to keep up with her. “I—I didn’t mean to pick Violet—”
“What?” she snapped, not deigning to look at him. “You got confused by which girl named after a flower you survived a flood and a murderous rampage with?”
“Yeah, that sounds exactly like something I’d do,” Vaughn mumbled.
She rolled her eyes. It was exactly what he had done, though.
He cast about, as if looking for an excuse. “I—I didn’t think you’d want to be my partner.”
Now she stopped. “After all the time we spent texting over break?”
Vaughn didn’t respond. Typical.
“I kind of figured you’d have my back, you know? After everything.” She started walking again. She could tell he was still keeping pace beside her. “And, not to harp on it or anything, but the only posters left are some crap about the Teapot Dome scandal and then an argument in favor of Prohibition.”
“I’ll fix this,” Vaughn replied. “Violet and I are . . . my topic is . . .”
“Rumrunners,” Orchid finished. Did he not even remember that? There were only eleven people left in the class. “Lucky you, in attendance the day topics were being handed out.”
“So then you pick temperance,” he said. “We’ll do a huge group project, for and against. There’ll be lots of stuff in the historical society to help us out. Rocky Point saw a fair bit of action smuggling liquor in from Canada. I’m going to be doing my poster mostly by myself anyway. We’ll share the load.”
She looked at him. “That sounds like a lot of extra work for you.”
“It is,” he admitted, then quickly added, “but I don’t mind.”
“And testing’s in, like, a week.” Vaughn was a scholarship student. If he didn’t ace his standardized tests, all kinds of collegiate doors would be closed to him, even with a Blackbrook diploma.
Or maybe more accurately, despite one. The school’s storied reputation was as trashed as its campus at present. Murder tended to have that effect on a pricey private school.
“Let me make this right.”
Orchid took a deep breath. She wanted to believe him. And standing here on the quad, staring up into his adorably hopeful expression, she almost did. This was the easy Vaughn, the open Vaughn. The one she’d gotten to know through texts back and forth between Maine and California.
Every time things had gotten hard over break, every time she’d been reminded just how much she risked by remaining Orchid, Vaughn was there with a text—a snippet of new song lyrics, a description of the ice floating in the slate-gray sea—a reminder of what she’d lose if she decided not to come back to Blackbrook.
You’d think after all those years in Hollywood, she’d be over boys with pretty faces. But that was precisely it. Orchid had never been interested in boys her age, and she’d never been into anyone at all during her time at Blackbrook. Not like that. It was too dangerous.
Until Vaughn had caught her alone in the firelight on the night of the storm. When he’d seen past her disguise to notice the real Orchid. Even in the bloodshed and terror that followed, Orchid had not forgotten that moment.
But maybe Vaughn had.
“I’m really not interested in playing games,” she said at last.
“Me neither. I’m sick of them.” As always, his words sounded heartfelt. Was it another game?
“Well, I don’t know what to think when you act like this—”
“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. I just—I didn’t want to assume. Everyone has been really weird since coming back. You know what they’re calling us?”
Orchid pursed her lips. “The Murder Crew.”
“Yeah.” Vaughn shrugged. “It’s not like Scarlett wants to be seen with me. And I know you two are hanging out a lot more, or whatever . . .”
“Yeah,” Orchid admitted. “Want to trade? You can be Scarlett’s new BFF.” She was obligated now. Not just because of the whole Murder Crew thing, but also because Scarlett was the only person on campus who knew Orchid’s real name.
“I’d rather be with you.”
That was all he said, but it still made Orchid catch her breath. No one had said they wanted to be with her and not been a creep in . . . well, possibly ever. She looked at him. Vaughn just stood there, waiting, with an expression on his face like he was more than prepared for her to say no.
But she didn’t want to say no.
She shoved her textbooks and test-prep binder at him. “Fine. You can carry my books.”
Vaughn broke into a smile like she’d just handed him a puppy. He really was awfully cute. Tall and lanky, with that big, stupid grin and those unusual, golden-brown eyes. When they started walking again, they were a full foot closer to each other on the sidewalk. Their arms brushed. Even through all the layers of their parkas it was . . . nice.
“I’m glad you’re back,” he said. “Even though you said you were returning, when term started and you were still gone, I thought you’d pulled a Karlee. Or a Kayla.”
Orchid didn’t blame Karlee Silverman or Kayla Gould or their parents for staying far away from Blackbrook this term. They’d been attacked and drugged by a murderer. For all Orchid knew, the pending lawsuit was massive.
If the parents on Orchid’s student-enrollment forms weren’t entirely fictional, she was sure they’d be keeping her away as well. Real live parents tended to act concerned when their children were held captive by a murderer in a secret passage under their dorm room. But, as it was, she got to make the decision herself.
And she’d promised Vaughn that she’d return.
She just had to make sure she was safe here. Ironically, the murder was not the biggest threat Orchid had faced last term. Orchid’s stalker wasn’t new, but for three years she thought she’d escaped his detection. She hadn’t.