I fix my clothes and slide off the hood of Dutch’s ruggedly expensive truck, landing to the grass on shaky legs. He sweeps those dangerous fingers over his blond hair, studying me with eyes the color of a dancing flame, honey and gold.
“I need to get back to school,” I murmur, failing to hide the slight tremor in my voice.
“You need to cool off first.” He gestures to my top. “And button up properly. Walk into Redwood looking that disheveled and everyone will know what we were doing.” His brows go up. “Not that I have a problem with that.”
My eyes flash. “I don’t need you telling me what I can and can’t do.”
“Your face is red, Cadey. Maybe try not to blush so hard when you make a point.”
I cup my cheek. “It’s from sunburn.”
He smirks.
Eager to get away, I march to the backseat and grab my phone.
Jinx’s message pops out at me.
Heart racing, I click on the video and watch the murky feed. It’s a shot taken from one of the cameras in the hallway near the classroom that burned. How did she get this footage? The police couldn’t pull anything from those cameras.
“What are you watching?” Dutch asks.
I jump in my skin, pause the video and hide it behind my back. “Nothing. Can we go now?”
He stares at me for a long, tense moment, and then he nods once.
“Let’s go.” Dutch opens the passenger side door for me.
“I’ll take the back.”
“From now on, you ride up front with me.”
I want to argue because it’s pure habit to be contrary at this point, but all I can think about is the video. The faster I get to Redwood, the faster I can view it privately.
Dutch starts driving.
“Your mother told me she had to fake her death because she saw something she shouldn’t have,” he says, and I shrug. Everything that comes out of mom’s mouth is questionable. The only thing I don’t doubt is the lengths she would go to find her next fix. “Do you know what she saw?”
“A murder apparently.” The confession rolls off my tongue with careless ease.
Dutch’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel and he whips around. In his eyes are a tight, smoldering frustration.
When I see his reaction, I realize how casual I made that sound.
“But she could be lying,” I add as he pulls into the parking lot of Redwood Prep. “It’s possible she just owed a debt she couldn’t pay and saw dying as an easy way out.”
He frowns at me.
“No one’s bothered us yet, so I’m sure we’ll be fine.”
“Yet?” He turns the engine off, pockets the keys and pins me down with his dark glare.
“You know as well as I do that mom’s not a reliable source.”
“She could be telling the truth this time.”
I shake my head. “She’s an addict, Dutch.” I don’t normally share my thoughts so freely, but he’s already stepped into this mess. It’s not like I can pretend my life is something it isn’t. “She’ll do anything, say anything to convince you of her story.”
“People don’t fake their own deaths for the fun of it, Cadey.”
Jinx’s video keeps pressing at the back of my mind.
Dutch is choosing the worst time to talk about this.
“It’s not your problem,” I grind out.
“Of course it’s my problem. Everything that concerns you is my problem.”
I stiffen at his possessive tone. “Don’t think what happened on the hill means anything’s changed. You and I are still mortal enemies.”
“You screw all your mortal enemies?” he asks, cocking a brow at me.
He has a point.
Rather than answering the question, I twist around and face him confidently. “You and I… we mess around sometimes. We… use each other to let out steam. That’s it.”
His jaw works for a minute, like he’s thinking hard about my words, and then he gestures with his chin toward Redwood.
“Go inside before you say something even more ridiculous, Cadey.”
I scowl at him, the urge to fight snapping through me.
You want to fight Dutch or watch Jinx’s video?
It’s an easy choice.
I sprint into Redwood and duck into the nearest bathroom. After locking myself in a stall, I lift my cell phone again.
Thumb up. Breath shaking.
I slam the play button.
The video starts again, a steady picture of the hallway. Suddenly, there’s a pop and the tinkle of glass breaking. A slight whoosh fills my ears.
On my screen, a shadow falls on the floor.
The outline of the true culprit.
My head is reeling.
I’m so close to the truth, I can taste it.
But why am I so nervous?
I wipe away the sweat forming above my upper lip.
On screen, orange and red glow against the lockers. Reflections of the mounting fire. The culprit walks closer and closer to the camera. Steady footsteps. Arms loose. No more perturbed by the destruction he caused than Vi would be if she broke a nail.
And then he’s there.
In the frame.
Familiar brown eyes. Broad shoulders. Thick, wavy hair.
The fourth member of The Kings.
The only friend I have among the ruthless boys of Redwood Prep.
Sol.
I gasp and the phone slips from my hand. It clatters to the ground. I hear the crack of glass. If I were in my right mind, I’d be horrified. I try to be careful with my phone because I can’t afford to fix it if it breaks.
But my mind is whirring too fast.
I cover my mouth with my palms, eyes wide and frantic.
Sol?
Sol… is the culprit.
At once, a wave of memories washes over me. Sol’s, heavy, agonized glances in my direction. His constant attempts to tell me something.
‘Cadence, we need to talk.’
‘I hate keeping the truth from you.’
‘Can we talk?’
I kept brushing him off. I was so sucked into Dutch, Jarod Cross, Serena, and the drama with mom that I didn’t even stop to…
Dropping to my knees, I flip the phone over and stare at the broken screen.
The video is frozen on the scene where Sol is facing the camera.
It’s really him.
But why? What would make Sol do something like that? He had the protection of Dutch, Finn and Zane Cross. Those boys ruined my life and Mr. Mulliez’s to get Sol back to school. They were never going to let him leave Redwood Prep.
My fingers close around the cell phone and I hold it tight, ignoring the scrape of the broken glass against my palm. Shoving the device in my purse, I press my hand against the bathroom stall, struggling to catch my breath.
At that moment, a group of girls enter the bathroom in a cloud of giggles and perfume.
“What’s so funny?”
“She snuck into Lit again.”
“Why?”
“It’s the only class Zane Cross attends.”
I hear the spritz of perfume and a rustle of fabric.
“He didn’t seem like the smart type.”
“Of course he’s smart. He never did his homework, but he used to have these epic book arguments with Miss Jamieson.”
“They haven’t done that in a while though.”
“Yeah, Miss J doesn’t call him out in class anymore. Zane doesn’t call her out either. He just kind of glares at her until the bell rings and then he leaves. It’s so weird.”
I suck in a deep breath and push the door open.
The girls gasp in shock when they see me. At once, they dip their heads and greet me like I’m the queen or something.
I ignore them and shuffle to the sink, pooling my hands under the water in the faucet. The reflection in the mirror reveals my long brown hair, pinched lips and restless eyes. I look as stressed out as I feel.
“Um…” One of the girls approaches me like I’m a wild animal. “You’re New Girl, right? Dutch Cross’s girlfriend? I’ve seen him—uh… carrying you through the hall before.”
Great.
She tilts her head up, staring at me like my ‘love story’ with Dutch is something to freaking look up to. If she knew how sordid and twisted my life became after Dutch barreled into it, she wouldn’t be so damn starry-eyed.
I dig my nails into the sink.
“I just wanted you to know that we’re such huge fans.” The girl flashes a brilliant smile. “I’m a scholarship kid too. Everyone at Redwood treated me like trash until you came along. They see us as something more than their punching bag now.”
The other girls nod enthusiastically.
“You control Dutch Cross now. Which is, like, insane. He actually listens to you. Plus you hang out with The Kings. You’re, like, the coolest kid ever.”
My head swings down, my chin hitting my chest. I release a shaky breath that rattles through my lips and fogs up the mirror.
“If you ever need help, you can ask me. For anything.” The girl bats her eyelashes.
I want to growl at her to ‘go away’, but I can’t find it in me to rip that smile off her face. I can’t find it in me to burst that bubble of hope and shove her face in the crap that’s become my life.
When I still don’t say anything, she finally gets the hint. With a small jerk of her chin toward the door, she leads her friends to the exits.
“Wait,” I rasp.
The girls stop and spin in one fluid motion, like ballet dancers. They’re already leaning forward, already eager to do whatever I command.
I pull my fingers into fists, nails digging into the soft flesh of my palm.
“Do you know who Sol is?”
Her eyes bug. “Of course we know!”
“Find him for me and give him a message.” I sweep stone-cold eyes over the girls. “Tell him to meet me in the music room.”
She gasps. “But you can’t go in there. They banned that place after the fire—”
“Do it.” I cut her off. “Now.”
