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  “Christopher!” I haven’t seen him in a month, since Caleb and I snuck out to visit his family at the hospital, but he’s at least two inches taller.

  Realizing we might not do that again makes me sink a full two inches.

  He grins up at me, pointing to his missing bottom tooth.

  “Oh man,” I say. “I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your teeth are rotting out.”

  “It was loose,” he explains.

  “The tooth fairy come?”

  He nods. “She brought me a potato.”

  Beside me, I hear a snort, and I turn to see Jonathan combing his black hair forward with his hand.

  “You wouldn’t happen to know this potato fairy, would you?”

  His cheeks turn pink, and when he jams his hands into his pockets, I’m so reminded of Caleb my chest hurts.

  “He doesn’t know the difference. He’s just a kid,” says Jonathan, as if he isn’t only twelve himself.

  I jab him in the shoulder but can’t help laughing.

  “Mom wanted us to find you.” Christopher loads up a small plate of fancy cheese and crackers to my left. “She’s over there.”

  I follow his pointing finger through the crowd to the entryway, where Maiko stands on the tile, wearing a black dress and high heels. Her inky hair is brushed back today, and she’s put on some lipstick that brightens her proud smile.

  Without hesitating, I head toward her, glad she’s finally here. Last time I saw her, we talked about Barry Buddha, and she asked if I would take her to the garden when she came.

  But as the crowd clears, I see that she isn’t talking just to Caleb, but to Geri and her dad. Geri’s hand is on Caleb’s forearm, and when she laughs, she rests the side of her head on his shoulder.

  Then Caleb shifts, placing his hand on her lower back, the way he used to do with me.

  My mouth goes dry. A knot forms behind my collarbone. Grayson’s not here, so Caleb has no reason to pretend he and Geri are together for my benefit. It’s like he doesn’t care who’s watching at all.

  “Who’s that?”

  I approve one hundred percent of the disgust in Jonathan’s voice.

  “Geri,” I mutter.

  “That’s a boy’s name.”

  It’s not the most creative insult, but I give him a high five anyway.

  “Is that his girlfriend or something? I thought you and he were going out. You’re all he ever talks about. Brynn this. Brynn that.”

  My gut clenches.

  “We’re friends,” I say.

  “Oh.” Jonathan rolls back his shoulders but refuses to meet my eyes. “You got a boyfriend?”

  “Why, you got someone in mind?” I give him a sideways look, and his face turns stoplight red.

  I don’t want to be here anymore. All these people in this house feel like an invasion. I should go up to my room. Or better, go to Grayson’s and dig around in his head for more information. The sooner Dr. O has what he needs to put Matthew Sterling away, the better.

  But that means Grayson will leave.

  It’s for the best—he’s not a student here, and he said himself that he wants to go home. But I’m getting used to having him around.

  He’s not awful once you get to know him.

  Giving Jonathan a fist bump, I head toward the stairs, but the collision is unavoidable. Maiko spots me and waves, then excuses herself from the conversation to come see me.

  “Brynn!” She holds her arms out and there’s no avoiding it. I bend down to hug her. She squeezes the perfect amount, and pats my back, and tells me how glad she is to see me. My stupid eyes betray me and get all glassy and wet, and I have to clear my throat just to say hi.

  When I pull back, Caleb’s standing there, staring at me like I just punched him in the chest, while Geri still hangs on his arm.

  “I have to run upstairs for a minute,” I lie. “I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll save you some dessert,” Maiko says.

  I smile and try to edge around Caleb, but he breaks free from the Geri leech and grabs my hand.

  “Can we talk?” he whispers, his palm warm against mine.

  The room around him wavers and falls out of focus. I don’t care about Geri then, or Grayson, or whatever rift has formed between us over our stupid assignments.

  I miss him.

  “Meet me tonight?” he asks. Behind him, I catch a glimpse of Geri clearly eavesdropping before looking away.

  Part of me wants to say no. To remind him he followed me. To remind him he lied, and put Dr. O’s orders over us.

  But I nod.

  And he smiles.

  And it feels like hope.

  Then the pause button is released, and we’re back to our regularly scheduled program. He’s with Geri and his mom, his back to me as he introduces Jonathan and Christopher around. The inertia drags at me, pulling me into motion when I’m still stuck in place, until finally my feet are able to move.

  I head toward the stairs and am halfway up when the door opens and Moore steps inside. He’s not alone; there’s a woman with him. She’s my height, with my color hair, and my face, only lighter.

  “Mom?”

  My voice cracks.

  I can’t believe she’s here.

  I didn’t think I cared, but I do. I care so much I think I might break open.

  “You could’ve warned me you live in a castle,” she says.

  “You wouldn’t have believed me,” I tell her.

  She grins and clutches her bag close against her side, as if she’s afraid she might bump into one of the fine pieces of art on the walls. She got dressed up—the kind of dressed up that turns heads in Devon Park, but averts stares on the North End. Her blouse is too tight, and her skirt is too short. Her silver heels look straight out of a club.

  But I don’t care, because she came.

  “Work kept me late and I missed the train,” she says. “Hugh was kind enough to get me at the house.”

  Hugh? What exactly happened in the car? She wasn’t giving him the flirty smile she is now when he picked me up to bring me to Vale Hall for the first time.

  “I could have met you.” I wish I could have driven to get her. Used one of the fancy cars in the garage. That would have blown her mind.

  “It was my pleasure.” Moore takes a subtle step away, then looks up at me. “You want to show her around?”

  Stupid me is still standing on the stairs like some kind of Southern belle. I hurry toward them, taking Mom’s arm to lead her toward the living room and kitchen.

  “Wow,” she mutters when Moore’s out of view. “If my school police looked like that, I never would have dropped out.”

  “Gross. You want to eat first, or see the house?”

  “I think…” She takes a deep breath. “I think we should go somewhere to talk. There’s something I need to tell you.”

  CHAPTER 16

  Instead of meeting the others, Mom and I go upstairs to my bedroom. She gawks the whole time, saying things like, “I was just about to get this marble statue for my hallway,” and, “Our place looked just like this before you were born. Kids ruin everything.” By the time we reach my room, my meeting with Caleb is shoved to the back of my mind. I’m braced for the worst, and she’s wound tighter than a copper coil.

  “What happened?” I close the door behind her while she stares, in awe, around my room. “Is it Pete? Did he contact you?”

  Her ex-boyfriend’s been in jail for three months, unable to make his hundred-thousand-dollar bail. At least—that was the last I’d heard. If he did manage to pay it, he could be home, messing with her again.

  Coming after me.

  “No, he’s gone,” she says. “They repossessed his place downstairs and everything. Do you seriously have your own bedroom?”

  I blow out a tense breath. The cops must have found more than enough Wednesday Pharmaceuticals pills and illegal gambling money to put him away for a long time.

  “Mom.” I move in front
of her, blocking her from wandering further.

  “He’s gone,” she says again, this time meeting my gaze. “I wanted to tell you in person that I’m gone, too.”

  “Which means?”

  “I’m moving out of the slums, baby.”

  It takes a second for this to sink in. She’s never talked about moving before. Even when I begged her to leave with me. Even before Pete. She said Devon Park was home, and she couldn’t see herself living anywhere else.

  “Well, say something,” she says.

  I shake myself out of shock. “Where? Why?”

  Side-eyeing me, she continues her assessment of my room. At the closet, she flips through the clothes, feeling the material of each one.

  I wish she’d just sit down.

  “An apartment opened up in Edgewater.”

  Edgewater is a suburb on the east side of the city. It’s not a step up from Devon Park, it’s a ride in a rocket ship to the moon.

  “Edgewater.”

  “That’s right. Two bedroom, two bath. You can come back and stay with me whenever you want.”

  “How much does it cost?” I don’t want to rain on her parade, but I’m not sure how this is going to work.

  She waves a hand, moving to my bathroom, where she hoots when she sees the rain shower and stone tiles. “Don’t you worry about that. I got a new job.”

  “What?” She’s waitressed at Gridiron Sports Bar since I was in fourth grade. “Another restaurant?”

  She pulls a towel off the rack and holds it against her cheek. “These are like cotton candy.”

  I snap my fingers. “Focus.”

  She sets down the towel and straightens her blouse, holding her chin high as she says, “Meet the newest member of the Wednesday Pharmaceuticals team.”

  It feels like I’ve just missed a step going down the stairs.

  “They hired me as an administrative assistant in the east side office. Salaried position, with benefits, thank you very much.”

  “Hold on,” I say. “Wednesday Pharmaceuticals is…”

  The company that makes the drugs Pete stole and later sold on the streets.

  The company that Dr. O owns.

  “I know,” she says. “Obviously I’m not telling them how my ex made an income.”

  “How did you get this job?”

  “I interviewed for it.” Pride is evident in her voice, her posture, even her little smirk. Clearly she has no idea that my employer is also her employer.

  “How’d you find out about it?”

  “Guy came into the bar the other night saying he was looking for someone to fill the position. I guess my service impressed him.” She flicks her hair.

  “A guy from Edgewater came to a sports bar in Devon Park and just happened to offer you a job?”

  Her lips pull into a frown. “He was in the area. Who cares? I start next week. I put the house up for sale yesterday!”

  Nostalgia bites into me, bringing memories of the bedroom I haven’t seen since the beginning of summer, and the kitchen where Mom makes birthday cupcakes, and the blue couch by the front window that will forever be stained by a fruit punch box I spilled when I was six. She’s selling the house we lived in with my dad, where we cried together after he’d been shot. Where I grew up.

  The house I ran away from.

  I don’t care. I won’t. Because it’s a dump. It smells like ash-trays, and the carpet’s threadbare. The floors creak, and the windows are so thin you freeze in the winter. It doesn’t even have air-conditioning.

  It’s just a stupid house.

  She’s never going to sell it, anyway.

  “What about all our stuff?” I ask.

  She shrugs. “The company’s covering the move. They gave me the name of the realtor and everything. She’s really classy. Thinks someone will snatch it up in the next couple weeks.”

  Because everyone’s dying to move to Devon Park.

  She’s so happy, and I want to be happy for her. But this isn’t the random stroke of good luck she thinks it is. This is Dr. O’s doing, and everything he offers comes with a cost.

  “Congrats, Mom,” she says out of the side of her mouth.

  This is a huge deal for her—an opportunity that doesn’t come along every day. But how could Dr. O have done this without asking me? Why did he pull my mom into his web? Is this some kind of reward for my work?

  “Congrats, Mom,” I say. It’s not like I can tell her to turn the job down or break the contract on the apartment. Regardless of where this came from, it’s too good to pass up.

  “I owe it to you,” she says. “If you hadn’t come here, I’d still be doing the same old routine. You inspired me.”

  I hope she doesn’t see the hesitance in my smile.

  “People often call me the Great Inspiration,” I say. “You want something to eat? There’s appetizers and stuff downstairs.”

  “Ooh.” She gives her best this-is-fancy smile. “Yes, please.”

  * * *

  THE KITCHEN IS still bustling with activity as we make our way down the spiral staircase, but before we leave the foyer, there’s a loud thunk against the wall behind me. I turn, assuming it must be someone outside the front door, but no one is visible through the glass panes on either side.

  “Hold on a second.” Mom waits as I step beneath the twin columns holding up the black marble ravens and turn my ear to Dr. O’s closed office door. He’s not inside; I can hear his laughter filtering in through the open back door, where Ms. Maddox set up a marshmallow toasting station in the outdoor fireplace beside the pool.

  It was probably nothing. A car door slamming outside, or a painting that fell off the wall. But as I listen, there’s a screeching sound, as if a heavy piece of furniture is being dragged across the floor.

  “What’s in there?” Mom asks, creeping up behind me. “Please tell me it’s a wine cellar.”

  “Shh.”

  No one’s allowed in Dr. O’s office without an invitation, and the smart move is to tell Moore or Belk what I’ve heard, but they’re busy playing tour guides and it’s only a quick look.

  As I turn the knob, the wooden door creaks and pushes inward. I’m surprised it opened—usually if Dr. O’s not inside, it stays locked. My surprise doubles when a figure on the opposite side of the room ducks behind a burgundy armchair.

  In an instant, I’m ready for anything. I look around for a weapon, eyes landing on the metal pokers on the fireplace mantel. I should run and call for help.

  But this is Family Day, and no one’s breaking in on Family Day. It’s probably just some kid who went exploring. My shoulders unbunch as Mom steps beside me, whistling as she takes in the museum of art and antiques that Dr. O surrounds himself with.

  “Whoever’s in here shouldn’t be,” I say to the still room.

  There is no movement.

  I stride toward the monstrous chair, but no one stands up. “I already saw you. There’s no use hiding.”

  When I round the corner, I see long, denim-clad legs and socked feet. Another step, and the rest of the intruder comes into view.

  “Grayson?”

  He winces. “No Graysons here. Move along.”

  I fold my arms over my chest.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Playing hide and seek?”

  “By yourself.”

  “No one else wanted to play.”

  I reach out a hand, which he takes, and he nearly drags me to the ground as I attempt to pull him up.

  “You picked the lock?”

  He holds a credit card up between two fingers.

  I ignore the swell of pride inside me.

  “Dr. O catches you in here, you’re dead, you know.”

  “That seems to be a theme these days.”

  I glance to the edge of the mantel beside him, where the love seat has been dragged aside to reveal an opening in the stones—a small door, blending with the rock, hiding a silver safe.

  My gut sinks. “Please tell
me you weren’t trying to break into that.” Whatever curiosity I have over what might be inside is overridden by the growing idea that this office wasn’t just a game for him, but an end goal.

  “Of course not,” he says. “I was just admiring it.”

  I slap his arm.

  “I know you.” Mom’s voice surprises me—I’d forgotten she was here. “You’re Grayson Sterling. The senator’s son.”

  Grayson wilts.

  “Just a look-alike,” I say.

  “No.” Pure delight is radiating off her as she wags a finger at him. “I saw that picture of you two on Pop Store a few months ago. I asked you about it, and you said it was someone else.”

  “It was,” I say, Grayson’s wariness now infecting me. “It was this guy. He looks like Grayson, but really his name’s … Billy.”

  Grayson glowers at me. I glare back. No one’s supposed to know he’s here. Men—sent by his father—are looking for him. Why didn’t he stay in his room like he was supposed to?

  Mom taps her nose with one finger. “Top secret. I get it. I know how you celebrity types are.”

  Because watching Pop Store makes her a celebrity expert.

  There’s no use denying it now. I rush toward her, leaving Grayson shifting from side to side behind me.

  “It’s important no one knows he’s here, Mom. Grayson’s hounded by the press, all the time. He wasn’t even supposed to come out of his room today.”

  “I get it.” As I put my arm around her shoulders to turn her away from Grayson, she whispers, “Was there an assassination attempt?”

  “What? No!”

  “They do this kind of thing with the president’s kids,” she says. “People make threats, so they hide these kids in private schools, or homeschool them. They hardly have a life at all, poor things.”

  I dig my thumb into my temple. “Okay, yes. It is something like that. Which means it’s absolutely crucial you tell no one he’s here.”

  Behind me, I can hear the screech of the couch as Grayson pushes it back in place. I’m sure that won’t leave any scuff marks on the floor, or look at all suspicious.

  “I got it, I got it. So are you and him…” Mom weaves her fingers together in front of her face.