As soon as I say it, I know I’m being an utter asshole.
Rafael stops pacing. “Come on, you think they’ll believe you?”
Still, somehow, the idea of that being unbelievable overwhelms my worries of being an asshole. “And you think they’ll believe a girl got in here and tricked everyone all by herself?”
“Well you did, didn’t you?”
“But they’re not going to want to admit that,” I say. “Sounds a whole lot better if I had an accomplice.”
Rafael’s mouth drops open. He knows what I’m saying is true.
“You bitch.”
You know what, after the day I’ve had, I’ll accept that. But somehow, it also calms the raging hormone monster inside me that wants to be right over actually wanting to do the right thing. I’m about to apologize when my suddenly clearer head registers something Rafael said just a minute earlier.
“Hold on a moment. What was that you said, about … about being marked by an ancient fraternity?”
“The ash, Alex!”
I look down at myself.
It all comes back to the ash. The boys at the top of the stairs. This so-called Brotherhood.
“What about it? Wait …” It’s my turn to jump to my feet and point an accusatorial finger at him. “Is this what this is really all about? Why you’re suddenly so convinced you need to turn me in?”
He looks away, guilty. “You don’t understand, Alex.”
“Then help me.”
Rafael looks like he isn’t sure if he should start pacing again, or if he should just make a run for the door. So, I make that choice easy for him and move to block his exit.
“Come on, Rafael. If there’s something you’re not telling me …”
For one second, I feel my heart racing in my chest. Rafael is clearly mulling something over, trying to decide what—if anything—to tell me. But just as my overactive imagination has started to truly run wild with imaginings of secret societies, bloodthirsty rituals, and ancient covenants, Rafael does the only sensible thing and tells me the disappointing truth.
He lets out another one of this oh-so-signature Rafael sighs.
“It means they’re going to bully you.”
My breath, set to catch in my throat at whatever terrifying revelation he was going to share with me, wheezes out in a dissatisfied stream.
“Wait, that’s it?”
Rafael lets out an angry huff and crosses his arms across his chest. “It’s a Bleakwood tradition. A sort of hazing ritual.”
“Like … smearing the founder’s ashes on your naked body?”
“Or, at least pretending to,” Rafael says. “You can only do that so many times before there aren’t any actual cremated ashes left.”
I think about this for a minute, unsure of whether or not I believe him. “So, there is no weird cult or fraternity I have to watch out for?”
“You mean aside from the whole place that’s Bleakwood?” Rafael says. “But no. Fortunately or unfortunately, we’re just another boarding school for boys.”
“Albeit the one most likely to get me into a school like Harvard.”
“Yeah, if none of the better schools will take you,” Rafael says.
After a minute, it’s my turn to narrow my eyes and cross my arms over my chest. “If that’s it, why were you threatening to turn me in?”