To V, I’m nothing more than the bright allure of danger.
Rebellion might be hot, but I know better than anyone how badly it can burn.
The photo from Thistle Cove was just the first. Next came Sparrowood, then Northridge, and then every other school we hit. The timing was tightly coordinated, no one was caught, and after a few days, the delighted chatter dies down into a sort of collective awe. We’d pulled off something epic.
If I were some normal fucker who was doing this for normal reasons, then I would have felt an acute sense of pride as I walked down the halls, knowing that some of that collective awe was meant for me. Instead, I feel it for Vandy. None of these idiots even realize. Their wincing eyes watch as she limps across campus. Their gossip, little more than a long string of pedestrian clichés, follows in her wake. They all part when she passes. They see some poor, pretty, innocent girl who they’d never suspect.
If I feel any pride at all, it’s that I’m possibly the only one in this school who knows the true Vandy Hall.
I stop at my locker between second and third period, shoving my math book inside and searching for my bio lab notes. A shadow crosses over me and leans against the next locker.
“Did you hear about the assembly?” Sebastian says, looking forward.
“What assembly?”
“After lunch. I was in the nurse's office earlier. Apparently, the admin is pissed about the pranks.” Sebastian smiles wolfishly. “Collins is prepping a stern lecture.”
A coil of tension winds in my stomach. “Do they know anything?”
He sniffs. “Nah, it feels pretty CYA. After the Devils went down for making fun of that middle-schooler last year, they want to present a united front. Too bad they’ve got jack shit for suspects.”
I find the notes, but when I shut the door, Sebastian is already gone, sucked into a crowd of passing students. At lunch, the rumor is confirmed when Dean Dewey’s voice crackles over the intercom. “All students report to the auditorium immediately following lunch for an assembly about recent events that involve the Preston Pep community.”
I look across the table at Emory, who
’s sitting next to Aubrey, their feet intertwined under the table. Down at the other end, picking at salads with a few other cheerleaders, Afton and Georgia exchange a look before shifting their gaze down the table at us.
“They know nothing,” Emory says in a low voice, ignoring everyone. Aubrey nods in agreement and they gather their things. “Just be calm.”
I know he’s right. If any of us had been busted, they’d have dragged all our asses straight out of class. Preston isn’t the type to make a big show. The term ‘handled quietly’ is probably in the disciplinary guidebook. Unfortunately, it only takes a quick look across the dining hall to see that one of us doesn’t get that.
Vandy was obviously sitting with that Sydney chick at one point, but abruptly stands, her chair making an obnoxious screech across the linoleum floor as she lurches to her feet. Her movements are jerky, nervous, eyes flickering anxiously around the room. Luckily, her friend is turned, cluelessly flirting with a guy at the table behind her, else she’d be seeing the worry plain as day on Vandy’s ashen face. I glance back for Emory, hoping he’s witnessing this, but he’s already filtered out the back door with Aubrey.
My response is instinctive, although tightly controlled. I stand and gather my trash, quickly dumping it in the bin. I keep an eye on Vandy every step of the way, careful to keep my distance. At school, she’s still completely off limits, but we have a secret together—several secrets—and neither of us can afford some Vandyesque wave of morality. Part of doing shady shit is being able to withstand the pressure of scrutiny. I’m not convinced Baby V is ready for that.
Allowing a few people between us, I follow her out the door. She starts down the main hall toward the administrative offices. That particular hallway is barren, quiet, free of the dining hall bustle. I furtively scan the doorways, quickly locating one labeled ‘Tech Storage’, and close the gap. I thread my fingers through hers and she looks up with a gasp, eyes wide when she realizes who has her hand. Pushing open the door, I pull her inside and shut it quickly.
My heart pounds erratically, because fuck. This could get me in so much trouble. George’s words float through my head, unbidden, and I wonder if it counts as kidnapping to pull a girl into a room without asking.
Vandy looks up at me with questioning eyes, voice a half-whisper. “What are you doing?” Now that she’s only a few inches away, I realize that she doesn’t seem as upset as I thought. Her cheeks have color and her eyes, though suspicious, lack all of that frantic energy I’d seen before. She also smells really good, but in that nebulous way pretty girls often do. Something chemically floral and delicate, clean.
“I, uh…” I scratch my neck, feeling stupid now. “You left abruptly after Dewey’s announcement. Just making sure you’re okay.”
Her blue eyes watch me, searching. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I don’t know, because…” Fuck, her eyes totally just looked at my mouth. “Because you looked nervous, and I know nervous people sometimes have the tendency to…” I can’t find a delicate way to accuse her.
I don’t need to. “You’re afraid I’ll squeal,” she realizes, eyes wide with disbelief. “You’re handling me.”
“What?” I try to play it off. “No, it’s not—I know you won’t narc on us. I mean, you also broke in and picked a lock, so that’d sort of be suicide, but I just know how—”
Her expression shifts into something so shuttered and cold that I almost take a step back. She breathes out a low, “Fuck you,” and it somehow sounds worse than her rigid posture and icy expression.
It sounds like she just got slapped in the face.
Whatever just happened, I try futilely to fix it. “Hey, come on. I just know you’re not usually in this kind of situation because you’re…”
“A good girl? Sweet? Innocent?” Her eyes are like ice. “I stole, hid, and kept a drug habit secret for years, Reynolds. I know you think I’m some baby who needs to be handled, but I’m not. I can handle myself.”