CHAPTER31
Ihave Tyler drop me back off at the school. My clothes are drenched because I was drenched from the ocean water. The rain has lightened to a drizzle, and I still don’t want him to know where I live.
As soon as I’m sure he’s driven off and hasn’t come back around to tail me, I take off for the overpass. It’s drenched, the entire place flooded.
The water and swimming helped to ease the ache in my hips, thankfully. The roads are still slick from the rain, so I drive slowly. I don’t go to the library. No, I head back to the school.
Maybe I should’ve just stayed here the entire time all along, but that’s all right. I can get in.
One of the guys at the bar my father owns isn't in the motorcycle club. He's not a Thunder Crow, but we got to talking. He has a family and a daughter who was a few years older than I am. I think he viewed me as a replacement almost. Completely respectable guy. When I found out what he did for a living, I realized that he might work for my father after all because he handles security systems. He told me a few things he probably shouldn't have, and I can only hope that this system is one of the ones he gave me dirt on. If not, well, I have my bike to help me make a speedy getaway.
I don’t go in the front door, instead opting for the side entrance that I used this morning. When I came in, I noticed the security pad on the wall. As soon as I picked the lock—something I taught myself actually, thank you very much, because my mom used to like to lock away desserts and cookies from me and maybe from my father, too, since he would sometimes get the munchies when he was overly drunk—I make a beeline for the pad. Yes, a silent alarm has been triggered.
I take the base off and examine the wires. It’s dark in the entranceway here, but I can see well enough to know which wire to plug. The alarm is resetting. It should—hopefully—not go off again once rebooted.
After putting the pad where it goes back on the wall, I walk around. It’s later enough that even the janitor isn’t around, and I have the entire place to myself. I head back to the front mat and make sure my feet are all dry. No more footprints on the polished tiled floor. I even go to the nearest bathroom to grab paper towels to clean up the footprint mess I created in my dash to the security pad. There. No sign that anyone has been here.
Where to stay? The locker rooms? Nah. Sleeping on one of those benches would be uncomfortable, and besides, I’m sure students have done a lot more than just sit on them. Disgusting.
It takes me some time to explore every place in the entire school, and I eventually find a tiny wooden door in the back on the top floor. Evidently not the top floor as I open the door, after picking the lock, and find a staircase. These stairs are old and not as well maintained as the rest of the place, which looks all sparkling and brand new. Clearly this isn’t a place that is ever on the tour. It’s not meant for students.
Of course, I head on up. There’s a tiny attic-type area, and there are huge stacks of boxes. I shove and push some to the side and clear a space for me. It’s dusty up here, but it’ll do. Yes, it’ll do just fine. There’s even an outlet up here so I can charge my phone. Perfect. Just perfect.
* * *
The next morning, after a quick shower in the locker room, I start to feel a little better about things. Yes, Moonlight’s in the parking lot, so I’m taking a huge gamble, but soon enough, I’ll be able to move out of here. At least I have a room over my head. I won’t dare sneak into the cafeteria and steal any food. No, I definitely can afford to buy myself food even as I save up as much as I can for an apartment.
Thankfully, my bag with all of the toiletries and my clothes I kept in my locker, but before I went to sleep last night, I laid out all of the clothes so they can maybe de-wrinkle some. Soon, I’m going to have to do a load of wash. I’ll have to make change and get some quarters. Still, I’m light on my feet as I head to my locker.
As soon as I open my locker, a piece of paper flutters to the ground. Curious, I bend down and pick it up. It’s for an apartment. An affordable one. Already furnished. It’s honestly perfect for me. I have got to check it out and see it in person. The place seems to be too good to be true.
Just then, the paper is snatched out of my hand.
“Brett,” I snap before I even look up to see who the snatcher was.
Of course I’m right.
“Give it back.” I try to reach for it.
He holds it up too high out of my reach. “Who the hell is your father?” he demands.
I smirk at him. “Why?” I ask, batting my eyelashes. “You don’t want to ask him for permission to marry me, do you?”
“I can’t find him.”
My smirk only grows. “I’m sorry, Brett. When I look at you, I remember our kiss, and words just fly out of my head. I can’t help you. Really, so, so sorry.”
I shut my locker by using my foot to close it and walk away even though he still has the flyer. I think I have the address memorized.
“I couldn’t find any trace of a father to an Erika Armstrong who is looking for her, nothing like that, but interestingly enough, I did find something with all of my digging, something that you might know about,” Brett says.
I pause. I’m far enough away that he should have to shout for me to hear him, yet I can hear every word he says without him raising his voice.
“I uncovered a Brandon Slade.”
“A name is important,” my father tells me. “You tell anyone here in Sinking Springs that you’re my daughter, and you will get anything you ask for. A name—the right name—equals power.”
“My name doesn’t have that kind of power.”