Knowing You_The Cursed Series Part 2 Page 12

  I close my eyes as the gate closes behind me. What just happened? And why is my heart beating like crazy right now? Omigod, please make me stop already.

  I stand and toss my untouched food in the trash. Kaely enters the gate as I’m about to walk out.

  “Sorry, I have to change before the shuttle gets here. I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay,” she says with a smile. I think she’s always smiling. Can a person genuinely be that nice? And happy? “Hope you can make it to Stefan’s tomorrow.” Before I can walk away, she leans in and says, “Oh, and I just saw Grant leave. He was smiling. I think he likes you.” Her eyes shine like she’s excited by the idea of it.

  “Um … he doesn’t know me,” I say, trying to shake off the remnants of him that still float around me, making my head buzzy and my heart crazy.

  “Then make sure you’re at Stefan’s so we can change that.” Her genuine smile is going to force me to smile in return. I walk away before it does.

  I’m not a bubbly person. I’m not exactly bitchy and cold either, contradictory to what others might claim. I’m … cautious. But I’m all for partying. So, now I just have to find Lance and hope he feels the same way.

  When I exit the employee entrance after changing, I find Parker waiting for me by his Land Rover.

  “Have dinner with me before I drive back to New York?” When I hesitate, he adds, “I already cleared it with Blackwood. And we still need to talk.”

  I consider what Brendan said earlier about giving information to get it, and maybe Parker can help me. If I locate the girl before the police do, I can explain and keep her from implicating me. I don’t know how Parker can help me with Vic. I’m still not convinced he should know what happened in the stairwell. Because that would mean telling him everything about that night. I’ve learned the hard way that it only takes one person to talk before everyone else finds out. And I don’t trust him.

  He holds the passenger door open for me. “Thanks.”

  “Have you spoken to Nina or Tori since you’ve been here?” He asks when we pull out of the parking lot.

  “They’re not approved.”

  “That sucks. Sorry.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Do you want to call them now?” He offers me his phone.

  I think about it but decide against it. “Calling Nina from your phone probably isn’t a good idea. I doubt she’d even answer.”

  Parker chuckles cockily. “She’d answer.” When he notices my glare, he fumbles. “I mean, she and I still get along.” I hear him say, “Shit,” under his breath.

  “Maybe dinner isn’t a good idea.”

  “Lana,” he pleads, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said it like that.”

  “Take me back to the school,” I tell him, crossing my arms.

  “What is it?” His grip tightens on the steering wheel. “Are you jealous? Is that why you’re being like this?”

  “Are you kidding me, Parker?” I yell. “You don’t care about me. You only think of how everything affects you. That’s why I’m being like this.”

  Parker pulls off into a scenic overlook where one other car is parked above a valley of rolling hills. I don’t understand what’s so special about it.

  He stares out the windshield, a muscle ticking in his jaw. When he finally speaks, his voice is low and controlled. “I can be a jackass sometimes, I know. And say really pompous things.” He turns to face me and takes my hand. “But I do care about you, Lana. And I want to help.”

  “Me or yourself?”

  “Why do you say that?”

  I try to ignore the hint of hurt in his voice. “I know that you’re one of the organizers, and what happened in the stairwell can come back on you if anyone finds out. You need me to keep my mouth shut so you don’t get busted.”

  “But you wouldn’t tell anyone, I know that. I trust you.”

  “Maybe I should say something.”

  Parker doesn’t respond. Instead, he pulls his hand away and adjusts in his seat to face the windshield again.

  “A girl is lying in the hospital in a coma. Don’t you think that’s more important than your illegal business?”

  Parker turns his head toward me. “Of course. But neither you or I put her there. And letting the police know about the party won’t make a difference. That’s not what’s going to help her.”

  “But saying who pushed her, will.” It’s the obvious conclusion, if only it were that simple.

  “Then tell them.”

  His encouragement takes me by surprise.

  “What?”

  “Tell them who did it. Don’t continue to protect them.”

  I fall back against the seat, defeated. “I’m not protecting him.”

  “Then what? Is it the other girl? Are you worried about her saying something to the police? She was wasted. She could barely tell me what she saw that night, forget about now.”

  “She saw me. Only me.”

  “But she didn’t see what happened. She came in after.”

  “Right. But I was the only one there. She can identify me. Then I’ll either be forced to tell or …” It’ll be the convenience store all over again. “I don’t have any proof.”

  “Who—”

  “Don’t ask me. I won’t tell you.”

  “Why? Because you don’t trust me?”

  “Because it won’t make a difference if you know,” I say, using his words against him. “I’ll figure something out. I just want Allie to be okay.” I blink back the tears that have invaded my vision. “She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She was trying to help me …”

  “Hey,” Parker soothes, unbuckling his seatbelt and mine to pull me against his chest. I don’t resist. “I want you to be okay. Please let me help you. I really do want to, and not for selfish reasons, I swear.”

  “You can’t,” I murmur, my face pressed against his shoulder.

  “Tell me this and we can drop it, for now.” Parker tilts my head up to look into his delving blue eyes. “I heard what Allie said at the hospital. Whoever he is, are you afraid he’s going to hurt you?”

  The concern in his eyes is authentic, and I feel like a bitch for believing he was that selfish. His question is too complicated for a simple truth. Because honestly, Vic might try to hurt me. He’s capable of anything, I’m aware of that.

  My eyes are unwavering; I want to be sure he can see my conviction. “I’m not afraid.”

  “I’ve decided to sing for you,” he told Thaylina once they entered her home.

  Thaylina squealed delightedly, wishing for nothing more.

  “But first, you must do something for me.” He unfastened his satin cloak and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was heavy on her delicate frame.

  “What is it you want?” Thaylina asked, more curious than frightened.

  It’s strange walking into the Great Hall and finding people sitting at the tables for dinner. I’d somehow gotten used to the stillness on campus the past couple of days. Although I can’t say the same for its eeriness.

  I find Lance seated with Ashton and Brendan at the table in the corner that I always gravitate to.

  “How was The Grille?” Ashton asks when I sit.

  “Messy,” I answer, making her laugh. “What did you do today?”

  “Went shopping … online. I was granted internet privileges so I could try to find something to wear for the Ever After Ball.”

  “Right. The Ball,” I say with a pained expression. “It feels weird saying that. Can’t I just call it a dance?”

  “If you want. But you might offend the social committee.”

  “I don’t know who they are, so I won’t be saying it to them. When is the first dance?”

  “August nineteenth.” Ashton scoops up a mound of chocolate mousse and then turns the spoon upside down to stick in her mouth, savoring it like a lollipop.

  “Are you going as a princess?” Brendan taunts, leaning back in his chair with an ankle propped on his kne
e. He looks so smug; I want to kick the chair out from under him just to watch him fall on his ass. I return his smartass remark with a flip of my finger. He shouldn’t be surprised by my hostility every time he calls me by that nickname. I’m pretty sure he says it just to piss me off.

  “Maybe you should go as the angry pixie,” Lance chuckles. “You kinda already have that down.”

  “You might want to start searching soon,” Ashton adds.

  “We have two months,” I gape, not comprehending the importance of finding the right costume for a stupid dance.

  “It’ll be here before you know it.”

  “Not eating?” Brendan asks with a smirk. I never know what he knows, or what he pretends he doesn’t, for whatever twisted reason. It drives me crazy. I’m convinced he’s determined to press every single button I have until I’m forced to murder him.

  “I already ate.”

  “Please don’t tell me you had the staff meal?” Ashton remarks with a horrified expression.

  “No. I went out to eat.”

  Lance’s attention flashes to me. He knows. Before either Ashton or Brendan can ask who I went out with—I see the question dancing in Ashton’s eyes—Lance asks, “Did you open the present from your mother?”

  “Uh,” I eye him suspiciously. “Not yet. But I will when I get back to my room.”

  Ashton and Brendan glance between us, picking up on the not-so-subtle private message Lance is trying to convey about the gift I received from Niall this morning. Now I’m pretty sure we all know it isn’t from my mother.

  “So,” I say loudly, to redirect the conversation. “What’s everyone doing tomorrow? Are you going to Stefan’s?”

  “That’s right!” Ashton exclaims, her eyes lighting. “It’s the first party of the summer! His parties are always so amazing.” Then she flops back in the chair, deflating just as quickly. “But I don’t know how we can get there. I usually secure a ride from someone at the club.”

  “I can ask Lily,” Lance offers. I bite my cheek to keep from smiling like an idiot now that I know I’ll get to see Grant tomorrow. Seriously, what is happening to me?

  “Let us know what time,” Brendan chimes in, my excitement evaporates a little with the realization he’ll be coming too.

  “Lance, can I … talk to you?” I ask.

  “Sure,” Lance replies, a hint of curiosity in his voice. He stands and I follow him outside. “What’s up?”

  “You know about my off-campus conditions, right? That I have to be with you or one of your brothers?”

  “Yeah. My dad told me.”

  “I hope that doesn’t make things awkward for you. But I see you the most, and right now, you’re the only brother I can tolerate for any length of time.”

  Lance laughs. “No. It’s fine. Seems like we’re going to the same places most of the time anyway. I’m sure we can work it out if something comes up. My dad trusts me, but I am at Blackwood for a reason.”

  “Because you covered for your brother.”

  “Exactly. So if you ever need me to cover for you, I’m an expert.”

  I grin. “I won’t get you in trouble. That’s not why I wanted to talk to you. It’s just that we don’t have a way of communicating without phones. You and I don’t have classes together, and you don’t work at the country club, so … how can we make plans to go off-campus?”

  “Uh, right.” Lance quietly contemplates this for a moment.

  “You can always hide notes,” Ashton suggests from the other side of the top hat-shaped topiary.

  “Ashton, what about be quiet and listen did you not understand?” Brendan scolds. The two of them emerge from behind the shrubbery. I cross my arms and glower at Brendan.

  “What?” Ashton defends. “It’s not like she’s telling him something we didn’t already know. And I can help. It’s actually something I’ve always wanted to do since I started coming here, but everyone I mention it to thinks it’s stupid. They prefer to pass notes, which is so 1990.”

  “And hiding them probably puts us back another century,” Brendan says with an exhausted sigh.

  “But this way, we can all see it,” Ashton sneers playfully at Brendan. “Like a group text. Especially since most of the time, we’ll be going together anyway. Like tomorrow, Lance can leave a note letting us know when Lily’s picking us up … if she can.”

  Lance looks to me for approval. I shrug. “It’s better than the no idea I had.”

  “Where?” Lance asks Ashton. Her Cheshire smile emerges, and I know she already has a spot picked out.

  We follow her to the birch forest. I can’t say I’m surprised by this. Nor am I surprised when she pulls out the vape and sealed box from within the hollow of a birch tree. The hole is small, barely large enough for Lance to fit his hand inside. And because it’s so small, it blends in with the rest of the black marks on the trunk. But it’s also deep, hiding whatever’s inside below the line of sight.

  “How do you possibly remember which tree it is?” Lance asks, looking around at the trees that all blend together in their scattered white and black pattern.

  “I remember the number five,” Ashton explains simply.

  When we all stare at her in bemusement, she continues. “Three over from the edge of the swing and two forward.”

  “I … guess,” Lance says, like he can’t quite see the pattern. But I have to smile, because only Ashton would remember it this way. And because it is so arbitrary, we’ll probably never forget.

  “I have an old jewelry box that will fit in there perfectly. We can leave the notes inside.”

  Ashton and I sit on the swing, sharing her vape, while we work out the mechanics of secret note passing in a tree. I had no idea the complexities that would go into signaling that a note is hidden, and indicating who sent it and read it. But we eventually work it all out, and it’s hopefully easy to remember. And the fact that we’re resorting to hiding notes in trees to pass along messages is sad in its own right. But it’s better than throwing hollowed acorns in each other’s windows.

  When we return to the main path, I pause at the entrance of the rose trellis, watching Brendan and Lance continue toward their dorm. Ashton already left us to go to the library. Brendan must sense me lingering because he looks over his shoulder just before they disappear. A few seconds later, he re-emerges, without Lance.

  “I’ll answer five of your questions, if you answer five of mine.” Maybe it’s the mellowing effect of the THC that’s making me so accommodating, because originally I was only going to answer three.

  He grins. “Why five?”

  “I was inspired by Ashton,” I reply with an inadvertent giggle.

  “These questions cannot be left inside the birch tree,” he stresses. “It’s in-person only.”

  “Of course,” I say like he’s crazy for even having to say it. “I would never want the others to know, or have it in writing.”

  “Good,” he says in relief. “I’ll figure out where and when and let you know.”

  “Okay.”

  “Why’d you change your mind?”

  “Because I have a thing for knowing the truth.”

  “It’s the only thing worth knowing.” He winks before disappearing around the corner.

  The first thing I do when I reach my room is dump out my personal possessions onto the bed, hoping my phone is inside and Niall overlooked it. But of course he didn’t. The most valuable thing in it is my leather jacket, which I’m thrilled to have back. I’m shocked to find the tip money in a sealed plastic baggie. I lift the wedding band from the small pile of rings and bracelets I was wearing that night.

  “Fucker.” Of course I mean the man and not the ring. I wonder how Nick explained its absence to his wife. Which then makes me think of my mom.

  And even though—or maybe because—I’m high, the worry that swarms inside of me feels as heavy as storm clouds. My mother isn’t inept, but she’s not responsible either. We looked out for each other. She calms me wh
en I can’t see beyond my own rage, which is usually incited by someone who hurt her. And I do everything I can to keep her from being hurt.

  Now … she’s hurting and I can’t be there for her.

  I’m stuck here, unable to help her heart heal. She can’t hear my words telling her she’s so much better than half the people in her life. That they don’t deserve her kindness or forgiveness. That I wish she didn’t believe so easily. And she in return would say that she wishes I would trust more. That I should allow more people in so they can experience how caring and loving I truly am. I would then shrug off her words, allowing the anger to grow until it billows out and I end up in a fight with someone who says the wrong thing, or takes advantage of space that doesn’t belong to them, or touches a part of me no one has a right to touch.

  My mother would be waiting for me with an ice pack and a sorrowful expression. But never a lecture about how disappointed she is. She doesn’t need to. Her eyes tell me more than that. They tell me she blames herself for who I’ve become, only making me angrier. Which makes being here that much worse, because right now we can’t be there for each other. And I really need her now, probably as much as she needs me.

  The heaviness of the storm swirling inside me turns volatile quickly. I let out a growling scream of frustration and tear the mountain of decorative throw pillows from the bed and pelt them across the room.

  “I don’t belong here!” My words are filled with anger, desperation, and helplessness.

  I collapse on the bed and scream into a pillow at the top of my lungs. I keep screaming until there isn’t any air left and the sound chokes out of me. I don’t realize I’m crying until I lift my face and see the wet marks left behind.

  A knock draws my attention. “Lana?” Ashton calls from the other side. “Can I come in?”

  I brush the dampness from my cheeks and let out a long breath to collect myself before answering.

  There’s a woeful look on Ashton’s face when she enters, and before I know what’s happening, she’s bending over and wrapping her arms around me. She practically suffocates me within her fierce hug, my face pressed into the sharp angles of her shoulder. I’m too shocked to do anything but hang limply with my arms by my side. When it’s obvious she doesn’t plan on letting go, I hug her back.