One Tiny Secret

Chapter Twenty

The drive to school the next day seems like it takes forever. I’ve driven this way so many times, but never has it seemed this long before. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I can’t stop thinking about how fragile my life has become, and it’s all thanks to one individual. At any moment, things could come crashing down around me, more than they already have. Trying to muster the courage and strength to prepare for that is beyond exhausting. It doesn’t help that the one person who can do something about it won’t because he doesn’t believe me and thinks I’m making all of this up to get attention. My dad actually asked me again if I was doing this in retaliation for Mom leaving. Seriously?

To say the least, breakfast (if you could call what I had “breakfast”) this morning was a quiet affair, with both of us trying to start sentences, but then letting them trail off. I don’t even know what to say to him anymore, which is sad because we used to talk all the time.

The only high point last night was seeing Rory at the hospital. He was still shaken up by the whole thing, but that was understandable. So was I. I fought with myself to tell him what really happened, but even I didn’t truly know. Sure, I could’ve told him about the unknown stalker, but if that was to get out, who knows what else this sicko would do to the ones I love?

The even suckier part was that Rory still didn’t have any recollection of what happened. He said that he felt drugged after I rescued him, but thought it was because he almost drowned. It wasn’t until the feeling still lingered well after he was at the hospital that he began to question it.

After he told me this, I made the connection to when I woke up the morning after the party in Parker’s dorm after passing out. I asked Rory if the hospital did any kind of test on him to see if there was a drug in his system. Apparently, there wasn’t any trace of one. The only conclusion I could come to was that we were both drugged by the same person—Unknown.

Pulling into the senior parking lot, I’m surprised to see how empty it is. I know I’m a little early, but that’s only because I couldn’t stand being stuck at home amongst the awkward silence any longer.

The overcast sky and dark, ominous clouds hovering overhead seem fitting for a day like this. As I plod toward the school building, the sound of flyers flapping in the wind surrounds me, creating a twisted melody to my ears. There seems to be at least thirty flyers per lamppost now, with more being added every day. The flyers don’t end there, though. They’re on every bulletin board, on the walls in every hallway, in every classroom…it feels like all of them stare at me, judging me for a false crime. I can almost hear Hattie cursing my name as she hung every one of them.

There are a few stragglers peppered throughout the hall as I walk to Mr. Whitman’s office. Something feels off, but I can’t put my finger on it. A gut feeling nags me.

Mr. Whitman’s door is closed. When I reach for the handle to turn it, it’s locked. He’s usually here early. This doesn’t make any sense. Then it occurs to me that I didn’t see his car in the teacher’s lot when I walked in. I hope everything’s okay, especially after what happened yesterday.

Leaning up against the wall next to his office door, I slide down it to sit on the ground. I fiddle with the clasp on my messenger bag. Worry starts to set in as the minutes tick by and he still doesn’t show.

The halls are now bustling with activity and there’s still no sign of Mr. Whitman. After the tardy bell rings, I decide to head to the front office to see if he’s called in. The receptionist’s desk is just down the hall and around the corner from the office, but unfortunately there’s a line. Feeling impatient, I slyly lean over the desk to get the receptionist’s attention.

“Excuse me, do you know if Mr. Whitman has called in today?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s a line of people in front of you,” she replies.

“I know, but I have independent study with him right now and he isn’t here. So, could you please check to see if he called in? I don’t want to keep waiting there if he isn’t going to show.”

She sends me a quick glare before sifting through a few papers on the desk in front of her.

Seeming to find what she was looking for, she says, “Yes, Mr. Whitman did call in today due to illness. Is there anything else I can help you with?” she asks, with an eyebrow turned up.

“No, that’s it. Thanks.”

I don’t really know how I should feel right now. On the one hand, he called in, but on the other hand, did he actually call in? The thought of this being a part of Unknown’s sick plan creeps into my mind and fills me with unease. I wish I had Mr. Whitman’s cell number on hand so I could check up on him.

Rounding the corner to head back toward Mr. Whitman’s office, I see Parker standing in front of his door. Great, he’s like the last person I want to see right now. When he turns to me, a slight smile shows on his face. It kind of infuriates me how cool, calm, and collected guys can be sometimes, even after you’ve caught them in a lie—and a serious one at that.

“What are you doing here?”

“Hello to you too,” he replies with a laugh.

I don’t respond. I just give him a look of “Well?”

“Mr. Whitman sent me an email. He wanted me to fill in for him today.”

“Oh,” I say, feeling like I may have made more out of this situation than I really needed to.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about my—”

“Stop,” I interrupt.

“Wow, so it’s going to be like that, huh? I guess this is why you haven’t returned any of my calls or texts.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind lately,” I state, avoiding a direct answer.

“You’re not the only one,” he replies, looking intently in my direction, but then his eyes soften.

“I’m not getting into this with you right now, okay? There’s so much going on, and the last thing I want is to bring some superficial high school relationship crap into it,” I mutter, wanting this conversation to just wither and die.

“Is that seriously how you see us? I really hope not, because I sure as hell don’t feel that way.”

I don’t know how to reply. I don’t actually think our relationship is superficial, but it’s kind of hard to express anything else right now. Especially after finding out he’s had an effing girlfriend this whole time.

I hear him laugh to himself. “I guess I got my answer.”

“I guess so.”

“Dani, we’re going to have to talk about this sooner or later,” he presses, moving closer to me.

“I’d prefer later. Much, much later. After what happened last night, I can’t deal with us too,” I respond, taking a step back.

“What happened last night?” he asks, taking a step forward while trying to get me to look at him.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What do you mean, ‘don’t worry about it?’ What happened? You can trust me.” He attempts to touch my arm.

I pull away. “Oh, really? I can trust you? That’s frickin’ hilarious, Parker. My sides hurt from laughing so much,” I say, shaking my head at him.

“Don’t be like that. You know I’ve been there for you this whole time—”

“Except when you were with your girlfriend,” I snap, interrupting him again. I’m desperate for this conversation to be over.

He goes silent for a moment and just stares at me. I can see that he’s thinking of a rebuttal, but I’m not sure he has one.

Finally, he says, “I f*cked up, okay? Is that what you want to hear? I saw you at that silly Halloween party and all the feelings I had for you came back. Yes, I had a girlfriend—”

“Had?”

“Yeah, had. We broke up when I told her about you and me.”

“As she should’ve,” I reply.

“Okay, I deserve that. But I also think I deserve some trust from you. I think I’ve proven myself lately, sans the girlfriend thing. I don’t want you to go through this alone, Dani.”

I want to believe him so much, but it’s hard. Why does he have to be the only one who knows the truth? Oh yeah, that’s right…because I was the one that freakin’ told him.

I take in a deep breath before my words come spilling out. “We can’t talk here. I don’t want to risk it.”

“Risk what, exactly?”

“Certain people hearing. I have no idea who Unknown is, and for all I know, he or she could go to this school. So, if you’ll please just put this off ‘til later, I’d really appreciate it.”

“Later then?” he asks.

“Sure, whatever. Just drop it for now, please?”

“Well, I guess I better track someone down who has keys to the newspaper office.”

“Probably,” is all I mutter, causing him to look at me and proceed to move past me. I turn to watch him walk away.

Parker waves his hand, but never looks back. “I look forward to our chat.”

I wish I would’ve just gotten everything off my chest right then and there. I’m so effing stubborn sometimes. Not to mention, I have a key to the newspaper room in my bag.

As the bell’s ring echoes throughout the hall, ending first period, I acknowledge that sooner or later my talk with Parker is going to happen. I’m just not sure if I’ll be ready for it when it does.