“You’re cheating,” he said, and his voice was a little dull around the edges. “You’re not even . . . You’re not making all those scores that you’re known for.”
“Yep,” she said, and suddenly, she was bitter. “I’m a big old cheat. I’m too stupid to make the grades that my family expects for real, and so I have to be creative. So if you listen to what’s on that flash drive, you’ll just hear almost exactly what was on Stratford’s test.”
“Why not use notes like everyone else?” Tyler asked.
Kinley half smiled. “Teachers check notes. Remember Cade? If they ever happened to notice I was wearing an earpiece . . . well, what teacher in their right mind would make a student remove a hearing aid? Talk about a lawsuit.”
Tyler laughed, but Kinley couldn’t tell if there was any humor in it at all. “I don’t believe it.”
“Don’t believe what?” Kinley drew her knees up and rested her elbows on them.
“That you’re not smart enough to get the grades on your own.” He began to laugh again then, a little more. “You’re kind of an evil genius, aren’t you? God, this is so messed up. This is like a movie: the perfect girl with a dirty secret.” He laughed harder, and she shoved him, and suddenly she was laughing too, even though her heart hurt and she wasn’t sure if she found anything funny. It came from a strange place deep inside of her, where something was coming loose.
“Will you give it back?” Kinley managed finally, when her gut was aching from so much laughter. “Please?”
“Yeah,” Tyler said. “I think I can do that.”
And they sat together amid the mess for a while. When they moved, they didn’t talk much, but Tyler helped her fold all of her clothes and straighten the trophies and rehang the ribbons that had fallen in the search. That night, they didn’t kiss at all.
And Kinley wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Tyler
Saturday, June 20
Guilt was a funny thing.
Tyler sat on the couch in his living room. The TV was on—more for company than anything else, since neither of his parents were home—but he didn’t even know what channel it was. The remote was on the coffee table, unused.
It was screwed up, Tyler thought, how the principal emotions were considered to be love and hate. Love and hate controlled everything. Except they didn’t.
Guilt did.
Guilt, like they’d discussed the first day of class. Guilt, for what they’d done to Stratford. Guilt, for tossing his body in the river like so much shit.
For causing his wife so much worry.
And now, for stealing Kinley’s earpiece. Beautiful, clever, cheating, lying Kinley.
He couldn’t stop thinking about her. And he wanted to. He desperately wanted to.
He reached forward for the remote and began clicking through. Blindly. Watching a man demonstrate a blender. A woman on an obstacle course, climbing an impossible wall. An old man, dying, while a young man watched him.
Another news report about Stratford. It flashed to a picture of his family—Stratford, actually smiling, and not in the angry half way that he did in class. The bastard was really smiling, with his arm around his wife.
And his daughter, blond haired and gap-toothed, sat in front of them.
He had a daughter.
Tyler felt his heart collapse in on itself.
He’d helped cover up the murder of a man with a daughter. A wife. A family. He’d been more than the crotchety old man who despised his students. He’d had a life. He was a real person, not the mean-teacher caricature that Tyler had been erecting in his mind.
“Hey, Ty.”
Tyler jumped. He hadn’t realized anyone was home. Jacob held out his hands, palms up. “Whoa. Calm down, buddy.”
“I’m fine,” Tyler said. He tossed Jacob the remote. “I’m going to bed.”
“Bed?” Jacob squinted at him. “Dude. It’s seven thirty.”
Tyler didn’t look at his brother. He just walked past him, toward the stairs that led to his bedroom.
“I need more.”
Jacob’s voice was cold and clear and desperate. Tyler turned around, halfway up the stairs. “Sorry, bro. I told you to make that stuff last. My probation officer is putting the pressure on. I have to keep my nose clean.”
It wasn’t a complete lie.
Jacob jogged up a couple stairs to face his brother. “Please? I need it.” His face was tight and pleading; his lower lip jutted out.
Tyler stared through him. “Find it from someone else. I’m not your guy anymore.”
“Shit, Tyler. No one gets the shit you get. I can’t risk it showing up in a drug test. I’m begging you, dude.”
Tyler leaned back against the wall. “Don’t you want to actually win on your own for once without steroids?”
“Just enough to get me through the summer,” Jacob begged. “I have a scout coming to a summer meet next week to watch me. I need it for that, and then I’ll stop.”
“And then what? You get recruited and screw up your sophomore season because you quit?”