I pound my fist on the shiny oval table. “There’s got to be someplace else! Somewhere better!”
“You have to be invisible until we need you. It’s imperative you’re not found.” His face bunches with desperation. “And I’m not just talking about the case. Your life is on the line right now.” His eyes flicker with something he’s not willing to say. I narrow my gaze, searching for more, but he looks away, rubbing the back of his neck with a heavy sigh. “I know it’s hard. We’ve put you in a really horrible position, but you came to us for help. You want justice for Robbie, right?”
I slump back into the chair. The leather smells new.
Gripping the arms, my body starts to tremble. My eyes are burning again, threatening to overflow.
“It’s not forever.” Rybeck sighs. “You just need to keep your head down and stay safe. Once this is over you’ll get your life back.”
“I’m never going to get my life back,” I mutter. “I sealed my fate the second I walked into that police station and opened my mouth.”
Rybeck brushes my arm, then pulls out one of the plush conference room chairs pushed against the wall. Taking a seat beside me, he swivels around so we’re facing each other. “You did the right thing.”
“It doesn’t feel like it. I’m betraying my family.”
“You’re sending a guilty man to prison. There’s nothing wrong with that.”
I close my eyes and turn away from him. A tear slips free. I wipe it off my skin.
“Hey.” Rybeck squeezes my shoulder. “Where’s all this coming from? Are you getting bullied? Do you need me to step in?”
I shrug him off me.
“Which guy is it? I’m happy to try and get him expelled for ya.”
I snicker and shake my head. My mind bounces from Ivan to Trey. Both are dangerous.
Ironically, it’s the nicer one who poses the bigger threat.
“It’s okay,” I finally mumble, wiping another tear off my cheek. “I can handle it.”
“You’re one of the strongest teenagers I’ve ever met. You know that?”
I scoff, then sniff.
“Turns out the pre-trial date isn’t going to happen until after Thanksgiving.” Rybeck taps his finger on the table. “I’ve advised Headmaster Williams to keep you here.”
“Yeah, thanks for that.”
“It’s the safest bet.”
I make a face, showing him how much I hate it.
He squeezes my shoulder again. “Once this is over, you’ll get a new life. One that involves a beating heart.”
My gaze snaps to his. He gives me an abashed smile and rubs his neck again, still hiding something.
“Just please stay here and do the right thing. Don’t draw any attention to yourself. Don’t piss off any more teachers. Just keep your head down, stay clean, and make it to that witness stand, all right?”
He doesn’t give me a chance to reply.
Shooting out of his chair, he opens the door and beckons me to follow him. Once we reach reception, he hugs me goodbye, putting on the perfect show as Headmaster Williams comes out to greet him.
And then he’s gone and I’m directed to the pokey desk in the corner to write out the entire Eton Prep Code of Conduct.
I think it’s safe to say my brilliant plan was an epic fail.
My life couldn’t suck anymore if I tried.
Will my new life be any better?
It’ll involve a beating heart. Well, that’s comforting. If the dull thud in my chest is anything to go by, I’m not sure I even want one.
Closing my eyes, I bang my forehead on the desk and wonder how the hell I’m going to make it to pre-trial, let alone testify against someone I’m supposed to call family.
#14:
Not My Problem
Trey
I didn’t see Chris for the rest of the day.
Mr. Adler returned to class, still red and dissatisfied.
I found out later that Chris was given a strike one. He’s also been put on in-house suspension, including Thanksgiving. Apparently his dad showed up and gave him an earful.
Too bad for him.
It’s not my problem.
But it is.
Because I can’t stop thinking about him.
And I can’t stop wondering if I’m the reason he wants to get expelled.
It’s pissing me off. I don’t want to waste my emotion on the guy, and I hate that I can’t stop obsessing over it.
The only thing I can do is just ignore him and get on with my life.
So we had a good time skating and cleaning a bathroom together. Big deal. Whatever. So I totally understand what it’s like to have an old man who doesn’t get where you’re coming from. Who’d rather have you miles away than sitting at your Thanksgiving table with his new, shinier family.
Chris Lorden is not my problem.
My dad is not my problem.