“Really?” Now I’m intrigued. “Why did they both…?”
“Your mom is the majority whip, but my dad has the president’s ear. They each want something from the other. Isn’t that how Washington works?” Chace rolls his eyes, and I feel a sudden rush of affection for him. I wish it didn’t have to end like this—before it even started.
“It’s not only that,” I admit. “I think my mom has some kind of dream of a…I don’t know, a power alliance through us. Or something like that.” My face heats up. “So were you just playing along yesterday, then?”
“At first.” Chace reaches out and briefly touches my shoulder. “But my dad failed to mention how cool and un-Washington you are.”
I laugh in spite of myself.
“She was cool and un-Washington. That should be my epitaph one day.”
“And so pretty, it’s almost blinding.”
He says it under his breath, and I wonder if I misheard. But when our eyes meet, I know he meant it.
“I wonder…” I bite my lip, daring myself to say it. “I wonder if giving our parents what they want could be its own kind of rebellion.”
“I like the way you think,” he replies.
We fall back into step, and for the rest of the walk back to the dorms, we’re quiet. It’s as if we’ve said too much, and must now make up for our confessions with silence. When he drops me off at the door to the girls’ dorm, he doesn’t say goodbye.
“See you soon,” he says instead. And I know something is beginning.
“Though time may help you forget
All that has happened before…”
The cop and the detective finally dismiss me after an hour of questioning, tearing open my insides and forcing me to lay myself bare as they searched the hidden corners of my heart. I know my answers left them dissatisfied; I saw the frustration written in their eyes every time I had to say the words I don’t remember or I don’t know. But at last they let me go, handing over their business cards and urging me to call if I think of anything that could help the case.
“We’ll be in touch,” Detective Kimble says, patting my arm as she walks me to the door. I hope she’s wrong about that. I hope I never have to see either of their faces again.
I manage to keep it together as I shuffle out of the headmaster’s office and back into the hallway. My eyes remain trained on the carpeted floor, my head down, trying to block the sound of my classmates’ grief from my ears. I keep it all in, holding my breath, as I step outside and cross the quad.
Then I’m running.
The tears lodged in my throat break free and I can’t see where I’m going, the moisture blurs my vision. But I know where I’m headed. My body shudders with sobs and I crumple to the ground, gripping fistfuls of grass and dirt.
“Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am home again.”
His warm voice fills my mind, singing a song that once was ours. I look up wildly, half expecting to see him standing before me, extending a hand to help me up as he tells me about the elaborate prank he pulled. But I’m all alone, lying in the field of dandelions beneath the wooden bridge—the place we used to call our little sliver of heaven.
“Whenever I’m alone with you,
You make me feel like I am whole again,”
I whisper back.
There’s no answer, of course. I lie back against the grass, curling into the fetal position, and close my eyes. Maybe if I stay like this, if I don’t move…it will all go away.
“Nicole. Nicole.”
I blink back into consciousness. A boy’s tall shadowy frame stands above me, his head bowed as he watches me with a frown. It’s Ryan Wyatt, Chace’s roommate and closest friend at Oyster Bay.
Chace. The horror of it all comes flooding back and I sit up quickly, the blood rushing to my head.
“Did—did—” My throat is like sandpaper. “Did you hear?”
Ryan kneels down to my level. The broken expression on his face tells me everything I need to know.
“He’s gone,” I whisper. My throat closes up around the words, I’m struggling to breathe. Ryan grips my shoulders.
“Nicole, you can’t fall apart,” he warns me, but the ragged edge to his voice lets me know he’s been crying, too. “You’ve got to keep it together. Do it for Chace.”
I shake my head violently.
“Why? He’s—he’s—”
“Then do it for you,” Ryan says more sharply. “The cops are in my room right now, digging into everything of Chace’s—his phone, computer, all of it. That means they’re going to find out about you guys. You’ve got to get your head straight.”
I fall back against the grass, spreading my arms like some sad snow angel.