Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

GREY

I don't know which is more disconcerting—Redwood Prep thinking I'm sleeping with a student (which is now true) or the school thinking I murdered Harris (which is not true).

At least the first allegation had legs.

From the moment Zane Cross returned from tour, he's been inappropriate with me and I've been unable to keep my cool around him. Had I been in the students' shoes, I would have raised an eyebrow at our interactions as well.

The question I need answered is: who offed Harris and covered the tracks?

I know that's what happened, even if the police closed the case and wrote it off as a suicide. To them, Harris was a hopeless man who gave up after losing his career.

That's what Redwood Prep thinks too.

The truth is funny that way. Put into a different context, what really happened is way less relevant than what looks like it happened.

Beverly S. Harless said, ‘ every life is a story' . If Principal Harris became the victim in his story, guess who just became his villain?

Dark stares follow me on my way to the teacher's lounge.

I grip my books tighter and walk with my head held high, despite the shaking in my legs. The hallway parts for me, as it has since rumors of my relationship with Zane broke out.

The students at Redwood both fear and revere The Kings. The mere hint of an alliance with them is enough to ‘other' someone. To bring them closer to royalty. Deserved or no.

It's off-putting the way loyalties twist and turn in the wind.

But that shouldn't surprise me.

Things have always been twisted and upside down in this school. It's why something as depraved as The Grateful Project could bloom at an otherwise prestigious academy. The way right becomes wrong and wrong becomes right so easily at Redwood is a virus.

And you're just as infected by the disease.

I push the thought aside.

"Good morning, Maisy." I nod to one of my highest performing students.

She glares at me, slams her locker shut and stalks off.

Okay then.

I shudder and wrap my arms more securely around my Classic Literature textbook. Redwood Prep feels extra cold today. The vaulted ceilings, cathedral-like windows, and marble floors welcome me like the stoic step-mother to Cinderella.

"Wasn't she fired?"

"What is she doing back?"

"Did she really kill Harris?"

Whispers bite into me like tiny mosquitos. A swarm, building and building until it's buzzing in my ears.

"Ugh, I'd forgotten how stodgy this school was. A fresh coat of paint and some upgrades, but it's still the same gateway to hell."

I glance over at Sloane. She's wearing her pressed button-down, Redwood prep skirt and has her hair up in a ponytail.

"You're back."

"Miss me?"

"Just trying to find a pattern is all. You were missing all night."

She shrugs . "Guess your Zane-brain lasts longer than either of us expected."

"My," I glance around and whisper, " Zane -brain?"

"Yeah. Like, you know how love sends all these endorphins and dopamine spikes through your brain and makes rational thinking kinda fuzzy? Once you and Zane start… you know, you suddenly can't see me."

"I can't see you or you're not there?" I gnaw worriedly on my bottom lip. Memories of Zane's mouth stroking a line between my chest and thighs makes me hot. If Sloane was present but invisible yesterday…

"You… can't see me?"

I startle and look up at the freshman who's staring at me in confusion.

She waves a hand slowly in front of her face. "Were you talking about me?"

Oh crap. I was talking to Sloane out loud again.

Laughing sheepishly, I pull my phone out and tap it.

She looks relieved.

I scramble ahead while Sloane laughs uproariously beside me. "You should see your face!"

"How about you make yourself scarce when I'm at school?" I mumble into the phone. "You're distracting."

"Hey, I don't want to be here as much as you don't want me here."

My steps slow. I give her a thoughtful scan. "Sloane, you still haven't told me. That night… what happened?—"

"Oh look. Sol is here."

I look head and notice Sol striding through the hallway. When I glance back, Sloane is gone.

Huh.

When I return my attention to Sol, he's spotted me and is coming over. As usual, the crowd parts for him. He's a head and shoulders above them, wearing a faded Redwood Prep jacket, vintage Tee and casual jeans.

Almost everything he's wearing is against dress code.

But no one's going to tell him anything.

Sol is one of The Kings. Although he isn't a Cross by blood, he carries the same dangerous charisma. In fact, the dangerous end of that charisma has only gotten stronger since his debut as a school arsonist.

It's funny how, if it had been any other student, I would have reported the crime immediately. And yet, because the culprit is a scholarship kid like me, I did my part in covering it up and even encouraged Sol to set more fires.

I really am a hypocrite.

Sol gets closer to me and tips his chin up. Usually, I'd respond with a calm ‘good morning' and keep on walking. I used to steer far, far away from The Kings outside of class. Not only because of Zane but because of their real-world power.

I wasn't afraid of them, but that didn't mean I had no reason to be. Getting on The Kings' bad side would have meant possibly losing my position. I saw what they did to Mulliez. One word from them and my closest co-worker turned friend lost his reputation and his career in a day.

My mission to investigate Sloane's death meant too much. I didn't want to throw it all away because I corrected a few over privileged, bullying teenagers.

And now you're married to one of those over-privileged teenaged bullies.

I paste a polite smile on my face. "Mr. Pierce."

He nods and strides past me.

I spin and blurt, "Can I speak to you?"

Sol twists around to look at me, an eyebrow arched. His gaze meanders down to my bare ring finger before he meets my eyes with a smirk.

"He let you leave the house without your ring on?"

My hackles rise in an instant.

The answer is simple. Zane didn't let me do anything. And also… we never had that conversation.

Zane was gone when I returned from the precinct and he didn't come home all night. He also didn't answer any of my texts and I ended up hate-deleting all of my ‘where are you's and ‘are you okay's before bed.

Not that I could actually sleep.

The pillows still smelled of us.

So I ended up tossing both his pillows against the wall and turning all the lights off.

Didn't help.

My nightmares returned, and I couldn't sleep a wink.

This morning, when Zane still wasn't back, I was oddly irritable and even snapped at Viola when she offered to do my makeup for my return to Redwood. It's been a really crappy morning over-all and I don't need Sol's snark on top of it.

I shoot closer to him and hiss, "This discussion is better had in private. I'll head to the guidance counselor's office. It should be empty now. Meet me there in five?—"

He wordlessly turns away and strides down the corridor.

Heads are fixed in our direction.

Everyone is watching.

Sol stops and looks back. "Coming?"

I bite down on my bottom lip and scurry behind him. So much for being covert. "This isn't the way to the counseling room."

He slips his hands into his pockets. "I know."

Sol leads me to The Kings' private practice room and flips out his access card.

My eyes widen. "Oh no. Oh… you can't possibly think we'll meet in there?"

He tosses me a rough smirk over his shoulder and opens the door.

I remain in place, eyes darting around. The hallway is empty, but I'm sure everyone saw what direction we were headed in.

"Sol," I hiss.

He turns to face me. Leaning one arm on the door frame, he purrs, "Miss Jamieson, whether you like it or not you're one of us now. That means if you want to talk, you talk in here."

"I'm not?—"

"One of us?" He laughs. "Zane didn't give you the whole ‘you belong to me now' speech? They're into that."

"Yeah, well… a piece of paper can't transfer ownership of a person. I'm not imported goods."

Sol laughs and runs a hand through his wavy brown hair. The thick strands fall back messily over his face, making him look even more unhinged. "I know Zane likes a challenge, but I think he bit off more than he could chew with you."

"Sol."

He folds his arms over his chest and looks down at me from his ridiculously stupid height. Oversized babies. All of them.

Smirking confidently, he guesses, "You want to ask why I faked her death."

I swallow hard. Then I nod.

"And you'd rather talk out here where anyone can hear us than in there?"

I nod again.

"A'ight." He shrugs and leans more comfortably against the doorway.

"Why did you, Sol?" I whisper, my heart tightening.

Sol turns his face to the side, showing me his profile. Strong, yet oddly vulnerable.

Unlike the other students at Redwood, Sol is different. He's a scholarship kid. No yacht. No daddy with money or fame or connections. Just a kid with grit and potential. His notoriety, his respect, comes from The Kings, but that won't change who he is. Where he comes from.

I know what it's like to be at Redwood as a normal person, to fight like hell to get here, believing it was a ticket to another life, and realize that just existing is a crime to the upper class. That I'll never really be enough for them.

"Don't do that," Sol hisses.

I blink. "What?"

"Feel sorry for me."

"I'm not?—"

"It's all over your face." He chuckles but his smile is bitter. "Hate me, despise me, fear me." His eyes flash. "I can live with all of that. But don't pity me, Miss Jamieson."

The truth unfolds before me in an instant.

I was wrong.

Sol isn't like me.

Instead, he's more like the boys in my old neighborhood. The ones who dropped out to become gang members. The ones who were born into that life. Who didn't really have a choice. The ones who resigned themselves to living in darkness because they had no experience with light, who gave themselves no chance to even imagine they had a choice.

"There are some matches you shouldn't play with, Sol." I walk forward slowly, like I'm approaching a wild animal in the woods. "Some fires that shouldn't burn."

He laughs. "I didn't really kill anyone, did I?"

"No." I lower my voice, "But you're testing it out. You made it seem that way because some part of you wanted it to be true."

His brown eyes flash in my direction.

"Kill that darkness, Sol. Don't feed it. Don't ignore it. The things you ignore don't go away on their own. They only get stronger."

"Like your feelings for Zane?" He challenges.

I stiffen, stunned by the bite in his accusation. But I don't let it stop me. Sol lashing out only means that I've hit a raw nerve.

"You're not a monster," I tell him.

He shrugs big shoulders and grins, that glint of madness roaring to life in his eyes. "I want to be."

My frown is dark. "Sol…"

"You're the one who asked me to set the fire, Miss Jamieson. Let's not act holier-than-thou because I didn't do exactly what you wanted."

"You're right. I'm the one you should blame. Hold me responsible. Acknowledge what's wrong with what I did, Sol. Then you need to look inside and find the path that leads away from where I sent you."

He laughs again, the sound full of shadows and secrets. "Look, I get it. You think, because you're older than us, you know better. But I'm not telling you how to live your life. Don't tell me how to live mine."

"I'm just trying to help."

"No, you're trying to ease your guilt." His eyes harden. "Zane's obsessed with you. You never asked for that. Same with me. I'm not asking to be saved, Miss Jamieson. I'm not asking for your light. Keep that for your husband."

Sol steps back before I can say another word and shuts the door in my face.