Death, and the Girl He Loves - Page 12/68

Who would I go to? I couldn’t tell the headmaster. The police. Who would believe me?

How much should I bring out into the open? How much should I reveal to Wade? Should I tell him I knew everything? Would that dissuade him? Divert him from his current path? Or would that just rev up his plans? Throw him into overdrive? Get myself killed even faster?

“I’m not hungry,” I said to Crystal, scooting my chair back from the table.

Wade straightened, his suspicions causing the barest hint of a grin to twitch the corners of his mouth.

“Do you feel bad again?” she asked me, alarmed.

“Yes, I do. I’m sorry.” I started to rise, but I could hardly leave Crystal alone with a bona fide psychopath. She needed to know who he was. What he was. And she needed to steer all kinds of clear of this guy. What a whack job.

Then again, how did I explain this to her? My position was too precarious. Too much was at stake for me to risk anything. I had to survive the next few days. I had to at least try to stop the coming war.

Left with little choice, I realized I had to leave. Now. I could hardly fight him. A knife in even the most inept hands was a very dangerous weapon. It wasn’t like I knew karate. Or judo. Or Pilates. I totally should have watched more Bruce Lee movies growing up. Considering my lack of experience, I didn’t stand a chance against him. He seemed quite determined. And agile.

I’d made up my mind. Tonight I would sneak out, buy a plane ticket, and go home.

WITNESS PROTECTION

I took Crystal’s arm and dragged her behind me. Wade nodded a good-bye as we left, biding his time, I supposed. The halls were beginning to fill with students filtering toward the dining hall. He couldn’t very well stab me there, not without expecting some serious prison time.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Crystal asked me for the seventh time.

I thrust her inside our room, then started tearing through it again, realizing in my haste I’d forgotten to get a weapon. Wonderful. First I changed into civvies; then I started throwing things into my canvas bag, not worrying about my uniforms. I needed to travel light. I was busy picking out my essentials like hair gel and toothpaste when a knock sounded at the door.

Crystal had been talking, but she stopped and looked at me. “Should I answer it?”

I slammed my eyes shut when I noticed I hadn’t locked it. Of all the boneheaded things not to do. Holding up a hand to her, I tiptoed over and turned the bolt. The lock slid into place before I asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Kenya. You dropped your phone.”

I gasped and tore through the pockets of my school jacket. It was gone. I was just about to open the door when another thought hit. Maybe they were working together. Didn’t she just talk about stabbing me to death? How could she have known that?

“Just leave it by the door. I think I have a stomach virus. I don’t want to get you sick.”

Crystal gave me a thumbs-up for my quick thinking. We waited. I pressed my ear to the door, hoping to hear retreating footsteps. Instead, I heard the bolt on my door turn. Before I could relock it, Kenya crashed through the door. I stumbled back but caught myself fast. Not that it would help. Like Wade, she also carried a knife. I was beginning to see Crystal’s point about our security measures being a tad lax.

“What are you doing?” Kenya asked, taking in the disarray of our room.

“How did you open my door?”

She showed me a key. A master key like the custodians used. Perfect. “Again, what are you doing?”

“Laundry,” I said. “Can I just have my phone?”

My stomach churned, so if Kenya pushed it, I was pretty sure I could prove to her I felt nauseated.

She tossed the phone to me, closed the door behind her, then strolled over and sat on top of my desk like she owned the world.

“What are you doing?” I asked her, fear causing a line of sweat under my nose and over my brows.

She took out her switchblade and pointed to my surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“I already told you.” I spotted the note on the desk beside her and looked away quickly. Too quickly.

She picked it up, opened it, and studied it for several tense heartbeats. Did she know about it? Was she in on the whole thing? I didn’t see her in my vision of Wade, but I rarely got a whole picture.

“Interesting artwork,” she said, folding it and placing it back where she found it. She pulled her bottom lip through her teeth, then as abruptly as a lightning burst, jumped off the desk and strolled out of the room. Right before she closed the door, she turned to me and said, “Do not leave this room.” Then she slammed the door.

What? Was I supposed to sit there and wait for her to come back and knife me? Not even.

“Holy crap, lock the door!” she yelled from the hallway.

I rushed forward and locked it. Not that it would help.

I turned to Crystal. “How did she get a master key?”

Her eyes were wide when she lifted her shoulders.

“Well, I have to finish packing.” I dived into my work again, sorting through my things. I brought way more than I’d thought.

“I still don’t get why you’re leaving,” she said.

I seemed to be hurting her feelings. “I have to get home. Back to New Mexico ay-sap. My grandmother called and my grandfather is in the hospital.”

I didn’t want to tell her too much too soon. If Wade thought she knew something, she could be in danger. I’d explain to her once I was gone. Once the danger of having me around had passed.