Alice in Wonderland High (29 page)

“As soon as we go in there, we're not going to be alone.” Chess leaned into my ear. “I'm sorry, Alice. For not asking you to the dance earlier.”

I wrapped my hands around his neck. He smelled so good, like apple pie, a scent I'd never smelled on him before. I nuzzled closer to him. He was right—as soon as we went inside, this moment would be over.

I had imagined us at the dance together, me in a dress that actually fit and didn't come from Baby Gap. Him looking all dapper and clean in a suit. I pictured myself slaving over my hair, trying to coax a curling iron into altering my image. Because I'd want him to tell me I was beautiful. I'd want him to actually think I was. But that wasn't real.

This was.

Him in jeans and his same old striped shirt. My hair as boring as it always was. The two of us outside, making the most of what we had. I rested my head on his chest, and he pulled me closer to him until our bodies sealed together.

He kissed the top of my head. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

He smiled and I wanted to freeze it there on his face forever. “And . . . ?” he prompted.

“And I love . . . teasing you,” I said, instead of saying what he wanted to hear. He groaned.

We stayed like that, swaying to a stolen song.

“How'd you get away from your dad?” I asked after a verse went by, when I knew I had to snap out of the moment.

“Claimed I was job hunting. I'm guessing I have another hour or two until they figure out I'm still gone.”

“Job hunting? On a school day?”

“Yeah, that . . . I kind of quit for good after I left Wonderland. It was the only bargaining chip I had to try to get back here.”

That left a bad taste in my mouth, but I didn't want to argue about it now. Chess wasn't a quitter. “How does quitting get you back here?”

“My dad doesn't
want
me to be a high-school dropout, and I told him the only way I'll continue to go to school is at Wonderland High.”

But in order for him to have that chance, and not end up in jail if Kingston was planning something huge that drew Lorina's attention, we had to go face the music.

I tugged him toward the dance.

Inside the school, Whitney perked up when we entered, peeling herself off the white, concrete wall. “I was starting to think you guys ran off to elope.”

“That would be one way to get my dad off my back.” Chess grinned, but I made a face. I was all for marriage, but not until the very, very distant future, like when I could be legally tried as an adult for my crimes plus a few more years.

“What's going on?” I asked.

“Nothing. Kingston took Quinn onto the dance floor,” Whitney said. “Which is why I'm out here trying to figure out what the hell he's up to.”

I sucked on my lower lip. “Maybe Kingston was bluffing?”

“I don't know. There has to be a reason he's staying with Quinn beyond the prank,” Whitney said.

We headed inside the gym where the tropical theme exploded with paper cutouts of palm trees, clouds lining the walls, and flamingos stationed in front of tables. The DJ was infusing Caribbean backbeats into the pop music that blasted from the speakers. Students congregated in groups around the punch bowl, while a few brave ones danced on the floor. Teachers gossiped on the perimeter, looking out of place and uncomfortable.

“See? Disappointing.” Whitney wore a grimace.

“Disconcerting is more like it.” Chess swept his eyes over the room. “Kingston wouldn't threaten without reason.”

I tugged at the fabric of my dress, nervous.

Chess brought his lips close to my ear, his hot breath embossing goosebumps on my neck. “You look beautiful.”

My cheeks could have cooked eggs. I loved how he had the ability to absorb my nerves.

A group of girls migrated from the corner, revealing the scene behind them: Quinn and Kingston in an intense shouting match. The girls glanced back in disgust and burst into giggles as they rushed over to another set of friends whose heads all turned in to watch. Oblivious to anything except Kingston, Quinn flailed her arms, face contorted in an epic battle against tears. He was too busy fiddling with his cell phone to pay attention to her. When she tried to reach for him, he stepped away and raised his arms in the universal symbol for “don't touch me.”

“Looks like Quinn got her exit papers handed to her,” Whitney said.

I snapped my fingers. “Darn, I really thought they would last.”

“Why go through the elaborate gesture of showing up at the dance with her only to break up with her immediately?” Chess asked.

Whitney pursed her lips. “To make sure she shows up as well, and isn't, you know, bawling her eyes out at home.”

We all pondered that for a moment as Kingston moved over to the snack table and downed a few handfuls of popcorn while Quinn continued to try and break through his barrier. My skin prickled all over. Now there was nothing stopping Quinn from revealing my involvement in vandalizing her house.

I turned to my friends, speaking in a rush, as if we were running out of time. “We know he most likely stole a key from Quinn. Why would he want that?”

“Maybe it's unrelated,” Chess said. “Like he wanted to steal test answers or something.”

Whitney was already shaking her head. “No, this is related to everything. He wouldn't make sure we were all here if he didn't want us to witness something.”

Her words spun in my head and as they did, my ears started ringing.
He wouldn't make sure we were
all
here . . .
But he hadn't made sure of that. He had only made sure
I
would be here. I was the one who got Whitney and Chess involved.

My body felt hot as an impossible thought occurred to me. Nonsensical, even. Kingston abruptly turned and darted out of the dance. Di and Dru and some other girls swooped in to surround Quinn.

“I'll be right back.” I turned on my heels and tried to saunter out the door but found it impossible and broke into a run.

Footsteps chased after me. I paused with my hand on the exit door. “I want to talk to Kingston alone.”

“Alice, that might be what he wants. He might be setting you up.” Chess pushed open the door and grabbed my hand, willing me to let him tag along.

Chess was right; that was what he wanted.

“Kingston! Wait up!” I called after him before he disappeared down a darkened hallway.

He slowed his steps, then stepped back into the light.

“Don't.” Chess pulled me back to him.

“Meltdown, melting, molting, mold.” Kingston stared at us. “Can't contain it. It will just spill and drench and soak.”

“Are we writing poetry now?” Whitney asked, joining the party.

“No. Instructions.”

Sounded like witchcraft to me. “Instructions for what? Your plan?”

“Maybe you're just paranoid,” Kingston said, smirking. When you had all the answers, you also had the ability to watch people squirm while they tried to figure them out. “Thinking I've got something planned when clearly there's nothing going on.”

“Kingston,” I said, my voice a little shaky. I cleared my throat. “I'd like to talk to you for a moment.”

His eyes flicked to Chess. I dropped my hand from his, crossing it over my chest.

“So talk. They can't hear you anyway.” Kingston gestured at the air in front of him. I didn't want to point out that unless Chess and Whitney had shoved earplugs in their ears when I wasn't looking, they could very well hear me. Though I guessed he wasn't talking about
them
.

A group of students breezed into the hallway at that moment. They took one look at Kingston and their smiles disappeared.

“Not here.” I flicked my eyes toward the students.

“Fine, come with me.” Kingston paused and studied us. “But just you.” He was looking at me, but he pointed toward the wall.

Chess gritted his teeth. “Alice, I don't feel comfortable—”

“What do you think I'm going to do, Chess?” Kingston sounded offended. “Kidnap her? Would have been easier without advance warning.”

“I think I might be able to get answers,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice low enough to prevent Kingston from hearing.

“Fine,” Chess said, squeezing my waist. “But if you're not back in five minutes, I'm sending out a search party.”

Kingston and I stood there awkwardly for a moment. I didn't want to lead the way because I wanted to watch where he would take me, in case it gave any clues to what he was trying to hide. If he avoided certain parts of the school, I'd check them later.

He rolled his eyes and stalked off. I hustled to keep up. As soon as we rounded the corner, darkness settled over us. My eyes took a while to adjust, and I didn't realize he had stopped until he caught my arm. “Is this private enough for you?” he said, voice low and cautious. He stood so close to me, I could feel the heat emanating from his skin.

“Let's go somewhere with more light.” I wasn't scared of him, not anymore, but that didn't mean I wanted to be in a dark hallway with him. “I have an idea,” I said. I turned around and went in the direction of the senior lounge. A sliver of light from the next hallway guided my way.

“Hey, wait, you can't go in there!” He grabbed my arm, stubby nails digging into my flesh.

An image of his violent turn of anger while clutching the pig flashed in my mind. I jiggled my arm, trying to break free.

He dropped my wrist and backed away, hands raised in the air in police-style surrender. “I didn't mean to—” The foot of space separating us felt too claustrophobic.

“Why can't we go in there?” I asked, desperate to break the awkward silence. He stood close enough for me to make out his shadowy features through the darkness. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

We stared at each other for a moment like two animals about to pounce.

“Because . . . we're not seniors.”

Right, because rules had always stopped him before. I pushed open the door, flipped on the light, and immediately understood why he didn't want me in here. Why he had stolen Quinn's key.

Taped to the walls were blown-up pictures of Quinn's minions, painting various roses around town. Evidence on display and laid out like a museum exhibit, each photograph perfectly mounted on black posterboard.

“Ever heard of installation art? My stepmom's a big fan. I'm testing out my new skills.”

I stomped across the floor to a photo depicting Quinn in a black hoodie, standing at the entrance to Town Hall, wielding a can of spray paint. I tried to rip it off the wall. Only a sliver of paper came away with my hand. Damn it. Whitney's glue again.

“Not so easy, huh?” He shut the door behind him and switched off the light. What you can't see is what you can't get. Darkness turned everything into the same monochromatic hue, colors muted and subdued.

I pressed my hands to my face, shivering despite the school's heat. “Kingston, I'm tired of trying to decipher everything. Please. Tell me what's going on. I want to help you, I do, but not like this. This illegal stuff? It's only hurting people.”

“Hey, I'm just letting Quinn and her friends take credit for their brilliant work. Well, and mine.”

“Let me see,” I whispered.

He flipped on the light again and pointed to the picture of Quinn in the hoodie. “A pretty good reenactment of our break-in, huh? It sucks, doesn't it, when someone does something and no one ever knows about— Stop it!” He smashed his fists into his temples. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.”

“I didn't say anything.”

He whipped his head up. “You can't hear it?” He pondered this for a moment. “Get your ears checked.”

I ignored that little outburst. “You know they don't want credit. Neither do you, for all the stuff you did. That's why you're trying to cover it up.” I pointed to the same photo.

“Oh, but you're wrong. Credit is exactly what I want. But not for myself.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I dragged my fingernail over the paper, attempting to slice it. My Jersey shore–deprived stubs of nails wouldn't get the job done.

“You might as well stop that. It's useless.” Kingston walked over and tugged on my elbow—this time gently—trying to pull me away from the window. “I already emailed copies of these to your sister.”

The walls inside the room started to close in, spinning until all the photographs—the doctored evidence—blurred in my vision.

“They're going to take the fall for everything, Alice. We'll all get off scot-free.” He smiled. An actual proud-and-arrogant smile. Sincere, even. He was a gesture away from patting himself on the back.

I took a step away from him, freeing my elbow, and pressed my palm to the wall to steady myself. “
That's
why you started dating Quinn? To set her and her friends up?” I wanted to throw up. It seemed my insides might actually oblige any second.

“Your sister was onto us. If she pressed charges, we'd all end up in jail or juvie or whatever and none of us would get what we wanted. I did this for
you,
Alice. I saved you. I saved all of us. That counts for something, right?”

He really was crazy. “It's not even going to work!”

The smile disappeared from his face. His eyes went big and puppy-dog, and he watched me from beneath his long eyelashes. Like he truly wanted to be redeemed. Like he really believed he'd done me a big favor and I should run into his arms and hug him. And for a split second, I almost caved. He
had
done me a few favors lately. Picking up the pig to keep our crime a secret. Giving me that paper from the file. But of course, he wouldn't have had to give it to me if he hadn't taken it from me. Everything else fucked-up he did flooded back into me, and here I was, focusing on his warped sense of redemption.