The Blood Between Us (11 page)

“Believe me, Grace, I’m more bothered by that than I can even put into words.” Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion. “I thought my friends had better taste than that.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a virgin.”

True or not, I never got why that was an insult. It was just another state of being.

My jaw flexed in irritation. “Look, just stay away from all of my friends, okay?”

As I turned to leave, she called after me, “Shouldn’t be difficult. You have so few.”

I yelled back, “Now who’s being a prick?”

Josh rejoined me at the keg, where it seemed that our good friend Quinn had made it his duty to empty the damn
thing. “What’d your sister have to say?”

I shook my head. “Nothing good about you, my friend. Nothing good at all.”

His eyes followed her as she disappeared into the darkness of the woods, and I immediately recoiled. All he said was, “Huh.” But I could tell by the look on his face that I’d planted a seed of curiosity where I’d hoped to poison the soil. Damn.

Maybe Grace was right. Maybe I was a prick.

Quinn grabbed me by the shirt and said, “I think I might be drunk.”

Then he threw up.

On my shoes.

Electrons are most stable if they remain unpaired in the ground state

“Tie, Mr. Dane.”

I rolled my eyes as I straightened my tie, tightening it around my neck, as required by the uniform handbook. But the moment Mr. Garrow—a teacher who’d never cared much for either of my parents—was out of sight, I loosened it again, pulling it slightly to the side. I’d never understood boarding schools’ anal need for dress conformity. What we wore didn’t matter, and such limiting rules were enough to suck the creative juice out of every student here. Several years ago, I’d questioned the headmaster about the strict dress code at Wills. In response, he’d cited that Albert Einstein
wore the same outfit every day so that he didn’t have to waste any of his thinking on what to wear. The headmaster had had a point, but that still didn’t mean I was going to conform to their rules. Even after that conversation, I continued to wear Chucks instead of polished black oxfords. No one cared about my footwear. So why did Mr. Garrow seem to give such an enormous crap about my tie?

I walked up to the door of Julian’s class and took a deep breath. By some miracle, it turned out this was the only class I’d have with Grace, and even better, it was only twice a week. Eight classes. Then it was back to California and the life I’d built far away from my sister.

I opened the door, feigning confidence, and swept the room quickly with my eyes before I took a seat by the window, knowing that from a psychological standpoint I was saying that I was perfectly comfortable in this room, in this situation. I relaxed in my chair, trying to come across as blasé, but the truth was, I’d seen the roster for this class. Josh and Quinn—my only friends here, if you didn’t count Caroline—weren’t in this class. Just Grace, and everyone who hung out with Grace. To say I was feeling a little unnerved was an understatement. I was counting on Julian to keep the tension as low as possible. As he walked in, he smiled at me, easing my nerves some. The room filled, with Grace entering last. We sat on opposite sides of the room. I
wasn’t the least bit surprised.

Julian stood at the front of the class, tall and confident, clearly eager to set a good impression during his first week of classes as a teacher at Wills. His tie was perfectly straight, his oxfords polished to a shine—despite the fact that the teachers’ dress code wasn’t as strict as the students’. “Welcome to communication. This class has been arranged to educate you on something that many people struggle with and to ease your way into the world, wherever life may take you after graduation. It was also designed to help you before then. From what I hear, a lot of you at Wills seem content to study at all hours and spend most of your time in your rooms. The administration hopes to change this—to empower you to make a community here. The tools that you will learn in this class are invaluable. Together we will explore how to break down barriers and connect with others, despite the challenges we might face. It will be eye-opening, I’m sure. My name is Mr. Smith, but to start things off right and equalize us all, I’d like you all to call me Julian.”

Julian looked nervous. I doubted that anyone else could tell, but I knew him. He was fiddling with his wedding ring and darting his eyes from one student to the next. I wondered how long he’d practiced his spiel in the mirror. If my classmates noticed, they didn’t show it. They merely sat in silence.

Julian slapped his hands together to break the tension, flashing us all that Julian smile—the one you wanted to trust, even if you were hesitant to. “First off, I want you to move your chairs into a circle. We each have an equal voice in our discussions and I want to make sure that all of your voices are heard. After that, we’ll discuss our class objective in detail.”

As everyone stood and began shifting their chairs around, I remained where I was, locking eyes with Julian. I held my hands palms up in a question.
What the hell, Julian?
Seriously. Were we in elementary school and this was sharing time?

But Julian merely pointed to my chair and then to the empty spot left in the broken circle. Reluctantly, I picked up my chair and moved it into the place intended for me. Immediately, the girl to my left and the boy to my right slid their chairs several inches away, like I had some kind of disease or something. This was so childish. The next thing you knew, he’d be dividing us up into groups.

“Every day we’ll participate in group discussions and group activities, but seventy percent of your grade will be dependent on a single project—one which you will complete together. In groups of two.”

A pinprick headache formed quickly above my left eyebrow. I knew what was coming, and I knew that Viktor must
have had a hand in it. I didn’t have to look across the room to know that Grace was feeling the same way. Golly gee, I wondered who I’d be working with.

Julian began reading off names in pairs, moving down the list until he came to the one I’d been waiting to hear. “Grace Dane?”

I glanced over at my sister, who was looking at Julian stone-faced. For a second, I saw our mother in her profile. My heart softened in a moment of mourning at the hint of the woman who had soothed my nightmares and bandaged my wounds, but it didn’t last. I refused to let it. Grace was nothing like our mother. Still I watched her, wondering what cracks would form in her expression when Julian spoke my name. Surely, she had to know it was coming.

“You’ll be paired with Marissa Connelly.”

Relief filled Grace’s features. Confusion must have filled mine. I’d been pretty well convinced that I’d had it all figured out, that Julian was planning to use this class project as a way to bond my sister and me together somehow. The notion that I’d been wrong shook me slightly. But the shock didn’t last long. Good. I still wanted to know what she was up to, but I didn’t think being joined at the hip for the next month was the best way to achieve that.

A girl sitting three chairs to my right said, “Marissa’s out. Apparently there was a mix-up at the chemistry lab this
morning and she had to be taken to the hospital. They think it might be cyanide poisoning.”

Marissa. Marissa. The name sounded familiar. And then it hit me—the girl Grace had been arguing with at the party last night.

“Jesus.” The word left my mouth without thought. Everyone looked at me for a moment before returning their collective attention back to our instructor.

“That’s terrible. I hope the rest of you will be that much more careful around all those chemicals. I heard Mr. Meadows has you trying to blow up furniture, first thing in the school year? Even one mislabeled bottle can do so much damage.” Julian shook his head. I wondered how far my parents were from his thoughts. “Ah, well. Moving on. Let’s see . . . ah. Grace, it looks like you’ll be partnering with Adrien instead.”

Of course.

My tension returned, but as I glanced back at Grace, I noticed her tension had intensified as well, and I took a small amount of satisfaction in that. Looking on the bright side, I realized that spending more time with Grace might lead me to the answers about her involvement in what happened to our parents. The best place to begin was at her side.

Grace raised her hand, and when Julian nodded at her, she said, “Exactly what will this partner project entail?”

“I was just about to get to that.” Julian turned to the smart board and began typing out bulleted points on his laptop, which then appeared on the board. “Each member of the partnership will be responsible for creating an extensive case study on the other member. I want you to learn their background, what you think are the major influences in their life, and what you’d say is their preferred method of communication. Ultimately, I want you each to tell me in thirty pages why your partner communicates in the way that they do, and how best to reach them in a way that will encourage them to effectively and freely communicate.”

I snorted. “Sounds more like social psychology than communication.”

Julian locked eyes with me. “You don’t consider the two linked, Mr. Dane?”

“I don’t consider them at all, actually. As I’m sure you know, I prefer the actual sciences.”

“Thank you, Mr. Dane, for demonstrating why this class has been put on the list of electives here at the Wills Institute.” A girl seated across from me chuckled. A guy near her laughed and then coughed into his hand. To my right, someone snorted. Julian retrieved a stack of paper packets from his desk and began passing them around the circle of roughly twenty students. Each packet looked to be about five pages thick, presumably his class syllabus and further,
detailed instructions for our ridiculous partnered project. As he passed one to me, he said, “Seems like you have a lot to learn . . . particularly about communication.”

It was strange, my return to Wills. When I’d left, I wasn’t popular, but I was well liked by most everyone—staff and students alike. And now I was a joke, a pariah, and an arrogant dickweed who had abandoned his sister in her time of mourning.
Her
time. As if I were not allowed to have had my own. And now even Julian was joining their chorus of dissent.

Not that I was wallowing in self-pity or anything.

Inside my pants pocket, my phone buzzed. No one heard it, but if I were caught with it on, I’d get a demerit and assigned chores. I was mad enough at Julian that I almost didn’t care. But then Julian got a phone message of his own and stepped into the hall for a moment to check it, giving me the chance to pull out my phone and look at it. As I’d suspected, the unknown number from before had texted again.
Where does she go at night?

I held the phone out of sight and texted back.
Who is this?

What does she do there? What is she hiding?

Answer me, asshole. For the last time, who is this?

Watch her. Tonight.

“Adrien.” Julian stepped back into the room, looking
less than pleased with me. “You know the rules.”

“Come on, Julian. Give me a break.”

He looked at my phone, disappointment filling his eyes. “Hand it over and report to the headmaster. And just so you know, I want you and Grace to focus your background research largely on the past four years you’ve spent apart.”

I stood up and slapped my phone into his palm before walking out the door. I’d agreed to take Julian’s class to help him out, so he’d have a familiar face in the crowd, somebody to have his back in case things got sticky. But now he was just being a dick to me. And why? To prove a point? And exactly what was the point, anyway?

I ambled down the hall and knocked on Headmaster Snelgrove’s door. He opened it, looking surprised to see me. “Adrien Dane. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company so very early in the semester?”

“Jul—Mr. Smith sent me here for using my cell phone during class.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“Not a wise way to begin your senior year, now is it? You know the rules.” He took his seat behind his desk and gestured for me to sit down across from him. “One demerit. You’ll spend an hour assisting our custodial staff after class tomorrow. Now, why don’t we have a little chat?”

Reluctantly, I took a seat, sighing. “Awesome.”

The headmaster met my eyes, his expression warm. I’d known him for as long as I’d been attending Wills. He was a kind man, and fair, but firm. Of the staff here that weren’t family to me, he was probably my favorite, if I’d been asked to choose. It didn’t hurt that he and my dad had been very close. “How are you, Adrien? Adjusting okay? I’ve already heard a few things that have given me some concern.”

I didn’t know how much to tell him. It wasn’t the Wills Institute that was making me miserable. It was Grace. It was me. It was my parents, my past, and the sick glue that stuck it all together. I shrugged as casually as I could manage, but it was clear he saw through my calm facade. “Nothing I can’t handle. Mostly gossip and speculation and people taking sides where there are none to take.”

He sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers together on his stomach. “I was happy to learn of your return to the Wills Institute. I hope it was your decision, and not something that you regret doing.”

“Truthfully, I would have much rather stayed in California, and I plan on returning there in the next few weeks. Just have some things to sort out first. But I’m happy to be here. Everyone has been so warm and welcoming, it’s almost as if I never left.” Sarcasm practically dripped from every last syllable I spoke. Mostly because I was making no attempt to mask it. We both knew I didn’t want to be here. Why pretend?

Headmaster Snelgrove tilted his chin into his chest and eyed me over his glasses. “I understand that your godfather asked you to return. Sort of a personal favor.”

“He did. It’s fine. I just . . . I have some things to work out and then I’m sure the rest of my time here will be smooth.” It was a lie, and we both knew it. I wasn’t sure of anything, and I wasn’t happy to be back. It was nothing against the school. But the Wills Institute was my past, and I had left it a long time ago. I cleared my throat against my fist. “Can I go now?”

He looked at me as if gauging my potential reaction to what he was about to say. Then he offered up a thin-lipped frown. “We have a wonderful new counselor on staff. Perhaps you’d consider stopping in and saying hello?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Another lie. Apparently, I was full of them. Speaking of being full of things, I’d also already had my fill of counseling, thank you very much.

“I’ll let you get back to class now. And Mr. Dane . . .” He sat forward, raising his eyebrows at me. “Rules are in place for a reason. Please try to remember that.”

I stood without another word and exited his office. As I walked out the door, Mr. Garrow passed by and said, “Tie, Mr. Dane.”

I muttered, “Screw your tie.”

He whipped around to face me, his eyes wide at what he
thought he’d heard. “Excuse me?”

I blinked at him, then smiled politely, adjusting my tie. “I just said I needed a new tie. This one doesn’t like to hold its knot.”