Confessions: The Private School Murders (26 page)

“Personally, I think he’d rather be me,” James said with a grin. He leaned in and kissed me, pressing me back against the leather seat, until I was so flushed I could hardly think straight.

And then my stomach growled. James broke off the kiss and we both laughed. “I think your stomach is trying to tell me something.”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a gourmet picnic—provolone and prosciutto sandwiches from Zabar’s, with a side of olives and little squares of mozzarella, plus two cold bottles of springwater. We tore into the food as if it was our last meal. At one point I dropped half a slice of prosciutto into my lap and James scooped it right into his mouth and we both laughed. I thought of all those girls at school who ate nothing but greens when their “better halves” were around, not wanting to look like pigs in front of them, and it was one of those moments when I was glad to be with someone who let me be myself.

“Do you think our parents are freaking out yet?” James asked as the train slid out of the station.

I cuddled back into the crook of his arm and sighed. “I know mine are.”

But I didn’t care. We were going to spend the night together. Maybe more than that. Maybe, just maybe, I’d never go back.

“Do you love me?” James asked suddenly.

“Yes. I do.” I didn’t even have to think about it. It was so freeing.

“I love you, too,” he replied. “I’ve never said that to anyone before.”

It was so hard to believe. “Really?”

He grinned and gazed out the window. “Well, except my first motorcycle, Ramona. But she was a Ducati, so you can’t blame me. In fact, I think I might have loved her more than I love you.”

I punched James in the spot between his chest and shoulder. Not as hard as I could have, of course. Just a love tap. He winced and laughed.

“Kidding! You know I’m kidding.”

“Yes. I know you’re kidding,” I replied. “I just thought you should know I can punch.”

“Duly noted,” James replied. He rolled his shoulder back, winced again, then pulled me back into his arms. I rested my head against his chest and felt myself start to drift off slowly, lulled by the even tempo of his breathing and the rhythmic rattle of the train.

I dreamed a dream that was soft and happy, peaceful and safe. A dream that was entirely un-
me
. Way too soon, I was gently shaken awake.

“Tandy, wake up,” James said, his voice soft in my ear. “We’re here.”

56

The sky was dark
with low-hanging clouds as we climbed down off the train and onto the platform of the elegant white station. A sea-scented wind quickly reminded me that I was still wearing the tissue-thin clothes I’d worn to school that day, and I shivered. James put his arm around me and we walked out to the taxi queue.

I leaned into him and we smiled and I knew he was feeling exactly what I was feeling: free.

A cabdriver—short and spry, wearing a ball cap low over his eyes—picked us out of the throng. He bounded over to the passenger-side door and opened it for us.

“Got bags?” he asked.

“We’re traveling light,” James said.

He gave the driver an address and we slid into the backseat. I nestled into James’s arms and watched the lights flash by outside the windows until the cab turned into a long pebble driveway. The black car behind us zoomed past, its engine revving, and I turned to see it careening off into the night.

The cab pulled up in front of a magnificent estate, all white stucco and arched doorways and tiled peaks. The windows seemed three stories high, and the wide porch stretched across its many wings.

James paid the cabbie and held my hand as we got out. “Nice, huh?”

I stared up at the second-floor terraces, the wrought-iron railings, the bursting flower boxes.

“Oooh…” I searched for the right word. “It’s
very
nice.”

“
Just
nice?” James asked, pretending to be shocked at my lack of praise.

“Yes. The house is nice,” I said, smiling. “But honestly, I wouldn’t care if it was a shack with an outhouse. Being here with you is what’s incredible.”

He grinned. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Instead of heading inside, James led me across the landscaped grounds and around the side of the mansion, between walls of evergreen shrubs. When we got to the
back lawn, I saw an Olympic-sized pool and heard the muted roar of the ocean close by. And there, right in front of us and centered behind the pool, was a small shingled house with a little porch and quite a few doors and French windows.

James lifted a flowerpot from the front step and showed me the key. He fitted it into the lock and threw open the door.

“After you,” he said with a cocky little bow.

“Wellll, I do declare,” I joked, putting on a southern accent.

I stepped into the sweet, sparsely decorated pool house. The living room had timbered ceilings, pale blue walls, and painted furniture clustered around a blue enamel woodstove. Two easy chairs faced it, and there were two more chairs at a small dining table near the alcove kitchen.

It was a cottage made for two.

“My friend’s parents will be away until Christmas,” James said, sliding his arms around my waist from behind. “We can stay as long as we like.”

“How about forever?” I said.

“Works for me,” James said.

We both knew we were living in a dream world, but for the moment, I chose to set that aside. I was having way too much fun to care.

I crossed the living room and stepped into the small bedroom. The queen-sized bed practically filled the space and was covered with a downy white spread and a dozen pillows. In the petite armoire hung basic clothes of various sizes, stocked for unexpected visitors.

James walked up behind me, took my hand, and tugged me toward the bed. We fell on top of the soft comforter together, and he pulled me against him without a word, kissing me like he’d been waiting all day, all week, his whole life just for this. Our legs entwined, and I ran my hands up his torso, clutching the fabric of his T-shirt against his back.

James’s hands were everywhere, and my breath caught each time he found a new spot to explore. My hips, my chest, my legs, my neck, the small of my arched back.

I’d never been touched like this. Not even close.

And I wanted more. More of James, more of his body, more of his kiss.

More, more, more.

Then, suddenly, James held me away from him. I searched his beautiful blue eyes.

“James? What’s wrong?”

“Maybe we should slow down,” he said.

“What? Why?”

“Because, I just… I think we need to make sure nothing
goes wrong,” he told me, fiddling with the hem of my shirt, which was halfway up my chest by now. “We need to consider our next move. If we keep going right now… all thinking will go out the window.”

He leaned in and kissed me again, deeply, searchingly, and I couldn’t believe that, on any level, he actually wanted to stop. But when he broke away again, I sighed.

“Okay. You’re right. We have all night for… this,” I said. “Why don’t we take a walk?”

James’s eyes traveled over my body covetously. “Good idea.”

Still, it took a gargantuan effort for us to get off that bed, a huge amount of self-control.

I grabbed a cozy cardigan from the armoire and pulled it on over my clothes.

James took a blanket from the bed. “Maybe we’ll sleep on the beach.”

I smiled. “I like that idea.”

The beach. The beach would be the perfect setting for my first time. We’d go for a walk, talk things out, and then we could finish what we’d started. I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait to show James exactly how much I loved him. I couldn’t wait to feel what it was like to be completely loved.

As we slipped out of the pool house into the night, I didn’t think the wait would be long.

57

No exaggeration,
the moment our feet hit the sand was the happiest I’d ever been in my life. It was like stepping out of the densest fog imaginable and finding myself in the rainbow world of Munchkinland. No parents and no pills could suppress what I was feeling. I was overjoyed. I was
alive
.

James and I were walking, hands clasped, hip to hip, at the lacy fringe of the ocean. The night was utterly black—no moon, no stars. Suddenly I realized I didn’t want to think about our next move. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to be with James. I wanted to live in that moment with the sand between my toes and the breeze whipping my hair around my face.

I paused and James looked down at me. His breath was short, and I touched his chest. We were idiots to think that just getting out of the house would take our minds off each other.

He dropped the blanket in the sand and pulled me to him. I threw my arms around his neck and we kissed. Passionately, desperately, fiercely…

I was just tugging up his shirt when engines roared out of the black void and headlights pinned us to the beach.

“What the
hell
?” James said, breaking away.

Loud voices cracked like gunfire.

“Don’t move!”

“Hit the ground! Hands where we can see them!”

I dropped to my knees and shielded my eyes, blinking against the blinding lights. Rough hands grabbed me from behind and wrenched my arms behind my back. Sand blew up, pelting my eyes and lips.

I screamed over and over, and I heard James calling my name, but I couldn’t see him. I couldn’t see anything but blinding white light.

Then a bag came down over my head.

I didn’t know what was happening, only that I had to fight. I strained against the plastic strap binding my wrists,
but it held tight. When I tried to stand, I fell forward into the sand and was then yanked to my feet.

“James!” I shouted as loudly as I could.

“Tandy!”

I lunged forward, and a needle jammed into my thigh. It took two seconds for everything to go black.

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