Deceived (7 page)

“I think he was nervous and probably embarrassed to see us at his new school. I mean, he doesn’t have a super-awesome roommate like you to make this place fabulous.”

Who was his roommate? There weren’t many guys at Francine Frances. Was he in the senior dorm, too? Davis never paid any attention to him. My mind whirled.

By the time Pixie went to bed, I was wide awake again. The fog of sleep gone. Thoughts of Brian plagued me. I walked out to check that the deadbolt and chain on the door were secure before sliding back into my bed.

What was Brian doing in Elton? Elton was an hour’s drive from Francine Frances. Was he from Elton? I had so many questions. Did he register at my school before or after we met? Did he have any idea I was a student here? He looked too old for high school. I hoped Pixie was right before and he thought I looked older, too. I liked the idea that I could pass for college age. It’d make getting along next year easier if I didn’t look like a child.

I combed through our conversation from the flea market. We had talked about coffee addiction and how I didn’t sleep. I honestly couldn’t remember him saying anything too specific about himself, and he had asked very little about me. We talked and walked and laughed. He bartered with an Amish woman over the price of her pies. He lost, but he still bought one. What would he do with an entire pie?

He rode a motorcycle. Shiny, blue, and mildly intimidating, but not a clue to his deep, dark secrets. No one had been with him at the coffee shop. I still wasn’t sure if he had gotten there before or after I arrived. Though he said he saw me arrive, I hadn’t seen him. He didn’t talk to many people at school either. He could be shy like me, but that didn’t align with the confidence he’d shown in Elton. What else did I know about Brian? He had commented on some art from Germany at the flea market. Maybe his family traveled. He had mentioned the Peace Corps, but I couldn’t remember why. Very little of what he had said meant anything. I rubbed my arms as a chill slid over them. He was big enough to be dangerous. If he was following me … I swallowed hard. No. Brian wasn’t the bad guy. There was no bad guy. I hoped.

The apartment creaked and settled around me. Pixie was sound asleep, along with everyone else in the time zone.

I booted up my laptop. If I couldn’t sleep, I’d get a jump on our Sociology assignment. I was about to type
Gabriella Smith
in the search box, but instead I searched the local news site for references to a serial killer in the area. One small article reported that the FBI had contacted local police regarding a serial-killer case. The details were minimal at best, limited to names I didn’t know and the date and time of the contact. Whoever had started the rumor at school had either misread the article or intended to scare the rest of us with the news. I shook my hands at the wrists, utterly tense.

I opened a new window and typed
Brian Austin
into the search engine. Pages of hits came back. I clicked on the one from D.C. first. I loved D.C. All my memories there were happy ones. We lived there until my mother died. After that, Dad avoided big cities at all costs, as if people in small towns never had car accidents.

The Brian Austin in D.C. was in his nineties. I giggled. The article was an obituary. The smile fell off my face. A small write-up in the local paper covered his lifelong career in the military and dedication to his country and community. I read a few words about his sons and grandsons who “followed in his endeavor to protect and serve our country.” The article was mildly engaging but useless. It was a little interesting that someone with his name had lived in D.C. with me when I was a kid.

I looked for another Brian Austin until nearly dawn. Nothing came up matching a high school guy. Not even a Facebook profile. I expected to find a newspaper article with a photo of him on his teammates’ shoulders somewhere. He looked like an athlete, a star, someone who could do anything. Another shiver passed over me. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Chapter Six

I fell asleep at my desk and woke to the sound of my alarm clock for the first time in years. Sleep time: one hour and twenty-seven minutes. Didn’t matter. I was amped. My heart rate spiked at the idea of intrigue. Brian could be another guy like Davis, new to the school and nothing more. He could, but, for a reason I couldn’t deny, my intuition screamed otherwise. If I hadn’t met him before our first day, maybe, but not now. No more ignoring my instincts.

I hadn’t been exposed to anything interesting, ever. Dad’s method of grieving for the past decade and all the moving could’ve been interesting if we had ever gone anywhere good. Instead, my lackluster life compared to the thrill of a lecture on how good kids had it today. I’d heard that one a few times. Excitement rushed through me before I had time to reach for my pills. I needed to know. Who was Brian Austin?

I popped a caffeine capsule in my mouth and swigged from the water bottle on my nightstand. Then I hit the treadmill without coffee. The belt purred underfoot. I mulled over what I knew, which admittedly wasn’t much, and set out a plan to see what I could find out. Light as a feather, I ran to expend energy, for the first time, instead of find it. The pill was part habit, part trouble-shooting the inevitable headache that came without one.

As a future attorney, I would benefit from the investigation experience, regardless of how rudimentary. So, in this case, being nosy and paranoid came second to career preparation.

I rushed through my morning routine and hated that I’d fallen asleep. I’d managed not to dream in the short snippet of time. For that I was thankful. There were too many better things to think about. I swept my hair off my shoulders and buttoned my cardigan. I shoved a journal in my backpack to write everything down. Then I left without Pixie. I wanted to get coffee and make it to the wall on campus before the crowd arrived. I hurried so I wouldn’t forget anything from the night before. If Pixie saw me, she’d know something was up. I was dying to tell her my suspicions, but I didn’t want to sound as unstable as I felt about my new game.

Outside, it was funny how different everything looked in the morning. Sunlight glistened off the dew, still fresh in shaded places. The blacktop sparkled. The birds sang. Squirrels were hard at work preparing for fall. Girls filled the entire shop from wall to windows. The line for coffee stretched out the door. The silent coffee shop from last night had been replaced, filled now with shoulder-to-shoulder patrons, laughing, voices blending together. Dozens of my classmates clung to one another, talking, gossiping, and smiling. I grabbed my order and ducked out.

The walk to school gave me time to think. Ideas and theories swirled in my mind. By the time I reached my wall, I already had a pen in hand. I looked over my shoulder frequently for good measure. Mowers in the distance provided the perfect amount of white noise. I tossed my bag onto the grass and got comfy.

“Good morning.” One of the groundskeepers approached with a tip of his hat. I couldn’t be sure, but he looked like the one who had witnessed the awesome rumble I’d had with my locker. I jumped at the sight of him, feeling inept after my attempts at vigilance. I hadn’t seen anyone around or heard him approach, thanks to the mowers.

“Hi.”

“Beautiful day.”

“Yep.”

He paused, shoving up his cap to wipe his forehead. “You picked a nice spot. Private.”

Maybe too private. I considered moving. Did serial killers ever pose as janitors?

“Enjoy the stolen moments.” His voice changed on the final words. His expression fell.

He walked away before I turned back to my notebook. I hated that I hadn’t seen or heard him until he was right in front of me. He looked back over his shoulder twice before disappearing around the side of the school. I kept one eye on him, behind a veil of my hair, until he was gone.

I scribbled in my journal until my hand hurt, forgetting where I was, putting thoughts of the awkward exchange out of my mind. A long shadow grew over me. My muscles tensed. I hadn’t heard anyone approach for the second time, and it was early. Dad would be furious. There wouldn’t be students on campus for another thirty or forty minutes. I prayed I wouldn’t find the same guy standing there. My tummy tightened. I turned my face upward to the shadow.

“You’re here early.” Brian’s voice sounded concerned. His eyes narrowed, judging. “You shouldn’t be here alone.”

I tried to shake off the warning. How would he know what was or was not safe? Better yet, why wouldn’t I be safe? Had he heard the rumor, too? The square of his shoulders and his roaming eyes made me think of my dad. His words were formal, making him sound different than he had in Elton and different from any guy my age I’d ever met. How could he be a senior in high school? I blinked my eyes to concentrate. How could he not be? The tiny school must have tons of hoops and screens to filter its applicants. Then again, how had I gotten in? I had decided to come only three months before I arrived.

“Right. All these prep-school girls can be dangerous.” I smiled. I’d perfected the say-one-thing, think-another style years ago when Dad made it clear we wouldn’t discuss Mom, the ribbons, his work, or anything else other than me.

Brian’s fierce expression dissolved. The corners of his mouth turned up, and he squatted beside me.

I took a long, full breath as I absorbed his entirety, enjoying the return of his familiar smile.

He was unbelievable. His thighs tested his pants as they accommodated his new position. The buttons on his shirt struggled, too. His hands hung loosely between his knees, and I saw what I hadn’t before. Under his jacket, peeking out from beneath the white shirt, were the unmistakable silver beads of military tags. I’d missed them that first day.

“When did you enlist?” I motioned to his chest.

His hand moved instinctively to touch the chain. “Elle.”

I smiled. Everyone had picked up my nickname from Pixie.

“Forgive me. You prefer Gabriella?”

He started to stand, and, without thinking, I reached out for him.

We both looked at my hand on his. I pulled back. Shutting my eyes against the humiliation, I shook my head.

“No, Elle is fine. Please, not Gabriella. My dad is the only one who calls me that.”

Forgive me
. He was too young to be so formal. Could others see that?

I looked at him again, feeling nauseous but feigning bravery. “You wanted to tell me something yesterday, and I interrupted.”

He searched my face for a moment. I had no idea what he expected to find, but I hoped he wanted to tell me all his secrets. To hear all his stories at once was possibly more exciting than digging them up one at a time. Frankly, I needed the excitement.

His eyes moved from my face to the distance. He looked around. “I didn’t tell you I was enrolled here when we met because I didn’t know I would be. I didn’t intend to deceive you in any way. I know how it must seem.”

He waited for me to respond, but I was busy processing the words. Did he know he had slipped? He had admitted knowing I went to school here, and I’d never said that.

When I dared look into his face again, his eyes were back on the horizon. I followed his gaze. Nothing.

When I turned back, his eyes were on me. “What?”

“Are you angry?”

“No. I understand.”

“Do you?” Tension licked his words.

I nodded.

“You should study in the library, not out here in the open, and not alone.” As he spoke, his eyes focused hard on mine. Again, I sensed there was something more he wanted to say. I had a rough idea of how it went, but I didn’t know the specifics.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” His eyebrows rose. Did he anticipate an argument? His beautiful face fell a bit. A crease appeared between his brows.

Uh-oh. I should’ve put up more of a fight for show. Between the creepy janitor guy and the stupid serial-killer speculation, I didn’t feel much like arguing.

“Well, if you think I should study inside, then I’ll study inside.” Maybe he could join me, tell me about where he grew up and how he got here. We could get to know each other.

His eyes jumped back and forth between mine, examining one then the other. “What were you doing here?” He nodded toward my leather-bound journal, clearly not a schoolbook, obviously meant to be kept private.

“Journaling.” I shrugged.

“Mmm. About a flirtatious guy who bought you coffee?” The muscles in his jaw relaxed. His shoulders dropped back.

“And now he’s my classmate, in almost all of my classes. That’d make a good story.”

“Who’d believe it?”

My tummy yanked back against my spine. “Not me.” Silently, I willed him to scoop me up and carry me away. Pixie had called us soulmates. I forced the words out of my mind.

His eyes narrowed.

I would’ve looked away except I enjoyed him looking at me. In class, he never let his eyes land on mine for more than a second. Here, alone, beside my wall, the look felt intimate. I liked it. I returned his stare, matching his intensity.

“You’re astute. I like it. That’s both an admirable and necessary quality.” He smiled wider. “You’ll live longer, too.”

I sucked in air. My heart hammered, and heat ran up my neck. Skipping breakfast had left me woozy. The tension mounted until I leaned against the wall for support. His words seemed to hold double meanings. Being alone with him tied my lungs in knots. My instincts said he was dangerous. They also said I was smitten. How was that for complicated?

“You know, if you need anything, if anyone bothers you, or if you feel … uncomfortable, about anything, you can come to me. I can help you.” He frowned as he finished his strange statement. “New places can be a challenge.”

Ah, this was his attempt to sound like a friend. Complete fail. “I’ve been in a dozen new places.” Francine Frances wasn’t my first rodeo. No need to worry about me. “I’ve moved nearly every year my whole life.” I tried to open a line of trust between us. “Sometimes we stayed longer, but Dad would eventually be reassigned and we’d move. Anyway, aren’t you new, too?” Maybe he was from here. He had never said.