Night Owls (30 page)

“Hebephrenia,” the mayor confirmed in a flat voice. “It’s another name for disorganized schizophrenia, because symptoms begin during puberty, when schizophrenics are
young.”

A few people in the crowd murmured, impressed with the mayor’s seemingly random knowledge about the subject matter.

“Who painted this?” he asked.

“The student’s name is Beatrix Adams.”

I felt Jack’s big hands tighten around my arms, holding me in place, as if he could read my mind and knew instinct was screaming at me to bolt. But I didn’t. I stood still as a
solider and watched the mayor turn around. His gaze flew straight to Jack and then dropped until it connected with mine. If he was utterly unreadable the first two times I’d seen him, now his
face was a twenty-gallon tank of raw anguish.

I inhaled sharply and suffered his stare, which didn’t last long. He swung back around to the painting, as if he couldn’t bear to look at me any longer. Behind his back, Jack’s
mom leaned toward me. Her eye makeup was smudged, and she was blinking a lot. Had she been crying? I couldn’t tell whether she was sad or angry, but she put a hand on my shoulder and
squeezed.

That was good, right?

Before I knew for sure, before the mayor could burst into a tirade or strike me down with the emotions that made him ball his hands into fists, the suit curating my painting said, “This
entry created the most discussion among the judges, and its unusual subject matter and creative use of dissection earned it the number two spot in tonight’s competition.”

Applause erupted around us as the woman pulled a red ribbon from the box beneath her clipboard and stuck it to the bottom of the painting’s printed identification label before cheerily
directing the mayor and his wife toward the next contest entry of interest.

Second place.

No scholarship money. No boost for my college applications.

I had lost.

IF I HAD MY WAY, I WOULD’VE WALKED OUT, BUT MOM
forced me to stay through the ceremony and Mrs. Vincent’s speech about the importance of
art in school. I stiffened my spine and graciously accepted my prize envelope, which contained museum passes good for a year, and a bunch of vouchers for art supplies.

“Oh, gee,” I said out in the hallway with my support team of Mom, Heath, Noah, and Jack. Dad and Suzi lingered off to the side, talking to someone Dad knew; no one had invited him
over. “There’s a fifty-dollar gift card for a chain restaurant. ‘Celebrate your big win on us.’ That’s just peachy.”

Mom took the envelope from me. “I’ll keep this for you, or you’ll likely burn it in some kind of angry ritual.”

“Wrong child,” I said.

Heath shook his head. “My burning days are over. Mostly.”

“I know it doesn’t help,” Jack said. “But even if you’d done what you originally planned, there was no way you were beating Fractal Mitochondria Boy. That was some
kind of genius. Plus, you’re just a lady painter, so you’re probably not serious about college anyway. Leave science to the men, whydontcha?”

I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Have I told you how much I like you?”

“Nurse Katherine is two seconds away from murdering me with her eyes, so maybe you shouldn’t. What? Too soon?”

“Smart-ass,” Mom said to him, half-serious, half-teasing. I guess one good thing about losing spectacularly was getting Mom to cool her rage against Jack. “Just because
you’re charming doesn’t change anything. I’m still mad at you for putting my daughter in a situation that could’ve gotten her arrested.”

“Don’t be dramatic, Mom,” Heath said.

Jack sighed. “It’s fair. Guilty as charged, but just for the record, I would’ve taken the fall.”

Mom rolled her eyes, but it was obvious she wasn’t really angry. “Your romantic heroism doesn’t impress me.”

A crisp voice floated over her shoulder. “That makes two of us.”

Crap. I immediately jerked my head away from Jack as the mayor and his wife joined our group. “David Vincent,” he said, introducing himself to Mom. “And this is my wife,
Marlena. She tells me you’re a nurse at Parnassus.”

“No need to worry, David,” Mom said, like he was just some guy or a neighbor down the street and not the local celebrity she’d fantasized about having a secret love child with.
“My coworkers are gossips, so I keep family business at home.”

He nodded at her before turning his mayoral gaze on me.

Great. This was it. The universe had apparently decided it wasn’t enough for me to waste my summer pursuing something that amounted to nothing more than a pat on the back and endless
re-fills of soda at a chain restaurant. No, I was going to have to either eat crow and beg for King Vincent’s forgiveness or defend my painting and risk making things worse for Jack and
me.

Sweat coated my palms. I licked dry lips and looked him right in the eye—which was hard, because he was about the same height as Jack, and about a gazillion times more intimidating.

“Dad—” Jack started, but his father steamrolled over him.

“Miss Adams,” he said to me, “I’d like to buy your painting.”

Huh? Maybe I’d heard that wrong.

“You . . .”

“The first-place scholarship was ten thousand dollars. I’d like to offer you the same to purchase the painting.”

I didn’t know what to say. I think I might’ve gasped—or maybe that was Mom. I glanced up at Jack to see if he’d put his father up to this, but he was just as
flabbergasted.

“Um . . .” I cleared my throat. “Can I ask why?” Was he so ashamed of Jillian that he’d do anything to make sure no one ever laid eyes on the painting again?

He inhaled deeply and took his time answering, head down, brows knit, hands in pockets, as if it were a struggle to come up with the right words. Almost laughable, really. The man who’d
given a hundred and one speeches in front of TV cameras and stadiums filled with people was now tongue-tied?

When he finally lifted his head, his face was calmer. Something unguarded and honest softened his eyes. “Because,” he said softly as he looked at Jack, “it made me realize I
don’t see my daughter as much as I should.”

Oh . . .

I scratched the side of my neck. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes, and I’ll write you a check for it right now.”

He was totally serious. I looked at him, and then at his wife, who was definitely brushing back tears (and trying to smile at the same time). Next to her, Mom crossed her arms and gave me a
cautionary look. I imagined that the penny-scraping side of her, who wanted me to walk away with something to help my future, was at war with the proud side of her, who’d refused child
support from Dad. Standing behind her, my brother had fewer moral hiccups; Heath was mouthing
Say yes
and waving me in as if I were a plane descending toward a runway and there was a pot
of gold at the end.

Then I glanced at Jack, and he was just looking at me the way he always did. like I was the only person in the room who mattered. Like he trusted me to make the right choice on my own and would
stand behind any decision I made.

So I made one.

“I’ll give you the painting for free if you promise not to send Jack away to Massachusetts,
and
if all of you agree to let Jack and me see each other.”

Total silence.
Tick-tock, tick-tock . . .

Between us, the back of Jack’s hand rubbed against mine. I slipped my fingers into his and felt a little stronger in my proverbial backbone when he squeezed my hand.

“I’m fine with it,” Mom said. “As long as you’re honest about where you’re going and”—she skewered Jack with a warning look—“no one
gets arrested. But you have to keep your grades up, Bex, and there’ll be a curfew on school nights. No sneaking around after midnight.”

I could’ve kissed her. All hail Katherine the Great.

But she was only half the battle.

I held my breath and looked to the Vincents.

Any earlier vulnerability Jack’s dad had shown was now gone, and he was back to being cool and unflappable. He flexed his jaw and started to speak, but his wife silenced him with a small
noise in the back of her throat. She then smiled at Mom and said, “Life is better when my son isn’t moping around the house. So I believe I speak for both my husband and myself when I
say that your suggestions are more than sensible, Ms. Adams.”

“If we agree to this, there will be additional stipulations for you, Jack,” his dad said. “You’re not off the hook for the vandalism.”

“Understood,” Jack said.

The mayor sighed and stuck out his hand to me, the tiniest of smiles tugging at his serious mouth. “I guess that means you and I have a deal.”

THE MAYOR LEFT WITH HIS POSSE WHILE MOM AND
Mrs. Vincent got friendly and headed back inside the gallery together to collect my painting. I got so
caught up in all the hoopla, I didn’t notice that Heath and Noah had gone missing. I spotted them down the hall. Heath was talking to Dad. Noah was talking to Suzi.

“Is this the first time your brother’s seen your father since the divorce?” Jack asked, watching them with me.

“Yeah. And no one’s yelling. I can’t believe it. Why am I the one who went nuts and Heath is taking it all in stride? He’s the emotional one, not me.”

Jack shuffled me out of the way of a group of rowdy students barreling down the hall. “It probably helps that Heath isn’t being bamboozled into meeting your father under false
pretenses like you were.”

“I don’t think that’s a real word.”

“
Bamboozled
? Of course it is. Never question my authority when it comes to vocabulary, Bex. By the way, thanks for saving me from purgatory in Massachusetts. And for saving
us.”

“I think it was more Jillian’s influence than mine. You should go see her tonight and tell her all about it. And—hey! I can go with you.” I turned around to face him,
giddy with the realization.

“A week until school starts, so we’ve still got a little midnight oil to burn before the curfew kicks in,” he said, waggling his brows as he wrapped his arms around me.

“Curfew,” I said with a snort. “We’ll see about that.”

“Nuh-uh. Don’t even start. I’m not risking Nurse Katherine’s wrath again, not when I just got you back. By the way, I never got a chance to tell you earlier, but
it’s nice to see you wearing the necklace. Do you like it?”

“I
love
it. I’ll never take it off. Well, apart from X-rays.”

“Always practical. I’m glad you love it.
It
loves
you
right back.”

“Does
it?”

“Never doubt it. And when we’re alone, I’d like to show you how much.”

“That sounds a little filthy.”

“It’s a lot filthy,” he assured me with a coy smile. His eyes darted over my head. “Put a hold on that filth. Looks like your father wants to talk with you.”

Dad was waving me over to him and Heath. It looked suspiciously like a trap, but considering all the crap I’d been through that night, my father was the least of my worries.
“Don’t move,” I told Jack. “I’ll be right back.”

I warily approached them, checking Heath’s face for signs of trauma. He just lifted his brows as if to say,
Yeah, I can’t believe this is happening, either.

Dad herded us both to the side and spoke to us privately. “I’m sorry you didn’t win, Beatrix,” he told me. “It was a remarkably intelligent and emotional piece of
work.”

That sounded like something VP Van Asch would say, but I refrained from pointing this out. “Thanks.”

“Heath was just telling me about applying to his vet tech program, and I wanted you both to know that your mother and I have been talking a little this week—”

“Hello,
Twilight Zone
,” Heath mumbled.

“—and we came to a new compromise about financial matters. I’ve been building a little nest egg for the two of you, so I suggested, and she agreed, that I will cover your
college costs. If you can secure scholarships or grants, that’s wonderful. If not, anywhere you want to go is on me.”

Heath and I stared at him, then at each other.

“What’s the catch?” I asked.

“No catch,” he said, stuffing his hands into his sport coat pockets. “Just try to pick somewhere within the state to help with the cost. And you might keep your mother’s
feelings in mind and look at schools in the Bay Area. Beatrix, she told me you’re interested in taking both art and medical classes. Stanford’s the natural choice for medicine, but if
you want both, maybe you’ll consider Berkeley.”

“Berkeley.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m partial, of course, but it would certainly look great on your curriculum vitae when you’re considering future graduate schools or grants. But
it’s up to you.”

“I still feel like there’s a catch,” Heath said. “Mom really agreed to this?”

Dad nodded. “I’m as surprised as you are. And there’s really no catch. I’d love to have lunch with you now and then, of course. Suzi and I have a pool, so if you ever
wanted to come over and stay with us—”

“A pool?” Heath said.

I rolled my eyes at my brother. “You don’t even know how to swim.”