“The fuck?” I’d assumed this is where we’re meeting, even if the details on the message were vague. Wasn’t this supposed to be our base of operations, or… what had Vandy called it? Our dungeon?
“Try your key.”
I turn and see Caroline standing in the doorway. She’s wearing leggings and an oversized hoodie, and it’s weird. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen her out of uniform. Her hair is in two long braids, and she pushes thick-framed glasses up the bridge of her nose. I stand there for a moment, trying to figure out what she’s talking about.
She rolls her eyes and exhales loudly, pulling a key similar to the one I’d found in my locker from her pocket. She makes a big production of shoving it in the keyhole, like I’m a complete idiot. A few jiggles later, it opens.
So I’m still half asleep, give me a break.
“Maybe you deserve that high score on the SAT after all,” I say, pushing the door wide and letting her go in first.
“For the record,” she says imperiously as she passes, “I did get a high SAT score. 1400 just wasn’t good enough for my mom. She didn’t even give me the chance to try for anything higher.”
I nod in understanding, because I can believe it. If there’s one unifier at Preston Prep, it’s that everyone has massive amounts of parental baggage.
We walk down the winding stairs and enter the bunker. Most of the initiates are here already, and I’d been preparing all morning for seeing Vandy here, but the sight of her on the couch still makes me vibrate with nerves. The plan had been to approach the situation as if last night had never happened. She’s sitting on the couch next to Tyson, and the flicker of emotion that sparks in me when I see her smile at him, friendly and open, isn’t something I want to examine very closely.
Emory’s standing by a table, scribbling on slips of paper. I was sort of torn on the prospect of telling Emory about the party. On one hand, I want him to know that I’d gotten her out of there safely. It’s a weak concession that doesn’t even come close to making up for what happened three years ago, but it still settles something inside of me. On the other hand, I’d have to skip over the whole kiss situation, which I figure sort of cancels out any ‘attaboy’ I’d be due.
In the end, I decide that it doesn’t matter what I want. If Vandy wants him to know, she’ll tell him herself. She’s the one who has to live with him.
“So listen,” Emory says, drawing my attention. I can see the slips of paper, two names on each. He’s written Vandy’s name on one and holds the pen poised over the second space. “I know we talked about you teaming up with V for all this stuff, but I was thinking of putting her with Tyson tonight.”
Against my will, my eyes fly over to him. He’s telling Vandy some kind of story that apparently necessitates a lot of animated gesturing. She laughs at something he says—not a big, flashy laugh, just a quiet chuckle. It still makes my eyes narrow. Perfect, squeaky clean, nice, friendly, smart, and athletic Tyson, whose biggest flaw is lying about believing in God.
I look at Emory. “Why?”
“It’s like this,” he starts, and I can see the tension in his eyes. Whatever this is, it’s stressing him out. “This is going to require a few quick and dirty B&E’s, and you’re the only one here who can get into Thistle Cove. They’ve really upped the security since that girl went missing and their coach was fired for being a fucking pervert. You’ll have to pick a couple locks, probably. But Northridge is easy, and Tyson’s a transfer, so he knows that place like the back of his hand. He’ll be able to get in and out, no problem.”
I bristle at this. “I can get in and out of Thistle Cove.” In no fucking world is Tyson better than me at this. Maybe he’s better at being a ‘good guy’, and maybe he’s better at deceiving stupid girls, but breaking into places he doesn’t belong? In no world. “A couple locks aren’t going to stop me.”
“Here’s the thing…” He grimaces, and I know he’s holding something back. “Thistle Cove has a fence.”