Victory at Prescott High (The Havoc Boys #5) - C.M. Stunich Page 0,122

him just a tad less than I did a minute prior.

“Thanks. What do you want?” I ask as Sara glances over my shoulder and lifts a hand in greeting to the boys, her mouth stretched tight. She readjusts her attention over to me.

“Do you want to talk about why you went to Portland and visited a club owned by the GMP? Oh, and also, the racetrack thing, could you stop doing that? We’ve traced your routes, so we know all about your shortcuts and your secrets.” Sara turns her head from side to side in time with those two words—shortcuts and secrets—in a way that reminds me of the mother I used to wish I had. One who was kind, but who also cared enough to be concerned if it looked like I was faltering or flagging in life.

If Ms. Keating and Sara Young had been my parents, I’d be a whole different person than I am right now.

“I don’t hate you anymore,” I tell her, and she lifts a brow, dressed in a casual suit with a loose silken blouse underneath, very FBI of her. “Just thought you should know that. Also, I have no idea what you’re talking about. My friend Vera was supposed to work a party and then got freaked-out at the last second. She called us for a ride, but by the time we got there, she had some guy picking her up.” I roll my eyes, and I don’t care if Sara believes me or not. It’s a good enough story and kind of close to the truth, too.

“How did you get into Oak Valley Prep?” she asks, like she’s fascinated by me at the same time she simultaneously wishes for me to be both good and also evil, just so she can be right and bust my ass. “Your grades at Prescott High were atrocious—although I have to say, that Ms. Keating only ever has wonderful things to say about you.”

“How is Ms. Keating by the way?” I ask, shifting slightly and catching a brief glance of my reflection in one of the large windows that looks out onto the oak-lined street. I don’t look like me right now, like Bernadette Savannah Blackbird. Shit, I could almost pass for one of those rich, spoiled assholes in my short, pleated skirt and jacket. “I can tell you matter-of-factly: the bald-headed, middle-aged dude that works as the VP for Oak Valley doesn’t have one-tenth of her charisma or her integrity.”

“Breonna Keating is doing just fine,” Sara says, still smiling at me as café patrons stream around us and Constantine orders an espresso at the counter. “Did you know that she risked her life to save some of your peers? Instead of locking herself in her office as per the school’s active shooter protocol, she braved the hallway, took a shot to the arm, and rounded up all the kids who were cutting class or smoking. She got them offsite and made the first call to the police.”

A soft laugh escapes my throat, and I shake my head. Fuck me. Breonna is one in a goddamn million, isn’t she?

“And also, nice change of subject, but I’d really love to know how you and your boys managed to take half of Oak Valley’s scholarship spots for displaced Prescott students. Oscar Montauk, I can see since he was on track to be the valedictorian.” Sara exhales and crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking my pose. “And Victor Channing, good grades, connections via his mother …” And here she trails off in just such a way that I know she’s no fan of Ophelia Mars. “But the rest of you? No offense, Bernie, but I know a trick when I see one.”

My turn to sigh. Also, to decide how much information to give her without falling into snitch territory. I decide that children being purchased by pedophiles supersedes the snitch rule entirely.

“I won’t go into details with you, but like, two of the schoolboard members have husbands who tried to buy kids to abuse. We found out about it and blackmailed them. Does that help your neat little world make a bit more sense?”

Sara just stares at me for so long that I wonder if I haven’t made a mistake, if she isn’t going to take this information and use it to finally nail our asses to the proverbial cross.

“I just want you to know that your mother has now been officially charged with your sister’s murder,” Sara