kept singing, and I went from standing there to sitting on the steps. He started talking to me between songs. Franco was his name. His accent was so hot, he had these chiseled cheekbones, it was like hanging out with the statue of David, if David wore Levi’s and was an emo guitarist. We chatted in his broken English and my guidebook Italian for a while. At one point he took a break and we got lunch at Burger King, which you’re totally not supposed to eat because, hello, you’re in Italy, try the spaghetti! But, I swear it was the best Whopper ever. We hung out together the whole day. We walked along the Arno River talking about everything, but nothing at the same time. He had to catch his train home before it got dark. I remember I was sitting on this stone wall right near one of the bridges, and he kissed me and said, ‘Ciao, Cleo,’ and then he was gone.”
She paused. Devon nodded for her to continue.
“I never told my parents about it. Or anyone, actually. But, that was probably the best day in my life. Unscheduled, no agenda, just going with it. It felt like that’s what life is supposed to be like. Not museums or guidebooks, but just feeling the sun on your skin, or hearing a song you like, flirting with a cute boy. That’s what it’s supposed to be.” Cleo sat back and smiled, her eyes still moist. She let out a long breath.
“I think we just had an actual proper therapy session,” Devon said, smiling back.
“Yeah, I guess we did. See ya next week, Counselor.”
DEVON THOUGHT THAT GETTING her homework done in the library would make it easier to concentrate. Plus, she doubted she would run into Grant here. But all she could think about was her stolen pen. At least now she knew to carry her session notebook everywhere instead of worrying about Grant sneaking into her room. She kept Cleo’s words in her head. If anyone had found anything wrong in her notes it would come back to her. But the pen! Her mother had given it to her. It was sacred, in its own silly way. And Grant had violated a lot more than her trust by stealing it. She’d have to get it back.
She found herself drifting away from reading The Rebirth of America Post WWII, and writing notes in the margins of her notebooks. Pregnancy test = Hutch + Presley, Isla, Raven? At this point, was she to assume that Hutch had gotten Raven pregnant? Is that why he stole the test? So Bodhi wouldn’t find out? But, Bodhi had helped Hutch evade his shoplifting charge. Bodhi had to know something more. He was the only other person to see Hutch that day in Monte Vista. Even with Bodhi and Raven’s suspicions—not to mention Reed’s—about Matt and Isla … still, that didn’t exactly cross Bodhi and Raven off the list of people with secrets around Hutch.
Across the room two freshman girls were whispering back and forth about their Spanish homework. A senior, Archie Chan, read Sports Illustrated in the magazine area. Behind Archie stood a monument to Keaton History: a display case full of old photos of Mr. Keaton in the 1940s, the shovel he broke ground with for the first Keaton building: this library, in fact. The display case had a logo carved into the top of it: the Keaton logo, but slightly different. Three trees, instead of one, inside a circle. Devon looked closer. Where had Devon seen that before?
THE HALLWAY OF FELL House was empty. In ten minutes study hours would be over and the halls would be full of guys roaming around before curfew. Devon said a silent thank you only after she’d slipped inside Hutch’s room unnoticed.
She had to lie on her back on the mattress to see Hutch’s writing underneath the shelf. But it was dark. She didn’t want to turn on the light; she couldn’t risk attracting attention to the room. Next to the closet was a mirror mounted to the wall, held to the wall with plastic clips. Maybe there was a way to get the mirror to reflect enough outside light to see what Devon needed.
These dorm room basics had passed through years of students, so it was no surprise that the clips didn’t put up an argument when she pulled the mirror off. Devon lay on the bed again and she tilted the glass until