I round the nose of my brother’s car and, taking a deep breath, I force my eyes to take in the car’s front.
It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Maybe the rain washed some of the blood away?
It’s not the worst, but it’s not good, either. The car’s bumper and license plate are dented in, and the hood is pushed in some too.
My jaw clenches. If anyone sees this, they’ll know exactly what I did. It’s obvious by the damage to the car. And what’s worse? There’s some kind of tissue in the wheel-wells. I plead with my brain not to think about what it is.
Too late.
I clamp my hand over my mouth to avoid throwing up. Closing my eyes tightly, I take several deep, grounding breaths. I have to do something about this. Right now.
Whirling around, I check the parking lot. There’s no one too close by, but the police vehicles are still blocking the entrance gate.
I chew on my lip, thinking. I have to get the car out of the academy lot and to the nearest auto body shop. If I grease the right palms, I can have the car fixed in a couple of days. If Cal asks where his car is, I’ll have to come up with something to tell him. He doesn’t need to know anything, assuming the damage isn’t enough to total the car. If it is, I’m screwed. Thanks to my parents, my allowance is ample, but it’s not that sizable.
Okay. I have a plan. I can do this.
The crackle of the police radio cuts through the murmurs of the people still standing around in the parking lot. One of the officers ducks into his car, listening to the dispatcher. “Let’s go,” he calls to his comrades. They get into their cars and drive away, leaving the gate unguarded.
I slump against the side of Cal’s car, relieved. I’m not going to have to sneak past them after all. Luck is on my side this morning. Unlike last night.
If I’m going to take Cal’s car off campus to have it fixed, it has to be now.
The car unlocks as I step close to the driver’s side door. The handle is ice cold when I wrap my fingers around it. Opening it, I toss my purse onto the passenger seat and step one foot inside.
“Well, well, well.”
A shudder of distaste runs through me. Please, not now. He has the absolute worst timing. I pull my foot out of the car. “Ricardo,” I say, spinning to face him. “Go away.”
His eyebrows rise into his curly auburn hair. “That’s no way to treat a friend.”
“We are not friends.”
“Funny, I thought we were.”
My fingers clutch the top of the door as my jaw clenches. “What do you want, bottom-dweller?”
The corner of his mouth pulls upward as he leans against the car next to mine, crossing his arms casually over his chest. “Nothing much. Just wanted to see if you’ve run over any professors lately.”
6
My mouth drops open as I register what Ricardo has just said to me. He can’t know what I’ve done. It’s not possible. There is no earthly way he can have that information. He was nowhere near the accident last night, right? I snap my mouth shut and slip behind my politician’s mask. Play it cool. “Kind of a cruel joke, don’t you think? The man just died and you’re already joking about his death? Go away, Ricardo. You’re not funny.”
Ricardo does not go away. He pushes off the vehicle and moves to the front of Cal’s car, clucking his tongue as his eyes rove over the apparent damage. Then he doubles back toward me, stopping far too close.
My hair bristles, and firey ire builds in my chest, threatening to spill over. If Ricardo isn’t careful, he’s going to get burned.
His dark amber eyes flick to mine, his voice low, conspiratorial. “It’s not a joke. You and I both know what you did.”
My eyes slide over him, from his perfectly coiffed auburn curls to his clay brown skin to his hands slung in his pockets. So smug. So cocky. So not ready to spar with me. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m leaving. I suggest you move, unless you want to lose a foot.”
Sighing, Ricardo leans even closer.
The urge to shove him away makes my fingers curl tightly against my palms, my perfectly buffed fingernails cutting into my skin.