spent eating at that table last year, basking in the sunlight of attention, social validation and actual sunlight. (It’s right by the window.) If Huxley is here, her significantly deranged other must be close. Sure enough, he’s buying her a bottled water from the Latin club.
“Can we talk?” I intercept him in front of the table Fred, Val and I shared last year. Far, far away from the popular enclave.
“Maybe later?” He waves at Huxley that he’ll be right over.
“It’s about Lara Nevins.”
And then he drops his hand. He keeps smiling, but I catch the panic in his eyes.
“I don’t know who that is.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t,” he says through gritted teeth.
“Yes, you do. Those Fairfax gift cards, while generous, can be traced back to your dad’s account. Not to mention once she comes forward about what she did to Steve, the police can trace those roofies back to whichever Fairfax pharmacist sold them to you.”
I have no idea if any of that is possible, but Wade doesn’t call my bluff. He steps into a quiet part of the hallway and nods for me to join him.
“You can’t prove anything.”
“Then, why are we still having this conversation?”
“Look, Becca,” he says, turning on his charm and bright smile. “Huxley is happy with me. Steve wasn’t harmed. There’s no need to dredge up the past.”
“Why did you do it?”
“Because I love her.” He cranes his neck to peek inside the cafeteria. His eyes soften when he glimpses her laughing. “My family moved next door over the summer, and the first time I saw her, that was it. I had never seen anyone so beautiful, so perfect. I had to have her.” He turns back to me. “But she was with Steve.” He spits out Steve’s name like it’s a knockoff brand.
“And this was your way to break them up?”
“It’s obvious that she belongs with someone like me, someone who can treat her right, who can give her the finer things in life. Not some pigskin pighead. But no matter how close I tried to get, she was just entranced by him.” Wade brushes a hand through his hair. He seems more relaxed, like what he’s saying makes perfect sense. “I know I took drastic measures, but in this case, the ends justify the means. Now that the dust has cleared from their break-up, you have to admit that Huxley is much better off with me.”
“I think Huxley deserves to make that decision.”
“I beg to disagree,” Wade says with an icy calm. This is not an argument I can win with reason. And I realize that I probably sounded this deluded in my Break-Up Artist heyday.
“Okay. So you wanted Huxley. But then what was with everything else? Why did you break up all my other couples? Why the Revenge Artist crap?”
“What?”
“Come on, Wade. We’re having a heart-to-heart here. I cracked the case. I deserve some honesty.”
“That’s what I’m giving you.”
“You didn’t mess with Jake and Paulina, or Bari, or Leo?”
“Should I know those people?”
I read every tanned inch of his face. The squinty eyes don’t shift, and the slim cheeks don’t redden. I’ve now realized that Wade is slightly off, but he’s right. He’s given me the truth so far. Why would he lie now?
“And why would I want revenge?” he asks. “You actually helped me.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true. Because of your efforts last year, you left Huxley and Steve in a fragile place over the summer. It made things easier. So, thank you. Next time you accuse someone of a crime, you should figure out how they did it first.”
I bristle at his accusation. I have a mirrored closet door filled with notecards. I know what happened, sort of. Well, I know things happened, just not how they happened. Maybe I went about this investigation all wrong.
The wheels in my head churn on overtime. They move and spin until I can actually hear the click inside. There are two schemes at work here, totally independent from each other. The Revenge Artist had nothing to do with Huxley and Steve. They are completely separate. That explains the multi-month gap between schemes, the different strategic approaches. There was nothing waiting for me in my locker or elsewhere when Huxley and Steve broke up. Then that familiar dread comes dripping back.
I’m at square one. Again.
And that means the Revenge Artist is still out there. With plans for me.
Tonight.
“What’s going on?” Huxley joins us. Wade wraps his arm around her.
“Huxley, Wade was behind your break-up