She captured my attention the first day of freshman year when we got paired together in biology. I teased her mercilessly, because I was a stupid kid and didn’t know how else to flirt. She hated me for it. We didn’t speak until physics senior year when we were again seated together. But that time, it was different. She was still the Perfect Perry I had dubbed her years ago, but she also called me out on my crap and expected more from me than I did of myself. She knew I could do the assignments, and she’d pretend she didn’t know what the teacher said just to give me an opportunity to do it myself as I retaught her. She was sneaky in that way. I skipped every other class whenever possible, but I never once missed physics.
I loved that girl.
And now, she’s going to kill me.
Chapter 11
Maya
DoIfeelbadI locked Soren outside soaking wet in a snowstorm while I’m in dry clothes, cuddled under two blankets, wearing a new pair of fuzzy socks, and watchingHome Alonewith Arabella?
No comment.
There’s no room for regret in this game—only forward momentum.
So why is the pit in my stomach suddenly much more painful? It’s going to be an ulcer soon, but it’s a sacrifice I’ll have to make. I won’t let him ruin this job for me. The Maya of ten months ago might have instantly believed his story and let him take the painting without a backward glance. But the girl I am now has been jaded. People suck. And if you let them, they’ll take all you have. The sting of Katie’s betrayal still cuts raw and deep, reminding me of her demands. She’s gone too far this time. Asked for too much. It’s another no-win situation.But right now I’m more concerned with the thief on the balcony trying to ruin this holiday for Arabella. So why haven’t I called the police?
Besides the fact that I can’t since he stole my phone, and the scrambler is still on. That must be what he has in his ridiculous backpack.
I could go downstairs and ask a neighbor to call, but a small part of me is hesitant. It’s possible I’menjoyingthis game. It’s certainly better than being alone for Christmas. And I know Soren, whether or not he claims he’s changed. I can see who he is. He had the typical bad-boy persona in high school, but he was fiercely protective of his little sister. I’ve seen glimpses of that same protection for both me and Arabella. He would never harm us on purpose. At least I don’t think so. And if what he said about the painting is true, then maybe he’s notallbad.
But where do I draw the line?
And when do I let him off the balcony? I want to smack myself, but that would only make my concussion headache worse. I’m a terrible example to Bella.
The movie pauses, and the lights flick on. I open my eyes. When did I close them?
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Bella says.
I wave to her.
After she gets back, I’ll let Soren in. He’ll be so cold he’ll agree to anything to get off the balcony.
I close my eyes… just a few more seconds…
I jolt awake. The lights in the theater are still on, the movie still paused. I drifted off for only a minute, max. But my body is stiff as I heave it off the couch, and I fear it’s been far longer. It’s time to rescue a delinquent from hypothermia.
Surely he couldn’t have died in thirty minutes. Right?
My heart races with increasing worry.
Oh my gosh, what if I killed him?
This whole time I’ve been trying to prevent a crime, notcommitone. Is this how all criminals start out? Accidental murder?
Probably not. That would be excessive.
I won’t make it in prison. And there would be no explaining my way out of it because Arabella has had a front-row seat and will have no objections to seeing me behind bars. She would find it endlessly amusing.
Wait… Arabella.
I rush outside the theater and throw open the bathroom door, and, as suspected… no misbehaving child.
What has she done?
I run down the hall, past the library, down the stairs, around the living room, and to the office. The lights are on, and thereheis.
“Put the painting down!” I yell.
