“He killed Dean,” he said, then again, his voice rising. “He killed him! He fucking killed him, and we’re all just going to pretend like nothing happened? Business as fucking usual?”
“Now, hold on, man,” Tucker said, climbing out and moving between him and Rhett while Coach Daniels and I held Xander back.
“Get off me,” he snarled, and ripped himself out of our grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he screamed at all of us. “Did he meannothingto you? Whatever it takes, eh? Win at all costs. Win no matter what. Put him back on the boat like nothing happened. As if Dean were never here at all.”
“Now, son—” Coach began.
“I’m not your son. I’m not on this team. I’m done. Done with this fucking place.”
I watched him stalk away.
Coach shook his head at me. “Orion. Don’t.”
Tucker glared at me. “Mercer, don’t you dare. We’re one win away.”
A win? It made no sense. Didn’t they get it? Xander got it. We’d already lost.
I walked away too.
Chapter 35Harper
The Saturday after Dean’s funeral, Orion and I stood as witnesses atEmery and Xander’s wedding, because somehow that was life now. The best people died while others got married to separate—Xander marrying Emery to free her from her parents’ money so she could leave the state, not so he could be with her.
I couldn’t look at Orion. Admittedly, I’d freaked out at him at the party. But for all I knew, he was still going across the ocean, and I couldn’t think about that now. My mother barely left the couch. The light was going out in Dash’s eyes, and he spent more time with Mrs. Andolina. I had to stay focused on NoSci—because we needed the money, and because if I stopped to breathe, I’d lose my mind.
Because Dean. Oh my God, Dean.
That sweet, kind boy who saw the best in everyone, the first person to welcome me to this snake pit of a school, was gone. Erased.
He’d been taking amphetamines—provided by Rhett—to keep up with his two jobs, school, and taking care of his parents. One had been unknowingly laced with fentanyl. It was so unfair I could barely breathe.
But I had to keep moving. Give my presentation. Try to keep myfamily from falling apart.
Last night I packed a duffel with my materials and made two trips to the car with buckets and samples. This morning—Thursday morning—was do or die.
I pulled on a deep-green dress scattered with tiny wildflowers, a mustard corduroy jacket, scuffed brown lace-up boots, and my battered leather satchel. I drew a breath, hoping I looked professional. Serious.
Dash was with Mrs. Andolina again. Mom was on the couch, smoking cigarettes—an old habit she’d recently renewed—a mug of coffee in one hand, the TV remote in the other, and last night’s wine bottle and glass arrayed before her. She didn’t bother hiding the drinking anymore, and AA meetings were a distant memory.
“You look nice,” she said tiredly. “Where are you off to?”
“The Academy,” I said. “NoSci presentations are today, remember?”
“NoSci?”
“The Novus Prize for Scientific Innovation,” I said through gritted teeth. “The one with the $25,000 reward.”
“Oh, right, right,” she said. “Yeah, we need that money. The Airbnb business has been pretty dry lately.”
Her choice of words had me biting the inside of my cheek.
“Okay, so… I’m off,” I said at the door.
“Good luck, baby,” she said, her eyes glued to the TV.
“Thanks,” I murmured and went out.
At the Academy, in the STEM Wing auditorium, a table was reserved for each of the contestants for our presentations. Hopeful students, about twelve of us, stood in a semicircle at their tables or spoke in animated but hushed tones. On the stage was the award itself and space for the judges, press, and dignitaries from various universities. It all became really damn real.
