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I shower and change, then go to lunch, but I can’t do more than move my food around my plate. I think if I tried to take a bite, I’d throw up.
Business and Economics is after lunch, and Mr. Arndt confiscates my phone after he catches me staring at it. My heart sits in my throat for the entire period, and when the bell finally rings and I launch myself toward the front of the classroom to reclaim it, he looks at me with concern.
“Is everything okay, Harlow?”
“Yeah.” I barely look up, too busy checking the messages from the guys. They’re still okay. Still waiting. “I’m just… waiting for news about my mom.”
“Ah, right.” He looks like he has no idea what to say to that. I’m sure he doesn’t have a standard teacherly response for my particular situation. “Well, you’re not allowed to have your phone out in class, so just be careful. Ms. Watson will take it away until the end of the day if she catches you.”
I can hear the unspoken warning in his voice, and I appreciate it. Mr. Arndt isn’t exactly a rebel—he was the one who brought me to the principal when Savannah fucked with my tests to make it seem like I’d cheated—but I think he’s trying to help me not get busted.
In Calculus, I hide my phone in the pages of my textbook, flipping ahead every once in a while to check for new messages.
Still waiting.
Finally, in my last class of the day, I get a text message from Linc that’s longer than two words. Mr. Heller has his back to me as he writes on the board, so I snatch my phone up quickly and read the message.
LINCOLN: It’s not here. There’s a red sports car and a silver Bentley, and that’s it. Whatever car he used, it either wasn’t his or he hid it somewhere. Or destroyed it.
I stare at the screen for several long seconds, reading over his message again and again.
“Miss Thomas!”
Mr. Heller’s voice draws my attention, but when my head snaps up, the look on my face must be so distraught that he backs off immediately. He doesn’t demand my phone or threaten punishment, just clears his throat and tells me to pay attention.
But I don’t.
I put the phone away, but my mind keeps spinning around and around the words Lincoln sent me.
It might not have even been his car. He might’ve destroyed it.
Every time I try to catch a lead, it seems to slip through my fingers like fucking sand. I want to message Lincoln back and tell him he’s wrong, that there must be another car in Hollowell’s garage that they missed. But I’m sure there isn’t.
As soon as the bell rings, I sling my backpack straps over my shoulders and march from the room. I head down to the first floor and stride quickly toward the bank of lockers Savannah and a few of her cheerleader minions use. She’s laughing at something one of the junior girls just said, but the sound turns into a yelp when I grab her backpack and pull.
“What the fuck?!” She digs her heels in and yanks out of my grasp, turning to glare at me.
“I need to talk to you. Now.”
“Fuck off, skank.”
“Wrong answer.”
She curls her lip disparagingly and turns back to her little posse. I turn right along with her, and before she can open her mouth, I address the wide-eyes gaggle of girls.
“Hey, did you know your queen has—”
Savannah makes a strangled sound, stiffening like someone shoved a steel rod up her butt. “Wait.”
I break off, angling my head to look at her. She’s gone white, and I wish I could enjoy this a little bit, but the honest truth is, I’m not fucking with her. I’m not doing this to jerk her around, but I am done playing nice. I’ll spill every one of her most embarrassing secrets right now if she doesn’t give me what I want.
“What do you want?” she hisses.
“Outside.”
I jerk my chin down the hall and wait for her to start moving before I follow. We join the throng of students heading for the exit, and when we slip through the front doors, I tug her around the side of the building. Her cheeks are flushed from either anger, cold, or embarrassment, and she looks like she’s thinking about stabbing me in the eye with a pen.
Not giving her time to indulge whatever violent fantasies are floating around in her head, I step up to her, putting my face close to hers. “You need to tell me something else about that friend of Iris’s. Right. Now.”
