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And even though I’m the one who changed my mind about giving him a second chance, I can’t imagine a scenario where Iwon’tregret it. Because after everything that’s happened these past few days, agreeing to tutor Sebastian Murdoch is clearly the worst possible way to make myself become invisible again.
Chapter Nine
Seb
IheadtoXave’shouse after detention today because I’ve barely seen him since my suspension last week. Also, you know, he does still owe me that hundred bucks.
I find him sitting on his bed, strumming on his beat-up guitar. The thing’s gotta be at least twenty years old, ’cause I know he bought it second-hand. It’s covered in faded stickers and scratches and nicks, but honest to God, it’s probably his most prized possession.
“What’s up?” He lifts his chin in greeting when I enter his room.
“Came to collect my winnings,” I grin, not bothering to close the door as I saunter into his room. “Cost me a week’s suspension, asshole.”
Xave laughs, pausing his guitar playing as he looks up. “Yeah, aren’t you still grounded right now or something?”
I shrug. “Told my folks I’m in detention ’till five.”
He nods and goes back to strumming. “There’s money in the desk drawer. Top one.”
I make my way over to the fancy wood desk that looks like it belongs in a ship captain’s quarters or something and pull open the top drawer. Sure enough, it’s overflowing with wads of crumpled and loosely folded bills. I take the least wrinkled hundred-dollar bill and smooth it out a few times against the desk’s shiny surface before folding it and tucking it in my pocket.
“Ever heard of a wallet?” I ask, squashing down the overflowing contents of the drawer before pushing it closed.
“I have a wallet.” He doesn’t even look up this time. Or pause the strumming.
I make my way across his room to the oversized armchair by the huge-ass bay window overlooking rolling waves as far as the eye can see. Pretty similar to the view from my own bedroom window. Only his house is on the tip of the peninsula, so the panorama is even more insane.
“Holy crap,” I glance around his room, once I’m sitting down. “Did your mom redecorate again?”
His walls used to be white, or cream or something. And now they’re covered in dark wood paneling, kind of like Tromely’s office. With floor-to-ceiling blue velvet curtains hanging on either side of the arched bay window.
“Yup,” Xave says, still strumming.
I chuckle. “It looks like the freakin’ Gryffindor common room in here.”
“Pretty sure Gryffindor colors are red and gold.”
I think he might be right. Also, why does his mother keep redecorating this place when she’s never even around?
I don’t ask that out loud, though. Xave’s fully aware how bizarre his mother is—hell, his whole life is—without me reminding him. I sink further into the chair and scroll through my phone for a bit while Xave continues figuring out whatever song he’s learning. I spend a couple of minutes trying to locate Caroline Heinz on social media but can’t find any trace of her. What the hell is this girl’s deal, anyway? Is she the last remaining teen girl to not have an Insta account?
“Caroline Heinz? You know her?” I ask Xave.
“You mean Caroline Padoleski.” He grins, playing an impressive lick from some nineteen-eighties song. “Crazy tall. blond hair. Can’t hold her liquor.”
“Nah, dude. Caroline Heinz. Super smart chick.”
He looks up and gives me a funny look. “Isn’t she the girl who gets railed on all the time? Definitely crazy smart. Kinda quirky.” He eyes me almost suspiciously. “Why?”
“She’s tutoring me.”
Xave’s eyebrows shoot up. “You got a tutor?” Then his lips curl into a grin. “Thank fuck it isn’t Caroline Padoleski, then. Last week she asked Mr. V. if the Sphynx is in Paris or Vegas.”
“Huh.” I don’t tell him I have no clue what the Sphynx is or where the hell it’s located.
Not that Xave would care. He’s the least judgmental guy I know; one of the things I love about him. Also, the fact that he’s up for almost anything. And always has my back, no matter what.
“You know anything else about her?”
