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“No, you’re not!” Audrey says, seeming relieved that I have finally said something she can totally endorse. “You’re not, and I don’t know how to deal with you.”
I consider and dismiss many variations of the suggestion that we be friends. Finally I look at her.
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Lila’s not your cousin either, is she?” Audrey asks.
“No,” I say. “I told you that because—”
She holds up her hand, and I gratefully stop talking. “You didn’t tell me that. She did.”
At that I just stare. I honestly don’t remember who started that whole line of lies. We did it just to borrow her shower. Now it seems like the height of callousness.
“I’ve seen the way you look at her,” Audrey says. “I know you, Cassel. So that brings me to asking you again—what are you doing?”
“Screwing up,” I say.
“Good answer.” She smiles a little, almost despite herself, and leans in to pat me on the cheek. “Stop it.”
Then she walks off. I turn to go back to my dorm, but my gaze is caught by Lila, standing across the quad. She sees me and enters the Gilbert Hall dorms, leaving me to wonder how long she was standing there. Leaving me to wonder how in the world she talked her way out of all the trouble.
* * *
Sam is tapping away on his laptop when I come in. He looks up and goes back to what he’s doing, for which I’m thankful. I get through my Probability & Statistics homework (possibly my favorite class ever), and start a proposal paper for the semester-long project in physics. Then I settle on my bed to do some of my Madame Bovary reading.
I don’t get too far before Sam closes his computer. “Everything okay? Daneca said you got called to the office.”
“Family stuff,” I say. “My mom.”
He nods sagely. “Get anywhere with those files?”
I shake my head. “There goes my career in law enforcement, I guess.”
Sam snorts and starts hooking up his PlayStation to the tiny portable television he got for his birthday. “When you’re done with that, you want to shoot some bad guys?”
“Evildoers,” I say. “Yeah. Definitely.”
It should bother me to point my controller at the screen and watch pixelated guys fall over. It should remind me of Janssen or Philip and my hand should hesitate or something. I get the high score instead. After all, it’s just a game.
* * *
After dinner we have study hall in our rooms. This is the time of night when we’re supposed to do homework. If we actually finish it in the two hours allotted, then we can spend half an hour in the common room. But it also means that once we’re checked on by our hall master to make sure we’re studying, we have almost three hours before we’re likely to be checked on again.
“I think I am going to go out,” I say to Sam.
He frowns at me. “Where?”
“There’s someplace I’ve got to see.” I push open the window. “For the investigation.”
“Okay,” says Sam. “I’ll come too. Let’s go.”
“You know we’re sneaking out of here. We could get busted.” I hold up my hands. “It’s your senior year. You don’t have to do this.”
“Well, you’re our expert on getting away with things. It’s your job to make sure we don’t get caught, right?”
“No pressure. Thanks,” I say. I open iTunes on my laptop and set a file to play. Then I turn up the volume a couple of notches.
“What’s that?” he asks.
