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I wait until she gets through the line, and then follow her back to her table.
“What do you want?” she asks me, setting her tray down.
“He’s not who you think he is,” I say. “Barron. Whatever he told you, it’s not true.”
Surprise makes her take a step back. Gotcha. Then she recovers herself, looking even more furious than she did before. Nothing makes people angrier than getting caught.
Trust me, I know.
“Yeah, I saw you last night,” I say. “You suck at sneaking.”
“Only you would think I should be ashamed of that,” she snaps.
I take a deep breath, trying to control my anger. It’s not her fault she got tricked. “Okay, look. Say whatever you want about me. Think whatever you want about me. But my brother is a compulsive liar. He can’t even help it. Half the time I don’t think he remembers the real story, so he just fills in whatever he dreams up.”
“He’s trying,” Daneca says. “That’s more than I can say about you. He told me what you did. To Lila. To Philip. To him.”
“Are you kidding me?” I ask her. “Did he tell you what he did to Lila?”
“Stay away from me, Cassel.”
Girls say that to me a lot lately. I’m starting to think I’m not as charming as I like to believe.
“Just please tell me he didn’t take off his gloves,” I say. “No, actually, I’d rather you said he did. Because there is no way the Daneca that I know would fall for my brother’s crooked smile and his crooked patter.”
“He told me you’d say that. He practically told me the exact words you’d use. And he wasn’t lying about that, was he?”
I sigh. My brother can be a smart guy when he wants to be.
“Daneca, look. There are two ways he could know what I’d say. One, he knows me really well. And two, he knows the truth. The actual truth. Which is what I’m telling you—”
“You’re going to tell me the truth? That’s a joke.” She turns her back on me, picks up her toast, and starts toward the door.
“Daneca,” I call after her.
My voice is loud enough that people look up from their breakfasts. I see Sam in the entranceway to the cafeteria. Daneca brushes by him on her way out. He glances at her. Then he rounds on me. There is so much anger in his face that I stand, frozen, until he swivels on his heel and walks back out.
* * *
I call Barron before I walk into statistics, but I get his voice mail. The class is a blur. As soon as I walk out the door, I try him again.
This time he picks up. The connection is bad, staticky. “How’s my favorite and only living brother?” he asks.
“Stay away from her.” My hand shakes with the urge to deck him. I will bet anything that she was the girl he was talking to when I ran down that death worker. I will bet anything that he loved getting away with talking to Daneca right in front of me. Texting her from the car. Bragging about his date.
He laughs. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
I remember what he said long ago when I accused him of dating Lila just because she was Zacharov’s daughter. Maybe I’m dating her just to mess with you.
“Whatever you’re trying to pull…,” I say, keeping my voice level. “Whatever it is, it’s not going to work.”
“Me and her—it bothers you, doesn’t it? I saw the way it got under your skin when I talked to her, first at Zacharov’s little fund-raiser—where you got Anton killed—and then at Philip’s funeral. It bothered you, but it made her blush. Guess you shouldn’t have brought her around if you wanted her for yourself.”
“Daneca is my friend. That’s all. I don’t want her to get hurt. I don’t want you to hurt her. And I know it’s impossible for you to date a girl and not hurt her, so I want you to leave her alone.”
“You’re only trying to convince me because you already failed to convince her. Nice try, Cassel, but are you really betting on my backing down?” His voice is smug.
The problem with cell phones is that you can’t slam them down into a cradle when you hang up. Your only option is to throw them, and if you do, they just skitter across the floor and crack their case. It’s not satisfying at all.
