In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(37)

Outside Kristin’s window, the sun began to break through the steel-gray sky, warming the half inch of snow on the ground. A lone bird trilled.

I sighed. “Caro’s right. It’s wrong. And we could get caught. Sorry, K.”

Kristin only shrugged.

“Thank God,” Caro said, dropping her head in her hands.

She and I went back to our dorm room, made popcorn, and watched Felicity. Two days later, Amber Van Swann’s sex tape was sent from an anonymous number to a handful of fraternity brothers, who passed it to their friends, who passed it to theirs, and within a week the whole school had it.

Amber was destroyed. She wouldn’t leave her room. Her parents threatened to sue the school, but there was nothing the administration could really do, and Amber refused to let her parents go after her boyfriend, the likeliest source of the leak. She transferred out of Duquette before the semester was up, and for months—several glorious months—the whole campus called Chi Os the sex-tape girls. Heather was furious. Courtney refused to say Amber’s name out loud.

A light dimmed in Caro. For a while, she didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to binge nineties shows, studied alone at the library. But for all her talk about right and wrong, she never once insisted we go to the chancellor with what we knew.

I was horrified, obviously. But the day it leaked, my first thought—I couldn’t help it—was that sometimes, you really didn’t have to lift a finger to get exactly what you wanted. Sometimes, all you had to do was sit back and do nothing, and it was just that easy.

Of course, I banished the thought.





Chapter 15


Now

We practically ran, all of us fleeing the haunted Phi Delt house, desperate to get back to the white tent with its lights and music and safety. We didn’t talk—that was for later, when the image of Eric—damaged brother, deranged detective—wasn’t so vivid. For now, we moved, hearts beating fast, breathing labored.

Just as the tent loomed into sight, Frankie jerked to a stop. “I’m not going in.”

Caro braked so hard she nearly stumbled. “What… Why?”

“That, back there, with Eric? I wasn’t expecting…” Frankie blew out a breath. “I wanted it to be different, when I told you. Not tied up with Heather and those accusations. And now…I don’t know. I can’t go back in the party and pretend it didn’t happen.”

“We care about you, Frankie,” I said quietly. “We support you. Who you love changes nothing. We’re the East House—” My voice caught. We weren’t the East House Seven. Not without Heather, or Jack. Not with the way we’d started looking at each other, ever since Eric said the word secrets.

Caro hurtled herself at Frankie, catching him in a fierce hug.

“Whoa,” he said, rocking back.

“We love you.” Caro’s words were muffled against his jacket. “Don’t leave.”

“She’s right,” Coop said. “Even if you are a meathead.”

Something was wrong—Coop was trying to be lighthearted, but his face was drawn. Haunted. Eric had stirred bad memories, sure, but this seemed deeper…

Frankie scanned our faces, his own brightening until he got to Mint, whose eyes were locked determinedly on the sidewalk. Frankie’s smile deflated. “Yeah, well… It’s probably best if I go to bed anyway. I’ve got the parade tomorrow.”

Caro gripped him by the shoulders. “Frankie Kekoa, grand marshal of the Homecoming parade. Making us proud.”

He shrugged her off. “I’m just the first Duquette player to go pro. But thanks. See you tomorrow.” He couldn’t resist one last look at Mint, who still wouldn’t make eye contact, before turning and escaping into the shadows.

“God, if you’re out there, please grant me the power of seven vodka tonics to forget this miserable detour ever happened.” Courtney turned on her slender heels and stalked away, kicking up grass with every step. “I don’t hear you following,” she called.

With one last look in Frankie’s direction, we did.

Either we’d been in the quiet, creepy basement of the fraternity house for too long or the Class of 2009 had gotten drunker while we were gone. Either way, the chatter inside the tent was dialed up to eleven. Now back in the safety of the party, Eric behind us, I remembered my plan, the reason I was here. I could still do this. Everyone was gathered, ready to experience Jessica Miller 2.0. I could turn it around.

Courtney fled into the circle of Chi Os—but to my surprise, Mint didn’t. Instead, he turned to me. “Is it still red wine?”

I blinked. “It is.”

“Be right back.” He strode in the direction of the bar.

Was Mint actually getting me a drink instead of joining his wife? I looked around, searching for witnesses. Caro and Coop stood in a corner, having a heated conversation. Well, Caro was heated; Coop looked like he was a million miles away. My stomach clenched.

I was starting to wonder if I should walk over when Mint reappeared, handing me a glass.

“Are you sure you won’t be missed?” I nodded toward Courtney.

“She’s all spun up—I guess because of Eric. I’ve seen it before. I’ve got at least five minutes before she realizes I’m gone.” Mint took a sip of his drink. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you. I miss talking.”