In My Dreams I Hold a Knife(55)

Jack’s eyes fell to the floor. Frankie didn’t move his head out of his hands.

“Why is Jack taking your drug test? I know for a fact you’ve been a puritan about not smoking pot for four years, because it’s been really annoying. What exactly are you doing that’s so bad you need Jack to cover for you?”

Jack looked at Frankie, so Caro did, too. All of Frankie’s muscles were tense, arms flexed tight as he bent over. He’d worn his dark hair buzzed ever since they were freshmen, but this year, he’d let it grow a little longer. Trying out new things, he’d said, and Caro remembered the absurd flicker of sadness she’d felt when he said it, the desire to tell him nothing needed to change.

Frankie finally lifted his head, meeting Jack’s gaze. Something passed wordlessly between them, leaving Frankie wincing. He took a deep breath. “I only use sometimes, before really big games. When I have to be better than everyone else. It’s not permanent, I swear. I’m going to stop after this season.”

Use what?

“Bullshit,” Heather spat.

“You have no idea how much pressure he’s under,” Jack insisted. “And other people do it. It’s practically an open secret in college ball. If he didn’t, he’d be at a disadvantage.”

“I can’t believe you.” Heather’s eyes widened at Jack. “Defending Frankie’s steroid use. Your parents would be so proud.”

Caro nearly lost her grip on the chair. Frankie couldn’t be using steroids. He was on posters around campus. He was so important he had lunch sometimes with the chancellor. There was a real chance he was going to make the NFL, especially if Duquette won a Bowl game. Caro owned his jersey and went to his practices religiously, just to cheer him on.

She felt a stabbing pain, deep in her heart. He’d been keeping a secret.

“That’s a low blow,” Jack said, anger creeping into his voice.

“It’s cheating, Jack. You used to be better than this. What’s happening to you? You’re like a different person this year.”

Was he? For all her careful attention, Caro hadn’t noticed anything different about Jack. She was seized again by the certainty that she was failing, that her friendships were going to dissolve, leaving her alone. The pain in her heart sharpened, and her palms started to sweat. Calm down. Don’t panic.

Frankie stood. “Leave Jack alone. All he’s guilty of is being a good friend. Your issue is with me.”

But Heather was not intimidated. “Damn straight it is. What are you thinking? If you and Jack get caught, you’re both going to get kicked out. I know you don’t want that, but Jack”—she waved a hand at her boyfriend—“he can’t get kicked out. Do you understand? He can’t go home; he’ll get trapped there. His insane pastor barely let him come to Duquette in the first place. Can you imagine what his parents would do if he was involved in a scandal? He’d never see the light of day again.” She turned to Jack. “I don’t want to lose you.” Back to Frankie: “How can you be so selfish?”

Frankie’s face flushed red. “If I get caught with drugs in my system, then I get kicked out and my career is over. My whole fucking life is over. I’ll be a public disgrace.”

“Then why take them in the first place?”

“Because I have to,” Frankie shouted, and Caro’s blood pumped faster, hotter, until she could feel sweat gathering at the nape of her neck under her jacket. “You have no idea what kind of pressure it is. From the school, from all of you, from my dad. I have to play better than anyone else, I have to get drafted. There’s no other option.”

The hard expression on Heather’s face melted, her brown eyes softening. “But the side effects—what if it permanently messes you up? Are you even thinking about that?”

“It’s worth it,” he said gruffly. “I’d pay any price.”

Silence stretched around Frankie’s confession. Any price. The anxiety was making it hard for Caro to breathe quietly. She wanted to tear off her jacket, take a big gulp of air, scream at the top of her lungs. But they couldn’t know she was here. So she only squeezed her eyes shut and crouched lower.

“I can’t let you do this,” Heather said. “Not to yourself, and especially not to Jack. Come clean with your coach, Frankie. He’ll help you. It’s in his best interest to keep it quiet, anyway.”

“I can’t.” Frankie sounded desperate. “I just need to pass this last test with Jack’s help, get us to a Bowl game. And then I’ll stop. I just need this last time.”

“I’m sorry.” Heather’s words had a ring of finality. “That’s not good enough. If you try to use Jack to cover for you, I’m going to tell your coach.”

Jack was astonished. “What’s wrong with you? Normally you couldn’t care less about following the rules. What’s this really about?”

She turned to him. Even in the dim light, Caro could see her eyes were clear and resolute. “It’s about right and wrong. It’s that simple.”

No. Anger seized Caro. What Frankie was doing was wrong, yes, but Heather would destroy his life if she told his coach, get him expelled. Which meant she would destroy the East House Seven.

Abruptly, Heather shoved the Ziploc with the cup back in her bag and spun away, moving fast, straight toward Caro. She barely had time to crawl deeper into the chairs, away from Heather’s line of sight, before the girl swept past.