White Rabbit(75)
Sebastian claps both hands to his head and lets out an exasperated wail. “This is insane! It’s in-freaking-sane, Rufus. I mean, what the hell? We know they’re lying, but we can’t do anything about it?”
“The police can’t do anything,” I counter. “But we wanted to try turning them against each other, right? Well, maybe this is our leverage. Quick—don’t think, just answer. Which one of them is more likely to cave here: Peyton or Race?”
After a fractional hesitation, he decides, “Race.”
I consider his answer. It makes sense; Race isn’t especially smart, and if we can convincingly act like we know more than we really do—or maybe take a page from the cops’ playbook and tell him that Peyton is already telling people that he did it—he might actually believe us and crack under the pressure. “Race it is.”
We start for the Jeep, the fog even denser than when we arrived, the air around us as tangible as sea-foam. The temperature has dropped considerably since the stifling heat of the early evening, and clammy moisture causes the skin on my bare shoulders to pebble with goose bumps. Sebastian’s arm brushes against mine, and he takes my hand again.
“Your friends seem pretty cool,” he remarks after a nervous moment.
“Was that okay in there?” I ask, a little worried. “Like, are you okay? You’re having kind of a Big Deal night, I mean.”
“We’re both having a Big Deal night.” He gives me a fleeting grin that belies the anxiety I know he must be feeling. “It was sort of scary, I guess. Being, like … out all of a sudden. Trying to figure out what that even means. It’s like I’m walking through a room in the dark, and I’ve got no idea where all the furniture is, you know? Like I don’t know what people are gonna think when they look at me anymore.”
“Lucy and Brent liked you, I could tell,” I assure him automatically, even though I know it isn’t what he means.
“They accepted me. For you.” The correction isn’t bitter, but almost affectionate. “Your friends are weird as hell, Rufe, and kinda nerdy, but I like them. For real. And seeing how you are when you’re around them … it was cool. It was sorta like … I don’t know. Meeting a part of you I didn’t really know before?”
“A good part?”
“A really, really cute part.” We reach the back of the Jeep and stop, and Sebastian slips his arms around my waist, pulling me into him. His touch, and the scent of his cologne, warms me to my fingertips as he murmurs, “You’ll have to let me know what kind of stuff Lucy would do, by the way, because I’ve got some things in mind that might surprise her…”
He brushes his lips over mine, gently, and my breath catches; and that’s when we hear the sound of feet scraping against asphalt, startlingly close. I barely have time to glance up before a broad silhouette sweeps out of the fog on the other side of the Jeep, coming toward us and closing in fast. We jolt apart and stumble back, rising onto our toes to run … but then we freeze in place, dumbstruck, as the shadowy figure comes to a halt mere feet away and a recognizable face emerges from the swirling mist.
It’s Dominic Williams—Sebastian’s father.
“D-dad?” Sebastian’s voice is strange and foreign, his eyes like bottomless pits, and almost instantly his hands begin to tremble again. “W-w—what—”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing out here?” Mr. Williams barks in a sharp voice, solid as a wall before the translucent haze that blurs the night. I stare, unmoored and unsure what to do. “Are you out of your mind?”
“I was—” Sebastian falters, almost swaying on his feet. “I d-didn’t…”
“I’ve been calling you all night long, Sebastian!” The man clutches his cell phone in a tight fist, so hard I half expect the casing to crack. His gaze darts to me, burning with suspicion and something else—fear, worry?—and then back to his son again. “What the hell is the matter with you? You think you get to make up your own rules, now? Choose when you get to listen to me? Where have you been?”
“I … I—” Sebastian’s attempt at speech ends in a swollen gulp, his skin waxy looking. “I don’t…”
“I didn’t raise you like this,” Mr. Williams exclaims, cords standing up along his neck. “To show this kind of disrespect? To … to drop a bombshell on me and then walk out the door—to disappear for hours and not come home? It’s five in the morning! What the hell do you have to say for yourself?” Sebastian tries to speak, but no words come out; he gags with fear, the sound ugly in the soft stillness around us, and Mr. Williams adds, “Your mother thought you were lying in a ditch somewhere! I had to talk her out of calling the damn police!”
“I’m—I’m s-sorry,” Sebastian forces out in a choking whisper. Tears roll down his cheeks, and finally the world turns red, my face molten with rage.
“Don’t apologize to him; he should be apologizing to you!” I take a crooked step forward. It’s stupid and inappropriate, and I’m dimly aware that I’m only making everything worse; but the only two things I’m actually any good at are losing control and screwing up my life by antagonizing powerful adults—I’m finally in my milieu. “You’re the one who should be sorry—you’re the one who should be ashamed,” I shout at Mr. Williams. “Sebastian’s a good person! If you’re too fucking stupid to see that, then maybe there’s something the matter with you.”