Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(82)

The floorboards above creak once again. Who else is here? My heartbeat grows faster.

Belle looks up at the ceiling, wiping her eyes. “I didn’t have a choice. It’s been a family tradition for decades. My mom, my dad … my sister. They all went to Niveus. They are all invested in its … traditions, because it’s what my family has always done. We go to camp, we learn more about the past … and about how the future could look just like it if we plan properly. It seemed harmless: get two kids to drop out, move on in life, forget…”

I’m dizzy.

Of course she had a choice. People always have a choice.

“… And it’s not just Niveus; there are places all over the country that … that do this.”

She still can’t look at me.

“What is ‘this’ exactly?” I ask, trying to sound as calm as I can.

Belle is pale, tears flowing down her face. I hate her lies and her fake weeping. She shouldn’t be the one crying here.

This time the creaking comes from the staircase. I look toward it, body tense as I expect to see a masked figure emerge.

“They call it social eugenics.” Her voice stutters out.

The words puncture my chest.

Social eugenics.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She sniffs. “I … As soon as I got to know you, I regretted everything. I wanted to change it, make things better for you, but the system is so complicated. There are so many people involved.”

I wipe my eyes. “You’ll be glad to know you didn’t hurt me. I don’t get hurt by people I don’t care about.”

Belle flinches at that.

“And you can’t ruin my future either. It’s in my hands—not Niveus’s, not yours or your sick family’s.”

The doorbell rings. “That must be my ride,” I tell her, moving away. Her chair scrapes against the floor and her hand grips my arm.

I turn to face her. “Get off me.”

“Please, just trust me.”

Her eyes look like crystals dipped in blue poison, her lower lip quivering, lashes blinking, face reddening.

A white cat is seated in the middle of the stairwell, watching the scene unfold. When it catches me staring, it hops back up the stairs, which creak from its sudden movement.

I look at Belle again.

“Trust you?” I’m breathing fast, chest billowing. “I never want to see you again.”

I yank my arm away, opening the door.

Richards stands there waiting for me. His eyes move past me and over to Belle.

I don’t want to be here anymore. I just want to leave and never have to see or think about her again.

“Let’s go. The smell of bitch-ass liar is nauseating.”



* * *



When we get back to my house, I’m expecting it to be empty, like it is at this time most days of the week, but when we walk through the door, Dad is in the kitchen making dinner.

“Chiamaka?” Dad calls out.

“Should I wait here?” Devon asks.

I shake my head. “Just follow me,” I tell him.

“Coming, Dad!” I shout, walking into the kitchen, where he’s standing in an apron, stirring a pot.

“Come and taste this,” he says, holding the spoon out at me.

I make a face. “I’m not hungry.”

He raises an eyebrow but nods, lifting the spoon to his mouth instead. “It needs more salt,” he mutters, pausing, then looks past me at Devon standing behind me.

“You brought a new friend over,” he says, sounding surprised. I don’t usually bring over new people. He wipes his hands on his apron before moving toward Devon, who physically tenses up.

Dad holds his hand out and Devon timidly shakes it.

“Hi, I’m Chiamaka’s bank account, occasionally known as Dad,” he says with a wide smile. Devon looks even more uncomfortable. Dad’s humor is only funny to him. His glasses are fogged over and he looks a bit like a creepy scientist—what with all the smoke coming from the pots and everything.

“Anyway … Devon and I need to work on a school project tonight,” I tell him, grabbing Devon’s arm and pulling him toward the stairs.

“Okay, just keep your door open,” Dad calls out as we leave.

“I will!” I shout, even though I’m pretty sure Dad has nothing to worry about.

We go up the stairs into my room, and I close the door behind us, leaving it only slightly ajar.

“So,” I say, diving right in as Devon sits back on my bed. “When I went to the library, I found this yearbook from 1965. I saw it on Sunday while we were hiding but didn’t get the chance to check it out … There’s this picture in it: ‘Camp Aces.’” I tap onto the photo I took earlier, shoving my phone into Devon’s hands.

He scans the picture and looks unsurprised.

I zoom in on a young face. “Doesn’t that look like Ward?” I ask.

His eyebrows bunch up. “Holy shit…”

“That’s not all. I found out how the ‘dead’ girl is connected. She’s the sister of a girl I was close with. Belle Robinson, whose house we were just at. Apparently, her family all went to Niveus and are involved in Aces. Somehow, they staged the car accident. Aces was set up to ruin our futures; to invite two Black students who showed exceptional promise to join the school, then to break them down. Stop them from achieving what they should.”