Burn Before Reading(17)

I snorted so hard mid-drink I nearly blew water all over the table. He looked very impressed. I nursed a napkin against my nose until I was decent, and then;

"Sorry. In what world are me and your sons 'peers'? 'Peers' means 'equals', and I'm definitely not going around bullying people and smelling like Burberry while I do it -"

I stopped, suddenly aware of my rant. Mr. Blackthorn only had a little smile on.

"I'll be frank with you, Miss Cruz. Wolf has put in a formal request to me to revoke your scholarship to Lakecrest."

The water that'd nearly gone up my nose danced in my stomach. "And you're going to do it?"

"It's the first time he's ever approached me with a request personally," Mr. Blackthorn shook his head. "I almost felt like his father again." His eyes got a little misty, and I was quiet. They obviously weren't on the best terms with each other. "He clearly has strong feelings for you, Miss Cruz."

"Yeah - strong feelings for me to get sent straight to hell."

He laughed. "You're so forward. I like that. Here's what I propose; you, Miss Cruz, will observe my sons."

"Uh -"

"I'm aware they aren't the most public of people," He amended. "But they do frequent all the numerous parties your classmates throw over the weekends when their parents are away. And considering most parents of the students here have two or more properties, they are frequently away. You will report back to me what my sons do at these parties. This includes drugs, or any sexual activity, or any gambling."

"But -"

"I'm under no illusions that you'll become friends with them," He continued. "They are barely friends with each other. But they never speak to me openly, anymore. Their concerns, their pain, their joy - they hide it all from me. It's been like this since their mother died. Truthfully, I think they blame me for her death still."

Sadness creeped into his eyes, deep and colorless and dark, a sadness I'd seen in Dad's eyes, some nights. A sadness I could only describe as hopelessness, in all its vicious emptiness. Mr. Blackthorn recovered though, and cleared his throat.

"If you could hear even their slightest heart's worry, and report it back to me, I'd be infinitely grateful."

I was silent, stirring my water with a spoon. "You want me to snitch."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"I'd like it to be at least for two months."

"And you'll keep my scholarship intact if I do it for two months?"

"Yes, I think that will be sufficient. As long as you continue to maintain your grades and submit your monthly essay."

"I don't know if you noticed," I gestured down at my dress. "But I'm not exactly Lakecrest-popular-kids-party-acceptable. I don't even know how to - how to, erm, party. I put my hands in the air or something and take shots of bad vodka, right?"

He laughed. "Fret not. Kristin Degal - do you know her?"

"O-Of course," I stammered. "She's legendary. I've looked up to her ever since I got in. Senior, captain of girls' varsity volleyball, and president of the student council. She has the highest GPA in Lakecrest's history, and she's got early acceptance to -"

"- MIT next fall," He finished for me with a nod. "Yes. That Kristin Degal. Ambitious and bright as a button. I wrote her recommendation letter for MIT, you know."

He said it knowingly, like I was supposed to pick up on something deeper.

"Oh, so -" I struggled. "So she'll....bake you a cake?"

"She'll get you into those parties."

"Kristin Degal will - into those - for me?" I flapped my hands around like an incoherent idiot until I realized something. "Wait - she parties?"

"Of course," Mr. Blackthorn's eyes glimmered mischievously in an exact copy of Fitz's. Or rather, Fitz was the copy. This was the original glimmer. "A girl in high demand like that has to unwind somehow. She owes me, and she'll be fulfilling that debt, just as you will."

I frowned. "Sorry, it's not like I don't believe you - but how do I know you'll keep your word? I could snitch for you, but you could just turn around at the end of two months and throw my scholarship in the dumpster, and I wouldn't be able to do anything."

"It is a rather unbalanced proposal, isn't it? Risky, too. That's why I have this."

He proffered a document, thick with fine print and clauses and points A, B, C, all the way to L. A space to sign two names sat at the bottom, and he pulled an expensive-looking pen from his pocket, uncapped it, and signed one of the spaces with flourish.

"This is a document that seals our agreement. I had my lawyers draw it up - it's fully legally binding. It says in exchange for reporting on my sons for a minimum of sixty days, I will keep your scholarship intact. I'll have our waiter be our witness, shall I? And, of course, you will keep this document, so that if I should renege on our agreement, you will be able to provide evidence of my word to a court of law, should you so chose."

I looked down incredulously at the paper. My experience was in reading psychological textbooks and medical thesis’s, not legally binding contracts. But If I was going to go through with this, I had to be thorough. I'd seen the way he'd easily had two people escorted out of a restaurant just for offending him - who knows what clever ruse he could hide in a document? I scoured every inch of the words, over and over, until I could make sense of it. Or, almost sense. By the time I looked up, Mr. Blackthorn was eating his pasta elegantly. He wiped his mouth.