I shrug. He did start a chain reaction that ended in utter badness for me. Still, most of my anger is directed at Paige. Noah was drunk. Drunk people do stupid things. Paige, on the other hand, had her head on straight, like always. And she led me to believe she’d have my back on this, but then caved at the tiniest bit of pressure. She didn’t have to admit she didn’t believe me or that she saw the keys. We could have all pretended like Noah must walked all the way to the parking lot, found an unlocked car, and decided to take a nap in it.
But no, Miss I-Cannot-Tell-a-Lie had to do me in.
I don’t know why I’m so upset. It’s not like I’m surprised. She’s acting just like she’s always acted. I guess I was hoping maybe I meant more to her. Maybe she’d be willing to help me out when push came to shove.
I should’ve known better.
* * *
“How bad is it?” I say on Friday afternoon as soon as I walk into the small office where Mr. Needleham is waiting for me and, of course, holding a Starbucks cup and his notepad.
“Well, things were better before this latest trouble you got yourself into. Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“A friend needed help, so I helped him.”
“Did you know you were not only breaking a Wallingford rule but also the law?”
I nod. “But I was only in the car for four minutes. I barely left campus, and I’m not sure I was even on a public road.”
“It’s not a public road, but that will have little bearing on your case.”
“Am I going to prison?”
He taps his notepad with his pen, leaving small dots in the corner. “I don’t know. At the pretrial hearing, we’re just focused on the plea bargain. As you know, we were shooting for dropping the charges to a Class 1 misdemeanor punishable by community service, a fine, and suspending your license for six months. My concern is the prosecutor might now think a more serious punishment is necessary or even feel as though we should move forward with the trial.”
“What are my chances of that happening?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug. “Maybe fifty-fifty.”
“That’s not so bad.”
“It could be closer to thirty-seventy.”
“Seventy I’ll get the original plea bargain, or seventy I won’t?”
“Won’t.”
Shit. Those odds aren’t nearly as comforting. Which makes me wonder why I’m still covering for Lora. I might end up in jail to keep her from jail for a crime she committed? Wallingford is one thing; jail is something altogether different. Especially for a girl I never even talk to anymore. “What would happen if I tried to take back my confession?” I ask.
His pen tapping stops. “You can’t take back a confession,” he says. “But … we could potentially explore reasons you may have felt compelled to confess. Were you coerced?”
“Maybe.”
“Yes or no?”
When I don’t answer, he says, “All the charges could potentially be dismissed if we found solid evidence that exonerated you. It would be even better than my proposed plea bargain. You’d have a clean record.”
“But the other person would end up in jail?”
“If someone else were responsible for the accident, you mean?”
I nod.
“Possibly. Or maybe they’d get a plea bargain.”
Not likely with her outstanding charges. That was the whole reason Lora convinced me to cover for her in the first place. I’d love to get the case dismissed, but not at the expense of ruining her life. Not to mention, what kind of evidence would exonerate me? No one saw what happened. Short of Lora admitting to what she did, I’m not sure there’s much hope.
I blow out a long breath and run my hand over my head. I’ll just have to get through the next two weeks and see what happens. There’s still a chance, albeit a small one, things will work out okay.
“Were you coerced?” he repeats.
“Can I wait to answer until after the hearing?”
He sighs and shakes his head before going back to the tapping. “I don’t advise it, but you are free to do whatever you like.”
Am I making a mistake? Maybe. Probably. Only time will tell. This whole situation is one freaking huge-ass mess. I’m tired of legal mumbo jumbo. And lawyers. And having no idea what’s in store for me.
I just want to go home and have things be like they were over the summer.
No accident.
No Wallingford.
No worries.
Just me and my friends hanging out.
It’s all I want, but I don’t see it happening again for a long, long time.
CHAPTER 26
PAIGE
“So I heard Mr. Evans got himself into some trouble last weekend?” Mr. Needleham says.
I nod. I can’t believe I have to talk to his lawyer now. Why couldn’t this discussion have taken place a week ago? A week ago, I would have had nothing but positive things to say. Now there’s this issue obscuring all the good progress he’s made.
“Do you know of any other infractions he’s had?”
“No, sir. He’s been doing great—showing more respect, getting involved in extracurricular activities, following our rules—”
“Except for going AWOL and driving with a suspended license last weekend.”
I reluctantly nod again. I’m sure the dean filled him in on everything when they talked.
“Was he aware of the rules when he broke them?”
I bite my lip as I consider saying no. Would that make things better for Logan? Maybe, although I’m sure he knows Logan was aware of the suspended license. I’m sure he told Logan about it himself. Lying about this would likely only make the lawyer realize I’m unreliable, and not help Logan at all.
He’s watching me with a patient expression, but his fingers tap the notepad on the desk.
“He was aware,” I finally say. Usually when I abide by our Honor Code, I feel a sense of relief, knowing I did the right thing. Now it’s more reluctance and less relief I feel.
Hopefully my words don’t land him more community service hours or a longer suspended license. Even if they do, he has to realize it’s not my fault.
He never should’ve done what he did.
* * *
Later that night, right before lights-out, I wait for Logan near the door of his dorm. It’s been five days since we’ve talked, and I can’t stand it anymore. The initial hope I had about him forgiving me has faded little by little as he ignored my notes and never attempted to talk or even smile at me. He’s angry, I get that, but there has to be a way for us to move past this. There’s no way he’ll let one little thing ruin what we have.
Had.
No, I think, shaking my head. Have. We still have it. This is just a minor bump in the road.
When he reaches for the handle, I take a step away from the building and onto the sidewalk. “Evans, may I speak with you for a moment?”
He goes rigid.
“See ya tomorrow,” Noah whispers as he slips past Logan and through the door.
Logan slowly turns around. “What do you want, Paige?” He doesn’t bother to salute me or use my title. I bite my lip, briefly considering assigning him laps, but then come to my senses. Punishing him now would not help us move past this.