“—almost foiled my plans to get information from Mrs. Woodward. It was a nice touch actin’ like you were simply the sorry messenger of unglad tidings.” His face remained carefully neutral. “Anyway, your plan worked until I decided I would allow Mrs. Woodward to show me the light. And when she was sure I was beginin’ to see it, she let loose a couple of gems I wasn’t aware of before…”
A flicker of irritation blinked his eyes. “Do share, Kate. I would be very interested to know what you think you have.”
My lip lifted in triumph; it was nice to finally have something in my arsenal. “I know you’re lyin’ about questionin’ Andrew about me during that first mentorin’ session. Mrs. Woodward was in the room the whole time. She said you introduced one another, chatted a little bit about The Academy, and then Andrew took the preliminary test.” I counted off on my fingers. “So where in that short meet-and-greet session was there room for twenty-one questions about me?”
He rolled his eyes. “Not this again.”
“I asked her outright, just to be sure.”
“That’s it? That’s your proof?” His tone was so scathing it would’ve discredited me to all but my closest alliances. “I told you to ask him about it, and I thought you did and we were over and done with it. You keep bringing up the same old incidences like a broken record . . . or like a crazy person.”
I swear—I almost spit on him then.
“I did ask your brother about you, although why I bothered . . .”
“Right. The day after we’d already had our picnic,” I steamed. “Nice try coverin’ your tracks, elite cadet . . . but you’re busted!” A new kind of cold entered his eyes; it sent shivers of icy fear down my spine. But I didn’t crack. “And if you tell on me, I’m tellin’ on you—how y’all followed me that night, kidnapped me, held me against my will. How I had to escape out the side door of that pharmacy to get away from you. Think that little bit of intel— I’ve been keepin’ to myself—might be mighty interestin’ to my father . . . Maybe we should report it to the authorities?”
A pulse in his temple began a slow throb. Somehow, this fascinated me. I wanted to see him lose it—that glossy veneer of confidence that shone from him like painted-on glaze. I wanted it to crack, so he would be exposed for the imposter that he was.
“What’suhmatter, amb-ass-ador?” I taunted. “Afraid that shiny reputation of yours will get tarnished?”
He had to unclench his jaw to speak. “It’s funny how you forgot to mention how we saved your sorry ass from actually being abducted. And I hate to break it to you, but you have no proof. I’d be careful if I were you, or you might come off sounding delusional . . . no one even saw us together that night.”
“The video cameras at the pharmacy saw us together that night,” I smirked.
“No, they didn’t.”
“Uh, yeah they did,” I insisted. “And I bet we can still get the surveillance tape.”
He smiled coldly. “What surveillance tape?”
I blanched, a new kind of fear enveloping me like a ghostly hug. “Who are you?” Before he could answer, my hand flew up. “If you think I’m gonna let my brother get snatched up by your evil organization, you’re insane!”
“What’s insane is your head,” Pete announced loudly enough for the farthest recesses of the crowd to hear. He took a step back from me now like I was covered in crazy drool. “I see your father’s right—you are absolutely delusional. Everyone knows that mental illness runs in families . . . and it looks like you inherited your mother’s genes.”
The words zinged through the air and hit me with the blunt force of a slap. So I did the only thing I could to retaliate—I slapped him back. With the full force of my rage. It was loud. Our onlookers collectively gasped. But I could only focus on the imprint of my hand staining his perfect face. I was stunned. He was stunned. Everyone was stunned. Our eyes met, communicating the same thing—regret.
How could we have let it get so ugly?
I heard a tittering mixture of approval and outrage from the reinvigorated audience. The headliners were frozen, staring wordlessly at each other. My eyes teared up about the same time he slid me a reptilian smile.
“Feel better?” he said.
Shock, lack of sleep, constant fear, and being the center of a spectacle, which climaxed with me performing an act of violence, was suddenly too much. I stumbled back a few paces, my hand stifling a sob. It looked like his face melted, but it could’ve just been my blurry eyesight.
“Kate . . .”
Reeling, I turned and fled with the sound of my name still on his lips. I couldn’t face him now—the ugliness between us—I wasn’t equipped to deal with it. I made it back to the relative safety of my car and tried wrenching the door open, but the dang thing refused to budge. Just like my life—it was getting worse. After a couple of more failed attempts, I stalled out and collapsed over the top of my car, weeping.
Am I delusional? Am I paranoid like my mother and suffering from mental illness? I honestly didn’t know anymore. All I knew was that I was flat-out, to-the-marrow exhausted.
Pete was behind me now. I couldn’t even look at him, afraid of what I might see. I heard him swear under his breath. “Kate . . .” He hesitated before placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry. I lost my temper. I didn’t mean for—”
“Just l-leave me a-alone!” I couldn’t listen to his sorries right now. He’d humiliated and discredited me and talked bad about my dead mama.
He tried to pull me to him. I half-heartedly shrugged him off. Half of me wanted him to hug me. The half I hated right now.
“Kate, listen to me, please.”
“I mean it, Pete . . . just l-leave me a-alone.” I already felt alone. And helpless. A JV player transplanted into the Big Leagues against my will. Who was I kidding? I couldn’t win. Sobs started heaving from my body.
“I’m not leaving until I know you’re okay.”
“P-p-please just go!” I begged.
He went to grab my arm again when something pulled him back. “You heard her. She wants you to leave her alone.”
Miguel. Oh God! Did not need more of an audience to witness my nervous breakdown.
“You need to mind your own business,” Pete said, a threat audible in there.
“Katie’s more my business than yours.” Miguel wise-guy laughed. “Dude, need I remind you?—you just got here yesterday . . . and nobody will miss seein’ you when you leave tomorrow.”
Loud, raucous laughter erupted from Miguel’s running buddies. My stomach dropped. Emotionally charged crowds usually came with violence attached. I had to do something. But Pete had already turned his back on me to confront my well-meaning friend.
“Well, dude,” Pete spoke down, as one only could, who was both taller and socially superior. “This has nothing to do with you. So I suggest you back up out of my personal space . . . while you still can.”
“You gonna make me?” Instant encouragement spewed like sparks from Miguel’s fired-up friends.
Oh Lord! This was escalating fast. I spun around, too alarmed to care what a mess my face was. “Guys, stop! Please!” I spread my arms out, imploring. “I just wanna go home.”