The president walks through specifics, noting that it is unclear if I’ll get credit for my classes since I left before the instructors turned in the grades.
I sign a document promising not to give interviews or discuss CALINVA or the Zoich on social media, and in return, they agree not to comment publicly about my part in the crime. I turn over my ID card and the guard escorts me from the building.
I plunk myself down on a cement planter not far from the entrance to wait for the airy feeling in my head to dissolve. My first and last semester at CALINVA is over.
My hands are ice, and I raise my face to the sun. God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change… I picture Mom with her hand resting on her wrist, and for the first time, I understand why blowing out the candles on those stupid cupcakes was so important to her.
My wrist is white and blank, a perfect canvas. I trace the blue veins with my finger. “Serenity” was Mom’s guiding light, but there’s got to be a word that can be mine.
Despite CALINVA’s official promise of silence, my fellow students are all too eager to share the rumors about what I did. By noon a pic of me wearing Taysha’s leather flapper dress is everywhere, and I’m the talented but pathetically gullible art student linked to the scandalous desecration and theft of a contemporary masterwork.
That a lot of what they’re saying about me is true doesn’t make it easier to handle. The only thing that makes it bearable is that Kevin’s meeting me in the park during a break from his physics study group.
The park isn’t crowded even though it’s lunchtime and the sun is warm. Lawn bowlers cluster outside their tiny clubhouse, the light bouncing off their immaculate white sweaters and pants, while only a few yards away, the blanketed forms of sleeping men and women form gray islands on the thin grass.
I scan the benches and picnic tables under the palm trees and magnolias for Kevin. I spy him before he sees me.
His red mountain bike leans against a picnic table and he’s sitting on top. His back is turned, but even from across the street, I see his foot tapping along to music that must be coming through his earphones.
He’s bent forward, and his elbows rest on his jeans. I keep walking until I can see his profile. Look up, Kev. Look up.
I could call to him, but I hold off because I need to see him look for me. If he stands up and waves, everything will be fine.
But I’m right in front of him before he finally sees me, and I stop a few feet away, expecting him to smile or step off the table and maybe not wrap me in his arms, but at least close the gap between us.
He seems to know what I am hoping for, because he barely glances at me as he pulls out his earphones and shoves them in his hoodie pocket. “You okay?” he says.
I sit down next to him, avoiding a sticky spot rimmed with pollen. “I’ll survive. Casey Stiner thinks she can keep me out of jail.”
“That’s good.”
“It’s probably better than I deserve.”
He doesn’t contradict me; in fact, he doesn’t say anything, and I squirm in his silence. “I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually.”
Kevin still won’t look at me. His eyes are locked on a bald patch in the grass as if it’s the only safe place around. When he does speak, his voice is hoarse. “I care about you, Sabine, more than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time, but I can’t trust you.”
I curl into myself. It kills me, hearing him say that. “I swear I will never lie to you again, Kev.”
“It’s not just the lies. I can’t handle how you treat people.”
“What do you mean?”
“How about the way you screwed over Krell and that woman whose dress you sold. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were doing was wrong. You chose to hurt them.”
Suddenly I’m freezing, and I glance at the sky, expecting to see clouds blocking the sun, but it’s clear blue. “But I’m making amends, and I’m trying to turn things around. Doesn’t that matter?”
“It matters, but what I can’t wrap my head around is your need to get revenge in the first place.”
“You don’t understand wanting to get back at someone who hurt you?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re telling me you never wanted to get back at someone who made you feel worthless. Not even Chantal?” He shakes his head, but I don’t believe him. “Seriously, you never thought of taping a sack of dog crap to her locker?”
I expect him to at least break a smile, but he doesn’t. “I might have thought about hurting someone, but I’d never actually do it,” he answers.
“Wow.” I shake my head, the heat rising inside my clothes. “You totally believe that. Obviously what I did was messed up, but you don’t know that you’d never cross that line, because you’ve had the privilege of never having your entire life go up in flames.”
He whips his head around and he’s pissed, but not as pissed as I am.
I shove my finger in his face. “You thought I was fixed when I got my scholarship. Since I had money, a decent place to live, I wouldn’t screw up again. But I wasn’t fixed, because the single most important thing I lost can never be replaced.
“You know the real reason I didn’t tell you about the mess with Krell? It’s because I knew you’d judge me. I regret everything I’ve done more than you will ever know, and I wish you could try just a little to understand what it’s like to be lost and utterly alone.”
I hop off the table and Kevin doesn’t even try to stop me. I walk away, my heart tearing away from my chest. This hurts so much worse than losing my scholarship or my place at CALINVA, maybe because what Kevin and I had was what I really wanted most of all.
A news van for KTLA is parked on the street outside the shelter when I drive up the following week. Crap. I shade my face as I pull into the driveway, and a uniformed officer orders the dozen or so photographers and reporters out of the way so I can park.
I park on the far side of the shelter’s van and turn off the engine. I take a deep breath, knowing the news media can’t see me unless they are willing to risk ticking off a cop for trespassing.
Casey Stiner called a minute ago, so I dial her back. “I hope this doesn’t mean the police want to question me again,” I say when I get her on the phone.
“No, they seem to be satisfied for now.”
“That’s good to hear.”
“Actually, I called to let you know they located Gabriel Bellasco in Croatia.”
I look around even though I know he’s a continent away. In one week, Casey learned that Aiden’s older brother, Gabriel, is twenty-nine, ex-military, and a hacker.
“Let me guess,” I say, “Croatia has no extradition treaty with the US, so we can’t force him to return.”
“Correct. But the good news is he can’t reenter the US without us knowing, so you can sleep knowing you’re safe.”
“What about that girl, the one in the security tapes? Do they know who she is?”
“Not at this time. Bellasco was alone when he arrived in Croatia, and the theory is she was a student like you who he conned into helping him. The police have set up a tip line, and their hope is one of those leads will pan out.”