I blink at him because, like, that’s a huge jump to make. Isn’t it?
“Why would you think that?” I whisper, unable to make my voice raise even a single decibel.
“Because you’re not the sort of person who’d do something like this intentionally.” Maxx leans back, putting one foot up against the wall.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Maxine.” I snort and shake my head, but Maxx gives a derisive laugh that makes me pause.
“No, it’s not that. It’s you. I’ve been looking at you through the wrong lens. You’re not like other people, Dakota Banks. I liked you straight off, first moment I met you. That’s never happened to me before. I refuse to believe my instincts about you were wrong.” He crosses his arms over his chest, still watching me, taking me in with those beautiful eyes of his. Once again, his words ring with confidence, with a self-assuredness that I find almost staggering.
“Arrogant, much? I must be a good person because you think I am? You’re a cocky asshole, Maxx Wright.” It’s a quip not unlike one I might’ve once slung at Chasm or Parrish. Guess Maxx and I have a like-hate thing going on, too.
“Exactly that,” he agrees, completely unapologetic. “Enjoy your day at school. Meanwhile, I’ll keep searching. I’ll find a way to get you out of this.”
He pushes up off the wall and takes off. I admire his confidence, I really do, but I’m afraid that this time, it’s a bit misplaced.
“I’m sorry, Maxx,” I breathe, and then I join Chasm and Kimber in the car.
Off to the academy we go.
Most of the teachers are back today. That’s not a good sign. It means they’ve given up on finding Parrish. I don’t like that, not at all. It’s only been … shit, it’s been nearly eight days, hasn’t it? Eight days since we slept together; eight days since he went missing.
It simultaneously feels like the blink of an eye and yet also a century. Millennia. Eons.
“Most of the costumes are salvageable,” Lumen calls out, helping with the cleanup in the theater. I headed over here after fourth period, even though my legs shook, and I felt a bit dizzy. The entire place smells of smoke and everything is wet from the sprinklers and fire hoses.
Danyella looks like a different person, presiding over the cleanup with a stoic expression that looks as fragile as the stained-glass windows that cracked from the heat. I did that. I ruined the hundred-plus year old windows, the most beautiful part of the theater.
I hate myself for it.
“Don’t do that,” Chasm whispers, lifting up a soggy box and cursing when the contents fall onto the floor at his feet.
“Do what?” I reply innocently, bending down to help him collect the ruined props. I can barely stand to look at any of them. Each and every one is like a thorn to the heart.
“Blame yourself,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush some of my hair behind my ear. The touch isn’t unwelcome, but it doesn’t feel right. It just doesn’t.
“Please don’t do that,” I whisper back, pulling away from him. He doesn’t seem to take it personally, scooping the damaged items into a trash bag.
“You don’t have to help with this,” Danyella tells me, coming over to squat beside me and Chasm. She picks up Glinda’s wand, the very same piece that she was holding the first day I met her. We’ve come full circle, but in the worst possible way. “I know you have to get home for the press conference.”
“It’s okay; I want to help,” I tell her, doing my best to fight back tears. “We’re going to make this production happen.”
The way she smiles at me … fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. I couldn’t feel any worse about this if I tried.
“We’ve decided to cancel the production this year,” she tells me, and my eyes snap up to her face. She’s smiling at me. Why? Why couldn’t she just scream and rage and throw something? I wouldn’t blame her even then, but it’d be easier to deal with than this quiet acceptance. “Instead of doing Hamilton next year, we’re going to do Wicked again. That’ll give us a chance to make it even better.”
She stands up, taking the soot-covered wand with her and holding it in her hands. There are several seniors in this year’s production. Pretty sure I see both Elphaba’s actress and Glinda’s actress crying together in the corner. Neither of them will get to reprise their roles.
I’ve ruined their senior year.
Chasm keeps a careful eye on me, like he thinks I might spill the beans. But I’m not that stupid. It would defeat the entire reason for doing this.
“We should get you home,” he tells me, and I nod, giving Danyella and then Lumen a hug before I let him escort me out of the theater toward the parking garage.
It’s on the way there that my phone buzzes with an incoming text, and Chas and I turn frightened looks on one another. I throw my bag on the ground, bending down and tearing the phone from the front pocket.
I’m going to give you an address; go there now. A box will be waiting. Take it where I tell you.
That’s it. No video call. I rise to my feet as Chasm scoops up my bag for me, and then I show him the text.
“What the hell?” he asks, wrinkling his nose. “I don’t like this, Dakota. A crazy guy tells you to deliver a box and it’s never good. Boxes, in general, are never good. Haven’t you seen the movie Se7en?”
“It was one of Saffron’s favorites,” I say, the blood draining from my face. There’s a famous scene at the end of that movie where Brad Pitt pleads with Morgan Freeman to tell him what’s in a cardboard box that’s mysteriously been delivered. It’s implied that Brad’s character’s wife is in it. More specifically, her severed head. “I just … I can’t with speculation. Let’s just go.”
“What about the press conference?” Chasm asks, jogging to catch up with me. I give him a look.
“He said now.” I hold my phone up for emphasis. “Now, Chasm.”
Tess is going to fucking kill me for this.
But I bet that’s the point, isn’t it?
Parrish’s kidnapper … he must really be my father. Who else would care what Tess thinks of me? It’s a sobering thought. Even now, I’m trying to convince myself that none of it is true. His kidnapper is some random fan, some Mercy type nightmare that Stephen King dreamt up. I can’t be related to this guy; I just can’t.
And yet … I know that I am. I know it.
“Shit,” Chasm curses as I do my best to think up an excuse. He opens the door for me which I like, but which I can’t think about just now. I flop down on the seat, tapping out a message to Tess on the phone she gave me.
Not going to be able to make it home in time for the conference.
Just that.
She’ll be furious later if I’m lucky. Stone-cold if I’m not. When she asks me where I was—
Wait.
Tess doesn’t have to ask, does she? Because she tracks my phone. She already knows.
“Wait for me?” I query, but before Chas can answer, I’m up and out of the car again, jogging back into the massive stone building that houses the academy and storing the phone in my locker. “Sorry, Tess, but you’re not tracking me today.”