“Probably. Why?”
Because a very dark part of me wants to know where to find her. “Just hoping you’ll send her my love.”
Kyle doesn’t react to my sarcastic remark.
“Look, Hudson, just stay out of trouble over there. Okay? Mom and Dad are under enough stress with the trial coming to a close. They’ve been getting death threats, and they think there’ll be a backlash from some of the families if we win.”
Of course there will be. I put nothing past Manda’s people. “Everything’s fine here, and it’ll stay that way.”
“Good. Because you should be enjoying your freedom. Experience life. Girls. Fall in love. Get your heart broken. Find yourself.”
“I’m doing all that and more.” More than you could ever imagine.
“And next time, Huff, text or call me if something happens. Don’t make me hear about it from a stranger.” He pauses for a long moment. “You’re sure nothing else is going on?”
“I almost died last night and woke up looking like a very meaty Calvin Klein model. Oh, and I have superpowers now. Other than that, no. ’Tsallgood.”
“Very funny. I got to go and hop on a call.”
As always, he has important things to do. “Bye.”
The call ends, and I set my cell on the nightstand. I’m genuinely tempted to get on a plane and pay Manda a visit. I bet I could get a spot in the back of the courtroom and watch real justice play out. Wishing her dead.
A sharp pain shoots through my heart. I sit up, clutching the fabric of my shirt. “Jeeesus,” I groan. Breathe, breathe, breathe.
After a few long moments, the pain subsides.
I wish I understood what was triggering it, but so far, it seems linked to my anger. Either way, it wasn’t enough to stop me from wishing Blake dead. I doubt it would stop me from delivering the same results to Manda and her friends if I ever get the chance. In the meantime, I need to learn more about what’s happening to me and why.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Monday morning, I finagle an unscheduled meeting with my academic advisor by smiling at his admin. Yes, I’m wearing a tight shirt. What can I say? It works to get me in, and no one is more surprised than me.
After a short conversation, he agrees to start the necessary paperwork to switch my major to prelaw. I could tell he thought I was nuts at first, but when I mentioned my sister was murdered and that I’ve had a life-changing moment of clarity, he actually starts making calls to see what’s possible.
It’s good news. The change will require the dean’s approval, but based on my GPA, he says he can grant conditional approval for me to at least attend classes—as long as there’s space. My professors must give me satisfactory grades and attendance, but he warns me I have to start studying for the LSAT, which I’ll need to take next year, if I want to get into actual law school.
But I’m in luck. I happen to love tests, puzzles, escape rooms, games, Rubik’s—anything that’s a mental challenge.
What can I say? I’m an ultra-nerd.
With mega hang-ups.
Only now, I’m not a chicken.
I’m somewhere closer to being Captain Fierce Flag, and that’s where I want to be. Before, I don’t think my advisor would’ve given me the time of day. He would’ve taken one look at me and said he didn’t have the time to move mountains just because I had an epiphany. He would have told me to file the paperwork, submit it for review, and hold my breath until next semester.
Only, that didn’t happen. This guy, whom I’ve never met in person, bent over backwards to “move a mountain.” He couldn’t do it fast enough. And when we ended our meeting, there was a look of complete happiness on his face. Like my joy was his joy.
Weird.
But I’m not going to dwell on any of it. I’ve been given a gift. And, for as long as I have it, I need to use it. It’s changing my life—giving me a glimpse of this other version of myself. All I need is to be bold enough to reach for the possibilities.
I’m not saying I’ve got any of this figured out or that I’m not scared shitless about the elements of my transformation I can’t control. I’m saying that walls have been knocked down inside my head.
I thank my advisor and take my new schedule, which gives me the day free since my new classes won’t start until tomorrow.
I decide it’s time to pay Blake’s frat house a visit.
I’m wearing a baseball cap, hoodie, and jeans when I show up to the Alpha house. Some guy in shorts and a white tank answers the door.
“Hi, I’m here for…” I don’t know the names of the guys who helped try to kill me the other night.
“You’re a friend of Big Blue, right? Come on in.”
“Big Blue?” I raise a brow.
“Yeah, the B-man. The Blake-o-saurus.”
I resist saying something like, You mean Blake the Raper? “Yes. I am here to pay respects.”
“Cool.” He steps aside to let me pass. “Keg is in the kitchen. Xbox sign-up is to the left in the living room. Winner gets Betty.”
“Betty?”
“Blake’s blow-up doll.”
Words cannot describe how little I want to own something Blake has ejaculated on. I wouldn’t even touch his Old Spice bodywash if my life depended on it.
“Thanks, man,” I say, going inside. The house smells like old pepperoni and weed, but to my surprise, it’s neat and clean. The hardwood floors are polished to a sparkly shine. The walls are painted a pristine white, and there are black-and-white photos of fraternity members hanging along the staircase wall. There’s also a stained-glass skylight above the foyer to let the light in. “Impressive house.”
“Yeah. It was restored a few years ago, originally built in the early 1900s. We give tours during our off season, if you’re interested.”
“Tours?”
“Yeah. Kind of a tradition. The architecture students love it. We have original crown moldings that are classic to the era, and our six bathrooms are done in reclaimed one-inch blue and white glass tiles that the original house had. Our fraternity raised the money ourselves to fund the restoration. Wanna check it out?”
I never imagined a group of football players would be so into cleanliness and architectural detail.
“Maybe some other time,” I say. “But thanks.”
“No problem. Help yourself to some beer and make yourself at home.”
How shockingly polite. Am I in the right frat house? I look around at signed photos of famous football players lining the long hallway that stretches to the side of the staircase and probably leads to some bedrooms or the backyard. This is definitely the place. The fraternity’s symbol, a loop with horns, is all over the place.
I decide going for a prop beer is best if I want to blend in and check out who’s here. I’m looking for familiar faces.
When I enter the kitchen—and yes, it’s immaculate, too, with white cupboards and white marble counters—I’m greeted with friendly nods and “wassups” from some guys standing near the keg. A photo of Blake is set right beside it. A keg shrine.
I take my red cup of golden suds and head to the Xbox room. It’s a big space with bay windows and a brick fireplace. Two full-size gray couches face three big screens above the mantel, and a bunch of people are playing video games. Yes. Football. Not a shock. What does surprise me is that the coffee table in front of them has coasters under the beers.