I give him a little shove. “You’re being mushy again. Knock it off.”
He stops dead on the sidewalk, and I run into his solid back. “I could call you sweetie pie. Honey bun. Baby.”
Rolling my eyes, I shoot around him and speed walk up the sidewalk. “Those are all so generic.”
He catches up with me in a few easy strides. “Hence why I started calling you mon coeur.”
“And I’ll call you…”
“Ricky.”
Genevieve used to call him that. I don’t know if I can make myself use it too. Especially in front of her. “Didn’t you try to get Adrienne to call you that? No. Think of something else.”
A car slows and pulls alongside the curb.
“Wait,” Ricardo says, pushing me behind him.
“Hey—!” But I don’t argue any more. If he wants to get shot or kidnapped instead of me, I’ll let him. He can be unpredictably chivalrous, but I’m sticking with self-preservation.
Ricardo’s mom climbs out of the car, and Ricardo’s arms relax, dropping from my sides.
I step out from behind him and take his hand in mine. If anyone finds out my relationship with Ricardo is fake, it won’t be because I didn’t put on a good enough show. “Mrs. LaGuerre. Nice to see you.”
“Thanks, dear.” She focuses on her son. “If you’re going somewhere, I can give you a lift.” Hope lightens her expression as she smiles at Ricardo.
Ricardo’s fingers squeeze around mine. “No, thank you. We don’t need a ride.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he gives a slight shake of his head.
“Goodbye, Mother,” he says before leading me away along the sidewalk.
Looking over my shoulder, I can see that Mrs. LaGuerre hasn’t moved. She watches us as we leave her behind, her shoulders slumped.
“Why did you do that?” I ask as soon as we’re out of earshot. “She just wants to help you and get to know you again. Why would you reject that chance?”
Ricardo looks at me out of the corner of his eye as we turn the corner. “You wouldn’t understand.”
I huff. “I wouldn’t understand a distant parent making overtures to get to know me? Oh, really? You’ve met my stepfather, right?”
He stops walking and indicates a set of steps that go down into the sidewalk. “We’re here.”
A man brushes past us, muttering something about “ignorant kids” under his breath.
“Is it safe down there?” I ask, peering down into the subterranean space.
Ricardo’s face settles into the cocky grin that almost makes me want to do something I’ll regret. “Stay close. I’ll protect you from the mole people.”
“Shut up.”
He laughs all the way down the stairs, and I have to admit, I’m being kind of ridiculous. This is probably going to be good for me. I’ve clearly been living in a safe, cushy bubble for far too long.
With some extra persuasion in the form of government recognized currency, Mo agreed to work late and finish Cal’s car. There are not enough words in English to express my relief. I’m honestly shocked the police haven’t checked all of the cars on campus yet, and even though the headmistress didn’t mention that it was a possibility, I’m certain it’s only a matter of time. Besides, if the police were going to come inspect our cars, they wouldn’t give us a heads up, would they? It would give the perpetrator ample time to have their car detailed. Exactly like I’m having done.
Nothing prepared me for the sight of Cal’s car.
When Ricardo and I got back to Mo’s this morning, again via the subway, which I’m kind of starting to like, the car is spotless. Not a dent in sight. No one would ever be able to tell that it had been damaged, much less that I killed someone with it.
Mo might be my new favorite person.
“This is fantastic.”
Unruffled by my enthusiasm, Mo takes my credit card and runs it through his reader. Glancing up, he eyes the crest on my uniform jacket. “I was wondering, how’d you damage the car?”
Even though I’m ready with an explanation, I don’t like the way he’s taking in my uniform. Professor Rook’s death has been all over the news, so there’s no question Mo has heard about it. What if he puts two and two together?
“I hit a deer. It jumped right in front of my car. Can you believe that?” I am scary good at lying, and I don’t know whether I should be proud of the story that I just spat out without any prep time, or ashamed.
“Deer, huh? Wow. Didn’t know we had them around here.” His disbelief is palpable in his voice.
“Oh, yeah. Lots.”
Ricardo covers his mouth to hide his smile. If he doesn’t cut it out, he’s going to give me away. Some partner in crime he’s turning out to be.
We thank Mo and hurry out to the car before he can ask any more questions.
I only have fifteen minutes before class starts, and I’m starting to freak out just the tiniest bit about getting Cal’s car back into its assigned space before anyone notices it’s missing. I navigate the roads carefully, but a little fast. Ricardo acts like I’m trying to kill him and holds onto the oh crap bar the entire time. Not gonna lie. I take the next corner a little fast just to see if I can make him tense.
It works.
I am evil.
As if killing a man and lying about it didn’t make that painfully obvious.
The music on the radio fades out, and the talk show host comes on. “We’ve got some breaking news for you this morning, folks. By now, everyone has probably heard about the hit-and-run that occurred just outside the Embassy Academy Monday night. I got the impression the police thought it was an accident, but new evidence has surfaced that proves it wasn’t.”
My heart leaps into my throat and I grip the steering wheel. What new evidence? It’s a hard line to swallow, since it was an accident.
The co-host adds, “Yeah, this morning, our local news outlet released the 911 call that alerted authorities to the accident, and it sounds like it was deliberate.”
“It certainly does,” the first guy says. “To me, it sounds like someone mowed the guy down, then kept on going.”
I don’t realize I’ve stopped the car in the middle of the street until the driver of the car behind me honks long and loud.
Ripped out of my shock, I maneuver the vehicle forward. We’re almost at school. But honestly? If there was a witness to the accident, I’m already caught.
I wouldn’t be surprised if the police were waiting in the parking lot, handcuffs at the ready.
Knowing it’s inevitable doesn’t prepare me for the sight of the pair of police cars parked in the lot as I pull in. My skin is crawling as I pull even with the black and white vehicles. One of the officers steps forward as I draw closer, motioning for me to roll down my window.
My pulse skitters. This is it—the end of the road. The 911 caller probably described Cal’s car to the emergency operator, and here I am driving it. Taking a breath, I prepare to surrender with dignity. My future may be over, but I won’t let them see me crying. That won’t come until later, when Daddy gets me alone and conveys the depth of his disappointment at discovering that his stepdaughter has killed a man, effectively ending his political career just as it’s beginning to ascend.