Ricardo’s fingers slide into my hair, giving the gentlest tug. Tingles tiptoe across my scalp.
Sinking further into the kiss, I shift my weight, turning into his body. The hammock rocks violently underneath us. My stomach dips, pulling me out of my kiss-induced trance. Laughing, I try to sit up. “Maybe we should stop.”
“Just one more,” Ricardo says, using his hand in my hair to drag me toward him.
I relent, giving him one more chaste kiss before slipping out from under his blanket and managing to dismount the hammock with a modicum of grace. Feeling the need to put distance between us, I drag his desk chair to the other corner of the room and sit in it.
My breathing is ragged as I watch Ricardo swing his legs off the side of the hammock and sit up. His eyes don’t leave my face, his gaze intense. There’s a fire in his eyes that makes me all tingly. Alive.
He moves to stand. “Can I just—”
“Stay right where you are.”
Ricardo sinks back into the hammock with a smile. “You don’t trust me, mon coeur?”
“Not in the slightest.” I’m gripping the chair in an effort to keep my seat. I don’t trust myself either. The bubbling sensation moving through me is heading toward my brain, making me liable to give in and kiss Ricardo until we’re both senseless. I mean, it would be fun…
Nope.
The last time I did that, I ran over a dead body.
“You want to know something funny? Now that we’re dating, everyone is treating me better. Taking me more seriously. It’s because of you.”
I shrug. “They’re probably scared of me.”
“No, I don’t think that’s it. My teachers don’t act surprised when I do well on an assignment anymore, even though I’ve always been a good student. And all the girls around here are actually nice to me, instead of treating me like an arrogant jerk. I think it’s because they respect you, and since you’re with me… They think I’m better too. It’s nice.”
I don’t know what to say to that. I already knew everyone treated me carefully, but I genuinely thought it was because people are afraid of me. Could Ricardo’s theory be true? That people treat me with kid gloves because they respect me? It’s something to chew on.
If it is true, it makes me even more determined than ever to figure out what’s going on here at school. Who killed Professor Rook? Threatened Gul? Attacked me? Tried to kill Ricardo? Sticking my head out into the hallway, I verify that we’re alone. Satisfied, I face Ricardo. “I don’t think you should help me investigate anymore.”
Ricardo looks taken aback. “Why? We make such a sexy team.”
My eyes roll of their own accord, even as a tendril of guilt weaves itself around my heart. “Because it’s dangerous. You almost died yesterday. I don’t want any more blood on my hands.”
Ricardo’s eyebrows bunch. “More blood? I’m not following. I thought you said you didn’t kill Professor Rook.”
I study the industrial carpet. If I confess now, will it make him think of me differently? Rethink the decision we just made to date for real? Steeling myself, I look up at him. It doesn’t matter what happens. Even if it results in my heart being pummeled, I have to be honest with him. He deserves to know what I’ve done.
My hands clench in my lap. “It might be my fault you got hurt. If I hadn’t dragged you into this, you’d never have been targeted.”
Ricardo springs out of the hammock as if he can’t hold himself back any longer. Striding over to me, he kneels and pulls me into his arms. “Don’t talk like that. None of this is your fault. You haven’t hurt anyone. You’re innocent in this.”
The guilt is squeezing harder now, a pinch in my chest.
Closing my eyes to block him out, I whisper, “That’s not entirely true.”
Gentle fingers lift my chin. “Charlotte, open your eyes. Tell me what you’re talking about.”
Dragging in a long breath, I meet his eyes. “Rhiannon’s death. It’s my fault.”
His head shakes slightly as he gazes at me. “No, that’s not possible. She died in rehab. She overdosed. That’s not on you.”
I swallow, afraid to say out loud something I’ve never told a soul. “It is. We were friends last year, and I knew she was struggling with some of her classes. I was the one who told her she could get something from Professor Rook to help her focus. If it weren’t for me, she might not have ever tried drugs. But I, I led her into it. And now I’m leading you into this investigation, and someone tried to kill you for it. I can’t have another death hanging over my head, Ricardo.”
Ricardo hugs me tighter to him. “Rhiannon’s death was not your fault. You gave her some information. She’s the one who chose to use it, chose to take drugs. Look at me. That is not your fault. And neither is the fact that I got hurt yesterday.” He sounds so sincere, his arms curled warmly around my back.
But what if he’s wrong? What if everyone I touch ends up hurt, or worse? First Na, then Adrienne. Rhiannon. Professor Rook. Gul. Now Ricardo?
What if, without realizing it, I’m the root cause behind all of the violence at the academy?
26
Despite my misgivings, Ricardo convinces me to let him keep helping me as I investigate everything that’s happened at Brat Academy. There are a lot of threads I’m trying to keep track of, and I haven’t gotten to the end of any of them yet.
The police are remaining tight-lipped about Professor Rook’s death, and I haven’t been able to talk to Kenneth to ask if his friend at the morgue has any more information. So that’s up in the air.
Genevieve’s room is my next stop. When I breeze through her cracked door, she’s at her desk, sound-cancelling headphones on, her fingers a blur over her keyboard. It’s keys are inset with lights that move slowly through the rainbow, from yellow to orange to red and on through to purple before transitioning once more to yellow.
I stand rooted in place, watching the colors melt into each other. It’s oddly satisfying.
When Genevieve looks over her shoulder and sees me, she startles, her fingers flying off her keyboard and her knees hitting the underside of her desk. Pulling her headphones off one ear, she exclaims, “Mais enfin, Charlotte! You scared me.”
I press my mouth closed to keep prisoner the laugh that rises in my throat. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I figured you’d hear me.” As I move closer, the music emanating from her headphones becomes audible. It’s so loud, I’m no longer surprised she didn’t hear me come in. “Have you had any luck?”
She tuts. “No. Whoever sent that video to Gul made an anonymous account to do it, and as far as I can tell they haven’t used it for anything else. I’d need the government’s permission to get the IP information, and they’ve got much larger problems. Sorry.” She frowns.
Disappointment slithers in, wrapping itself around my chest. I was positive that Genevieve would be able to figure out who sent the video of Professor Rook’s death to Gul. She’s kind of a badass with a computer. One of her hidden talents. But from the sad look Genevieve is giving me, it’s another dead end. Gul is not going to be pleased.