7

Scarlett

Scarlett’s first mistake had been listening to Finn. Well, maybe not her first. The majority of her mistakes, seen as a continuum, might come down to having listened to Finn. And this most recent time had possibly been the worst of all.

Though, she thought, as she stared at the two boys lying on the tiled floor in a heap, allowing Orchid to stick her boyfriend in the kitchen pantry five minutes ago was right up there, too.

Dr. Brown did not start at the commotion. She did not jump up from her seat when two more Blackbrook students came bursting out of the closet. She merely lifted her eyebrows, then fixed Scarlett with a look.

“Do these boys’ parents also give a lot of money to Blackbrook?”

Not exactly. Vaughn was a scholarship student, and an eternal pain in her butt. Dr. Brown would be doing Scarlett a major favor if she expelled him.

Maybe Orchid had delivered a blessing in disguise.

Vaughn and Mustard were scrambling to their feet. Vaughn’s face was a mask of anger. Mustard looked—well, he looked a little sick.

Vaughn pointed an accusing finger at Dr. Brown. “Rusty has friends in Rocky Point. He’s lived here his whole life. People will care about what happened to him, and—”

“Calm down, Mr. Green,” said Dr. Brown, annoyed. “I’m not concocting a cover-up. The paramedics said that Rusty did appear to die of an exposure-related incident, I’m sorry to say. Whether there were extenuating circumstances—well, no one can tell that at this point. But what I do not want spread as gossip among the very precarious student body is that his body lay undetected for what appears to be several days in the unused corridors under this house.”

Vaughn’s arm dropped to his side. His expression was pained. “I’ve been so busy, I didn’t notice how many shifts he was gone for. I—”

“I’m sure you can understand that privacy is necessary,” Dr. Brown went on. “You would not want to see the school put into a bad situation, were you to be less than discreet.”

“But—”

“For I cannot imagine that Deerfield or Choate have scholarships available for you.”

Vaughn stopped speaking.

“And you, Mr. Maestor,” she went on, “I don’t believe Farthing Military Academy will have you back, will they?”

Mustard clenched his jaw. Interesting, thought Scarlett. In another era, she might have done something with that information. But right now, her hands were more than full.

Dr. Brown sighed and shook her head, looking at all four of them in utter exasperation. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you. Disciplining teenagers is not my strong suit. When employees at Curry act up, I just fire them. What can I do to you all? Detention? Does detention even work at a boarding school?”

Scarlett wondered what in the world the board of directors had been thinking, placing Dr. Brown here.

“Maybe I should send you to Winkle. That’s what we brought him here for—crisis counseling. And you’re definitely all in crisis . . .” She trailed off, as if considering her options.

Scarlett frowned. Wait, Winkle was a crisis counselor? She thought he’d been a normal guidance counselor. No wonder he had no more academic advice to give her than “get a tutor.”

“You have all been to see him, right?”

Scarlett, Mustard, and Finn nodded obediently. Vaughn said, “I’m getting to it.”

“Get to it faster,” said Dr. Brown. Vaughn blinked at her in surprise, and even Scarlett felt ready to jump to his defense.

“I’d like to check that off my list, and it’s very clear you all could use some guidance right about now. Guidance I am not equipped to deliver.”

Yeah, no kidding, lady. What kind of clown show was the Blackbrook board running here? Scarlett was utterly appalled. Headmaster Boddy had been kind and caring. A little lenient, maybe—which had worked to Scarlett’s advantage—but she could never imagine him snapping at the students this way.

For the first time, Scarlett wondered if staying at this school meant going down with the ship.

At last, Dr. Brown stood. “Here is the situation as I see it. You four remain here at this school for your own reasons. Which means you need Blackbrook. And I need to salvage what remains of this fine institute’s reputation. So why don’t you all stop skulking around the private dark spaces of this house doing heaven knows what and concentrate on your actual schoolwork?”

Beside her, Finn started to say. “Dr. Brown, we were trying to—”

“I know precisely what you were doing. In closets, in secret passages . . .” She gestured vaguely toward the pantry.

“No!” said Mustard quickly, looking horrified. “You don’t—”

“I read your file, young man,” she snapped. “And I may not have much experience dealing with teenagers, but I was one once. I know what teenagers like to do if given the opportunity, and I also know that it will not be happening on my watch.”

No one thought it worthwhile to contradict her again.

“And now, I think it’s time for the gentlemen to depart these premises, once and for all. I will be escorting each of you back to your rooms—and, Mr. Green, you to the edge of campus. And I don’t want any more shenanigans, or any further discussion about what you saw or heard here today, or I will be forced to hand down consequences. Do I make myself clear?”

They all agreed. And then, without further ado, Dr. Brown marched the boys right out of the house. Scarlett barely even got a backward glance from Finn, let alone either of the other two. Each of the boys appeared traumatized, though possibly for their own reasons.

Approximately a minute later, Orchid made her way back downstairs. She met Scarlett in the hall.

“What happened?”

All kinds of things, but Scarlett figured Orchid would want the most relevant first. “Vaughn didn’t stay in the pantry. Busted out and started confronting Dr. Brown about Rusty.”

You could never trust him for a scheme. Scarlett could have told Orchid that ages ago.

“I can’t imagine what he must be feeling,” said Orchid, who seemed determined to miss the point. “First Mrs. White, now Rusty . . . I think they were very close. Working together, and having that connection from Rocky Point? He must be devastated.”

Scarlett imagined he was, and the berating they’d all received from Dr. Brown hadn’t really helped matters. They were all suffering, and the best the interim headmaster had managed was to be annoyed that a single visit to the school’s guidance counselor hadn’t sorted them out.

Perry Winkle certainly hadn’t helped her with her little SAT problems, and Vaughn was in far more need of professional help than she was.

She hoped. Or else Scarlett was in real trouble.

“At least Vaughn didn’t have a dead body fall on top of him tonight,” she grumbled.

“Oh, right! I’m sorry!” Orchid cried. “Are you okay? You seem okay. I remember when I found the headmaster—I nearly fainted. Is there anything I can do?”

Scarlett had not nearly fainted when Rusty’s corpse had fallen down. Then again, she’d hardly seen it. She’d been hit in the shoulder with some part of his body, but it wasn’t like they’d gotten a good look at his face. She’d screamed and rushed toward the exit, not even waiting for Finn. She hadn’t even made it out of the study when Dr. Brown intercepted her and Finn, coming up the stairs from the secret passage. And Dr. Brown hadn’t let them leave the room or even speak to each other during the endless hour it took the paramedics to get out to Tudor House.

“I’m fine,” she told Orchid. Not really, though. She was fine about being one of the people who had found Rusty, but not about anything else that had happened that evening. Dr. Brown had left her with too many unanswered questions. “But . . . maybe Finn and Vaughn aren’t. Do you want to go after them?”

Orchid nodded.

“I don’t think so,” said a voice from behind them.

The girls turned to find Rosa standing in the doorway to the billiards room—which had been converted into her bedroom—her arms crossed over her chest.

“Excuse me?” Scarlett put her hands on her hips. “No one asked you.”

“I believe Dr. Brown said no one leaves the house tonight. You should be up in your rooms.”

The nerve! “Who died and made you our proctor?”

“Who died ?” Rosa mocked, raising her eyebrows. “You’re seriously trying that line on me? Where should I start?”

Orchid put her hand out. “Maybe she’s right, Scarlett. Dr. Brown sounded pretty mad. You don’t want to push it with her.”

“Dr. Brown as good as said she can’t afford to kick any of us out of school right now. What is she going to do to us?” She turned to Orchid. “Come on. Don’t you want to check on Vaughn?” Scarlett sure as hell wanted to have it out with Plum. He could have gotten them expelled tonight. Expelled!

Orchid pulled her phone out of her pocket and cast a guilty glance at Rosa. “You know what? I’ll just text him.”

Scarlett rolled her eyes, but Rosa nodded and disappeared into her bedroom again.

“Are you serious?” Scarlett asked. “You’re going to let the new girl boss you around?”

“What, you’d prefer I let you boss me around?”

Yes. Obviously.

“Whatever.” Scarlett turned on her heel and marched up the stairs. No one ever listened to her. Finn hadn’t, and now he’d lost his project in the corpse-infested basement. Dr. Brown hadn’t, and now she was dealing with another scandal. Orchid hadn’t, and now she wasn’t going to get to see Vaughn tonight.

Which probably wasn’t a bad thing, if Scarlett really thought about it. Orchid could do way better than some Rocky Point nobody.

In her room, Scarlett turned to her computer. Her stats were way down this month. She hadn’t been posting much. First because it was hard to concentrate after the storm, and these past few weeks, because of stress over her test scores. It was tough to watch everyone abandoning her, though, or, worse, making up reasons why she was absent.

Because that’s what people did. Jumped to crazy conclusions if they weren’t given utterly reasonable alternative explanations. Dr. Brown was right to make sure the story was clear about Rusty’s death. You had to give people a story they found easy to accept. That’s why she hadn’t said anything to disabuse the headmaster from her opinion that she and Finn had been down in the secret passage because they’d been looking for a place to hook up.

Mustard, however, had been very quick to deny it when it came to him and Vaughn in the closet. Boys and their fragile egos! It would be just like some macho military kid to prefer expulsion to the mere suggestion that he might have been making out with another guy. Scarlett shook her head.

She looked down at her sweater. It had gotten grimy and dusty down in the passage, but when she went to strip it off, she felt her hair flop against her face, clammy and sticky. She touched a hank of the black tresses, and her hand came away red.

Scarlett’s breath caught in her throat. Was she bleeding? She rushed to the mirror to check out her head and neck but saw no injury there. And nothing hurt, at any rate. Well, maybe her shoulder was a bit sore from where Rusty’s body had slammed down on it in the passage . . .

Rusty.

People who died of exposure didn’t bleed. People who had heart attacks didn’t bleed either.

Whether there were extenuating circumstances—well, no one can tell that at this point.

Scarlett stared at her reflection in newfound terror. But the murderer was in jail! Mrs. White was in jail!

There had to be another explanation. Maybe dead bodies just . . . bled? Scarlett wondered if that was the kind of thing you could look up on the internet.

Her phone buzzed on her desk. She picked it up and turned on the screen.

She snorted and typed back.

Finn didn’t type anything. Scarlett practically screamed at the phone.

Scarlett blinked at the phone.

Three little dots. For what seemed like an eternity.

And then:

A picture popped up on the text screen.

For a second, she had no idea what she was looking at. And then, it hit her. A wad of twenty-dollar bills, smeared with blood, and a scrap of paper with a message scrawled across it in her signature crimson ink.