“Luke! Luke!” Trina screamed. “Help!”
Luke ran toward the sound, his sneakers pounding down a hallway lined with gray metal lockers. Fluorescent lights buzzed above his head, and he started counting doors, trying to catch up to her.
He rounded a corner, caught a glimpse of her as Randall paused long enough to tighten his grip. Then Randall sprinted, Trina flung over his shoulder, her blond head bouncing as she struggled to get loose.
“Help me, Luke! Don’t let him take me!”
Luke ran faster, then felt the hallway lengthen before him. He turned right, turned left, turned right again, always just enough behind them to catch a quick glimpse of her hair before they disappeared. But he never got closer. He reached out like he could almost touch her, but she was too far away.
“Luke! Save me!” Trina pounded her tiny fists on Randall’s back, trying to break free of his iron grip as she screamed. “Help!”
Luke called up every ounce of energy, pumping his arms to catch up, but the hallway got longer, her voice grew fainter, Randall’s footsteps faded to a rhythmic, dull staccato as the sound of his own harsh breathing drowned everything else out. He was sweating, cursing himself, shouting for her, the sound of his own voice bouncing off cement-block walls.
“Trina! Trina! Triiiiina!”
* * *
“Luke. Luke. Wake up.” Piper’s voice startled Luke out of his nightmare the next afternoon, and he blinked rapidly, trying to center himself. Gone was the long hallway with endless corners, gone were the ugly metal lockers, gone were the buzzing lights.
Gone was Katrina.
“You okay?” Her eyes were troubled as she handed him a water bottle. Luke nodded as he closed his eyes, trying to bring his breathing back to normal. “Same dream?”
“Yeah.” He sighed, trying to focus on the chickadees twittering above his head, rather than the screaming from inside it. He was used to the damn dream attacking him in the middle of the night, but Jesus, the middle-of-the-day approach was new. He hadn’t slept for shit last night, so he’d decided to grab fifteen minutes in the hammock out in back of the cabin before facing the girls. Apparently that’s all it had taken for the demons to take hold.
“What was it this time?”
“Hallways. I couldn’t get to her.” Luke scrubbed both hands over his face. “I can never get to her.”
Piper put a tentative hand on his shoulder, like she wasn’t quite sure if he was far enough out of the dream to handle being touched.
“I’m worried about you, Luke.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine. It’s just a dream.”
“It’s a dream that won’t leave you alone. You should see yourself, Luke. When it’s happening, you’re terrified.”
“I’m not … terrified.”
Oh, who was he bullshitting? He woke up in a cold sweat once a week. Sometimes he could remember the dream, and sometimes he could only remember the fear.
“Fine. You’re not terrified, because you’re a big, strong he-man who doesn’t do terrified. I get it. But your dreams are telling you something, and I’m not sure it’s healthy to ignore them like you’re trying to do.”
Luke sighed, pushing himself out of the hammock. “I have way too many meddling therapists for friends. Have I ever mentioned that?”
“At least twice a week, yes.” Piper smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “We just care about you. And this thing is eating at you, little by little. I just think maybe it’d be good to talk to somebody about it, you know?”
He shook his head and picked up the Red Sox hat that had fallen to the grass. “I don’t want to talk to anybody, Piper. These dreams are my penance, okay? I didn’t save her. I couldn’t. And I’ll live with that guilt for the rest of my life.”
“Luke—”
He put up a hand. “It’s all I have left of her, Piper, okay? I’ll take the damn dreams.”
* * *
The next night, after the girls were asleep, Gabi wandered down to the beach and sat in an Adirondack chair, desperate for some alone time. She’d spent two days trying to stay one step ahead of the girls, but it had taken almost inhuman effort to find things for them to do, while preventing them from killing each other. Luke had kept a wide berth, only joining them for quick lunches, and she hated that her eyes had kept looking for him all day long, despite the fact that he was obviously trying to steer clear of them.
As she listened to the frogs and loons, she felt her breathing slow and her shoulders relax. Water lapped softly against the sandy shore, and the moonlight made a shiny path from the end of the dock to the other shore. It wasn’t Barbados, but she had to admit it was peaceful, and pretty.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the chair, but she snapped back up when she heard soft footsteps in the sand.
“Mind if I join you?” Luke paused beside the other chair. In the darkness, his face was in shadow, which added delicious definition to its planes and hollows.
“Um, okay?” Her fingers flew to her hair, which she knew was already at its wildest and curliest since she’d arrived, thanks to lake water and organic shampoo. She didn’t want to care what he thought of how she looked, but she could be forgiven a tiny slice of pride, right?
“Girls asleep?”
“They were when I snuck out.”
He nodded. “Hard to resist the pull of a well-made Adirondack chair on a beach.”
“It’s quiet.” She pulled her knees up to her chest. “And as you may have noticed, the rest of my day generally isn’t.”
“Hard not to notice.” He smiled at her. “The lake ought to start warming up at some point, so at least the cold-water squealing might ease. Can’t speak to all of the other squawking that goes on.”
She sighed. Even though she’d spent the past three days resenting Luke for either giving her unwanted advice or steering clear of her altogether, right now she felt like she owed him an apology. She couldn’t imagine it felt like anything but a whiny, screechy typhoon had blown in, but wasn’t leaving anytime soon.
“I’m sorry. I know this isn’t at all what you expected your summer to look—or sound—like.”
They sat in silence for a long moment before he cleared his throat. “So tell me about the girls.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, I’ve got them a little bit pegged, having listened to them for the past few days…”
“They’ve not been at their best, just in case it matters.”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t expect them to be. But I imagine they’re not acting too far out of character, either.”
She sighed. “Unfortunately, no.”
“Let me see what I can guess. Madison’s your ringleader, obviously.”
“Classic mean girl.” Gabi nodded. “Collects her posse, discards at will, rules by fear of being the discarded one.”
“Any redeeming qualities?”
Gabi sighed. “I think, deep inside, she’s actually a very kind person. But for some reason, she’s afraid it’s a weakness.” She put up a second finger. “Next—Waverly. Biggest fear is being cast out of the crowd, so she’ll pretty much do anything Madison asks, whether she likes it or not.” Gabi tipped her head. “And by my estimation, she rarely likes it. Basically, the girl needs to grow a spine, but it’s a long process.”
“We carry those here, if it’s of interest.” He winked.
“Good to know.” She put up a third finger. “Eve.”
Eve was Gabi’s second scholarship choice, straight out of another tiny apartment teeming with kids. Bars on the windows, six dead bolts on the door, and a frightening collection of young, sneering men sitting on the stoops up and down the street. After Gabi had gotten her settled at Briarwood, she’d placed a call to social services, since it had been painfully obvious that fifteen-year-old Eve had been more a parent in the household than the adults.
She sighed. “Eve’s a pleaser and a caretaker, though she’d be loath to admit either of those things. My suspicion is that she ended up on their little escapade because she figured the other three needed someone to make sure they stayed safe.”
“And that brings us to Sam. Is she your resident hotwiring expert?”
Gabi sighed, picturing the spunky, freakishly intelligent girl who’d come to Briarwood with her clothes in a garbage bag, despite the fact that Gabi had hand-delivered a suitcase to her foster home so Sam could pack her things.
Obviously her foster mother had had different plans for the suitcase.
“Sam’s a good kid. She’s got a ton of potential. She just got mixed up in the wrong thing this time around.”
“She needs a spine, too?”
“No.” Gabi shook her head. “She’s got more spine than anybody I know. Why would you pin the hotwiring on her?”
Luke leaned back, stretching, and Gabi struggled to keep her eyes from gluing themselves to his chest as his muscles tensed.
“I just pay attention,” he finally said. “Whenever that girl walks into a space, she has it cased within ten seconds. She’s got her escape routes planned before she commits to hanging out. I guarantee that kid knows three ways to get out of any spot, wherever you try to put her.” He nodded, but then his face grew serious. “Also suspect something in her history gives her good reason to do it.”
Gabi stared at him. For a camp handyman, he had some pretty serious observational skills.
“Sam’s a complicated kid,” she conceded. “I think there’s probably a lot we don’t know.”
“You know she hoards food? I caught her in the dining hall last night when you guys were swimming.”
“That I do know, yes.” It was something Gabi’d noticed as soon as Sam had arrived at school. And despite having easy access to as much as she could possibly eat for nine months now, the poor girl still acted as if her next meal wasn’t guaranteed. “I’ll speak to her. I’m sorry.”
Fear suddenly clutched Gabi’s gut as she realized if Luke turned Sam in to Priscilla, the headmaster wouldn’t hesitate to send her right back to a place where apparently she couldn’t even depend on having food … or safety.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t say anything,” she said, almost in a whisper. “Priscilla’s not the most understanding type. She’s also fairly committed to seeing Sam’s backside as she heads out the Briarwood gate, so any excuse might be enough of an excuse for her.”
“I’m not going to say anything. To anybody.”
“I had no idea she was doing it here, too.”
“It’s all right, Gabi.” He looked at her like she was out of line for apologizing. “She’s got her reasons. And if the girl’s hungry, the girl needs to eat. I just showed her where everything is so she can grab food if she needs something.”
Gabi swallowed. “Thank you.”
“I also gave her a cupboard so she can keep her own stuff in there. It’s got a lock on it.”
“You did?”
He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I’ve seen the type. Odd to see in a rich kid like her, but the behavior’s similar. I just figured maybe having a locked-up spot where she can hoard her treats might ease her mind a little bit.”
Rich kid—ha. If he only knew.
Gabi looked at him for a long moment. Here he sat in a backward baseball cap and a Red Sox T-shirt that had both seen better days, but he spoke like a psychologist. She wasn’t sure what to make of it.
She tipped her head, studying him. “You know, it occurs to me that Priscilla never had a chance to fill me in on your … history.”
“My qualifications, you mean?” He winked.
“Sure.” She tipped her head. “We’ll go with that.”
“I’ve been working summers here for ten years. During the school year, I do some work at a couple of the local high schools. That’s me.”
“Handyman stuff?”
He shrugged. “This and that.”
“I have a feeling you’re a little more complicated than that.”
“Nah. I strive to be uncomplicated. World’s tricky enough. I don’t need to add to it.” He turned toward her. “How about you? What’s your story?”
“My story? Far too long and mesmerizing to tell.”
“Ah.” He smiled, turning back toward the lake, his hands behind his head. “A woman of mystery.”
“Yup, that’s me.” Gabi rolled her eyes.
“So tell me. This housemother concept is new to me. What do you actually do there?”
“I didn’t put you off with the long and mesmerizing thing?”
“Nope. And I’m serious. It’s … an unusual career choice.”
“If it saves my reputation, I didn’t actually set out to be a housemother.”
“What did you set out to be?”
Gabi took a deep breath, picturing her freshman-year classes, back when her trust fund had been intact and her future had seemed solid.
“I started out wanting to teach math, actually.”
“So what changed that?”
“My calculus grade.” She laughed bitterly. “My professor hinted that perhaps I might be a better fit for the English department.”
“Ouch.”
“He was right, unfortunately. And then … I took a year off, got my bearings, and went back. Bypassed the English department building—thank you—and double-majored in psych and sociology.”
No need to talk about why she’d taken that year off. No reason Luke needed to know about her older brother, who lived life like he was entitled to whatever he desired, be it money.… or women. No reason to talk about how his actions had led to her complete and utter split with her family … and consequently, her trust fund.
No need to detail her year of scrabbling to find an apartment, two jobs, and her dignity.
“So you’re yet another overeducated, underpaid minion of the American education system.”
“Absolutely.” She smiled. “But when my charges aren’t driving me to drink, I actually almost love my job. I get to be substitute parent, guidance counselor, homework helper, crisis intervention officer, and midnight-snack sneaker, all in one.”
“Sounds … busy.”
“It’s twenty-four/seven. These girls don’t have parents on-site, obviously, and most of them don’t have families who are even reachable, half the time.”
“So you’re it?”
She shrugged. “I’m not the only it on campus, but I’m one of four houseparents. I’m responsible for the fifty kids in my dorm—making sure they’re fed, happy, and successful in all of their Briarwood endeavors.”
Luke cocked one eyebrow. “That last part sounds straight from a job description.”
“Totally is.” Gabi laughed.
“So which part’s the hardest?”
“The happy.” She said it without hesitation. “A lot of these girls have been tossed around to camps and boarding schools for most of their lives. And now the ones in my dorm, at least, are navigating their teen years, with all of the hormonal hell that comes with it. It’s a rocky path, even for the most grounded of kids.” She cringed. “And we don’t necessarily have a lot of those.”
“Can I be blunt?” He raised that one eyebrow again. “Your job title doesn’t necessarily seem to do justice to the job—or jobs—you’re actually doing.”
“You mean because it makes me sound like I sit by the fireplace and knit scarves while I wait for my students to come in for fresh cookies before tootling off to do whatever it is boarding school students do?”
He laughed. “Exactly.”
“I know.” She nodded. “I actually hate my title.”
“You can’t change it?”
“Have you met Priscilla Pritchard? Titles are power, and she likes to make sure all of her staff members know exactly where they sit in the pecking order … which is ten to twenty pecks below her.”
“She sounds like a peach.”
“Rotten peach, maybe.” Gabi pressed her lips together. “Sorry. Given the events of the past week, I have some rather strong feelings on the subject of Priscilla Pritchard.”
“Hard to blame you.” He shrugged. “Seems to me, unless Briarwood is pandering to an audience of parents that long for the Dark Ages, Priscilla should want to show she’s got academic deans and counselors and the like—all of which are titles that seem like they’d be a better match for what you’re doing.”
“You’d think.” Gabi looked back out at the lake. “But Priscilla’s first priority is Priscilla. She loves her own title, she loves the fact that super-rich families from all over the country kiss her proverbial boots in order to get their girls into Briarwood, and she loves that she gets to be the face of one of the best prep schools in America. What she doesn’t want is any of her staff members getting ideas about moving up any invisible ladders and taking her job.”
“Do you want her job?”
Gabi paused, thoughts spinning through her head. “No. And yes. No, because omigod, I’d absolutely die having to deal with the parents she handles. But yes.” She nodded. “I’d love the chance to make Briarwood into a different kind of school.”
“Really.” He turned toward her, full attention on her, and it was both unnerving and zingy. “What would you do to it?”
Oh, that question was easy. “Set aside a huge chunk of endowment money to fund scholarships for kids like Sam and Eve.”
“Kids like…” He tipped his head, eyebrows scrunching together. “What do you mean?”
Oops. Oh, hell.
“Are the two of them on scholarship?”
She nodded slowly. “Yes, but I never should have said that. The other girls don’t know. Please, please don’t … say anything.”
Even as she asked, somehow she knew he’d never dream of it.
He turned away, sitting back in his chair, hands folded behind his head again. “I’ll try not to be insulted that you felt you had to ask that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. I know you wouldn’t say—never mind. Sorry.”
“How many scholarship kids do you have in a normal year?”
She swallowed. Before this year? Zero. “We have … two.”
He turned back toward her. “With an endowment like that? Two kids? Two?”
“I know.” She put up her hands. “It’s sickening. And I had to fight for three years to get the board to even do a trial run of two students this year. And now look. Both of them got themselves in enough trouble that we’ve been sent to camp for the summer. Priscilla would have expelled them, if it had been up to her. Luckily, she has to answer to the board, and this time, I think that board actually saved the girls.”
Gabi pictured the board members sitting in their seats at the huge oak table in the main conference room. To a person, she could predict exactly what their responses to the girls’ little escapade probably were. She imagined the expulsion votes divided evenly down the center of the table, and then she pictured Laura Beringer sitting in her spot at the end, nodding carefully. At eighty-something years old, she’d been the board chair for ten years now, and she showed no signs of leaving, much to one side of the table’s dismay.
Gabi adored her, and she had a strong feeling that the only reason Sam and Eve weren’t packing for Boston right now was because of Laura’s deciding vote.
“Did they deserve it?” His voice was quiet, but the question was honest.
“It depends how you interpret the school policies, but I guarantee you, if it had been just Sam and Eve who’d snuck out, Priscilla would have pushed even harder to expel them. The fact that they did their crime with Madison and Waverly probably saved them, as ironic as that seems.”
Gabi saw a look pass over Luke’s face—a mixture of emotions she couldn’t quite identify—before he set his jaw and nodded slowly.
“What if it’d been the other two who’d snuck out?”
“Then I can almost guarantee you and I would have never met. The incident would have been quietly swept under the rug.”
“Shocking.”
“They’re good kids, Luke. All four of them are. But they’re so locked into their patterns that you’d never know it. You’d certainly never know it, based on what you’ve seen the past few days.” She fisted her hands in her lap. “I’ve spent the entire year trying to figure out how to get through to them, but wow. Turtles have nothing on the shells these girls wear.”
“And I imagine Sam’s and Eve’s are the toughest of all?”
“Of course they are. They’ve both been shoved around their entire lives, house to house, family to family, hell to bigger hell. I interviewed fifty girls for these two scholarships, Luke. I would have taken them all, just to get them out of the lives they were trying to survive. It broke my heart.”
He was silent for a long, long moment, just staring out at the lake. Then he turned to her. “I have to ask, then. Why would you stick the four of them together in a suite? Madison’s as bitchy as they come, and Waverly will do whatever Madison tells her. Why’d you sic them on two innocents?”
Gabi looked down at her lap. “I’ve asked myself that a thousand times, believe me.” Then she sighed. “Honestly? Beyond my bigger, lofty, impossible goals, I thought, given time, they’d figure out that they’re not nearly as different as they think. All four of them have essentially been abandoned by their parents—just in different ways. I thought that somehow, some way, maybe that would bind them.”
“But no?”
“God, no. I mean, there have been moments … weeks, even, when things were pretty okay. But then Madison will step up her game, or Sam will preempt her by stepping up hers, and Eve and Waverly end up caught in the middle choosing sides, and then…”
“Chaos.”
“Yup.”
He was thoughtful for another long moment, and then he shifted in his chair, turning to look straight at her.
“Hey, Gabi?” His voice was soft, almost tender, as he touched her shoulder. It was just the briefest touch, but it sent swirling, zappy zings straight to her toes. “Would you kill me if I said it sounds like maybe … maybe you’ve actually all ended up exactly where you need to be?”