Chapter Twenty-Four. Clara
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CLARA
NOW
WHEN I ASKED REID to get under Josh’s skin, I didn’t think he’d try to fight him. It seems like he’s begging for a reason to hit something. Someone. It’s not like him.
But at least it worked.
Josh and I get settled in a well-lit area by the stage. Every interview requires a slightly different approach. I know Josh well enough to know that subtlety won’t work with him. It’s best to go full throttle and launch in before he can change his mind.
After I have him introduce himself and his Legacy position, I say, “Why don’t we start at the beginning. Can you describe the video that was played during the assembly last year?”
“Really? I doubt my dad wants that in the banquet hype video.”
My nostrils flare, but I have to stay calm.
I don’t want Josh alerting Principal West that I’m not making the type of video he expects.
“I already have enough footage for that. This is for my own doc project while everyone is home. Are you okay with that? I figured since you have nothing to hide…” I trail off.
Josh crosses his arms and sighs. “Okay, fine.”
“The video,” I prompt.
“Right. Um, it was a recording of you and me in a, uh, compromising position.”
In an effort to blaze past the awkward moment, I don’t break eye contact or momentum when I fire the next question. “Did you take the recording?”
“Like I told everyone last year, no.”
“Do you know who did?”
“Nope.”
I bristle at his attitude but keep going. “What happened after?”
“Amaya dumped my ass, and you got disqualified from the program for using me.”
My mouth drops open. “Using you? Really?”
His gaze hardens on mine behind the camera. “You’d literally never paid attention to me before that night and hated me after.”
I’m stunned for a moment. Is that what he really thinks? It doesn’t seem like an act, so I ask, “Is that what you told your dad?”
“More or less.”
How much of that impacted Principal West’s opinion of me? The selection committee? Obviously, the rumors held enough weight to get me disqualified. I’ve long suspected that Josh was the source of them to make himself look good. Especially since he’s always trying to get his Dad’s attention.
But I can’t get worked up and scare him off right now. I decide to change course and grab on to the part about Amaya.
“That must’ve been hard when you and Amaya broke up. I know you were together a long time,” I say, reaching for sympathy even as I’m seething inside.
He frowns. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Legacies are interesting. Legacy Lore seems to think so,” I say. “You two were like a power couple.”
I feel gross buttering him up like this, but I can tell it’s working when he straightens his shoulders, the corner of his mouth hiking up. “True.”
“Have you noticed the post about Amaya isn’t that threatening, though? Not compared to yours. I mean, cheating is a pretty serious accusation.”
His face doesn’t move. Like he’s purposely controlling his reaction. “It is.”
“I would understand if you did it. Everyone is under so much pressure, you as the principal’s son most of all. If you didn’t do something to distinguish yourself like get valedictorian, that wouldn’t be a good look for him or the program.”
Josh tries to hide his surprise, but he doesn’t do it well.
“Legacy Lore is grasping, I have nothing to hide,” he repeats. But it sounds more hollow this time.
I zoom in a little. “Kind of seems like an angry ex-girlfriend move, doesn’t it?”
Josh bursts out laughing, picking up on the implication. “No way. Amaya gets enough attention onstage, she wouldn’t do something so pathetic.”
I narrow my eyes as I study his face, trying to discern whether he’s lying. Keeping the shot steady, I inch closer.
“I saw the texts she sent to the Mean Girls cast last year. It read like someone who rage texts a lot.”
He rolls his eyes. “I told her not to send that. She hadn’t slept in three days. But I’ve only ever seen her get that way about theater. She’s literally living her dream life in New York, she couldn’t care less about Woodhurst drama anymore.”
He makes a good point. Which is really annoying. I haven’t seen much of her this weekend besides when she was onstage tonight for the show. Like she has better things to do than get caught up in Legacy mess.
“Well, some people think you’re behind the account,” I try. Though I sound a little desperate, even to myself.
He shoves his hands in his pockets. “You mean Rousseau thinks I’m behind it. More people assume you’re behind it since you have more against Legacies than anyone. Nicole got your scholarship, and your best friend and ex-boyfriend hooked up. You hate me—it all tracks.”
It does track. Almost too well.
“It’s not me,” I say, thrown by how easily he flipped the accusation. It’s only now that I’m remembering he did really well in debate. Because he’s such an asshole, I forget he’s actually smart.
“I’ve told everyone it doesn’t make sense since you stalk us in plain sight.”
I scowl at him, but he stares past me, as if something catches his attention.
“If anyone knows how to stir up petty shit for no reason, it’s Nicole.”
“Nicole?” I pause, frowning. “What does Nicole have against the other Legacies?”
“She’s not the kind of person who needs a reason to cause trouble,” Josh says ominously, gesturing behind me with a nod of his head. I turn and see Nicole and Reid lying side by side on the blanket. She’s laughing and touching his arm. Leaning down and—brushing her hands through his hair.
Even though we’re not together, even though I don’t even know how he feels about me anymore—to actually see another girl touch him like that sends an anguished rush of possessiveness straight through my veins. I want nothing more than to sprint over there and smack her hand away.
Which is probably exactly what Josh wants me to do. He’s using Nicole to distract me, since the two of them have always had it out for each other. But I still have more questions. Questions I’ve needed answers to since last year.
Taking a deep breath, I force myself to turn back around and refocus.
“When she saw that video at the assembly, she wouldn’t let it go until Amaya dumped me.” He shakes his head bitterly.
Now that he’s brought up the video again, I can ask him for the real truth about that night.
“Did you ever stop to consider that what happened between us last year had nothing to do with Legacy and was just a drunken mistake?”
He looks up at the sky as his cheeks grow red. After a long pause he says, “Of course I did. It was for me, too.”
I’m barely able to get the next question out through gritted teeth. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”
“I dunno. It didn’t seem like it mattered.”
My heart thuds harder as I try and fail to swallow the sudden lump in my throat. Somehow, he was the one who had the power to fix this. The power of being believed.
And he didn’t use it.
Because of that one rumor, that one mistake, my entire world got turned upside down. My voice shakes with unspent anger when I say, “Well, it did.”
He’s looking everywhere but at me. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I didn’t think it would be that bad. I obviously didn’t know you’d be disqualified. Then I knew it wouldn’t make a difference to say anything after it was already decided.”
“It would’ve made a difference to me.”
There is more to ask him, more I should get out of this as a documentarian. But the camera is starting to shake the more furious I become. The footage will be useless if I don’t calm down.
For as angry as I am, I refuse to do what the Legacy Lore account is doing.
If I’m going to feature him in the story, it should be the whole picture.
I manage to ask him a few more questions about the assembly, about becoming valedictorian, about what Legacy means to him.
We’re wrapping up when there’s a long pause and he mutters, “I really am sorry.”
“I don’t want your apology,” I spit out. “I want to know who took the video. Who sabotaged me.”
“Why does it matter?” he asks over a sigh.
“Because I deserve to know who ruined my life,” I say. “Whoever is making these posts is threatening to do the same thing to all of you. Don’t you want to know the truth?”
When some of the color drains from his face, it seems to finally hit him that he’s one rumor away from sharing my fate. His gaze is unwavering when he says, “I swear, Clara. I don’t know who did it.”
Shit. I believe him.
But I need to be thorough. “Your dad never got any leads?”
He scoffs. “You’re smarter than that, Clare-bear. He never even looked into it.”
I’m disappointed in myself for being surprised.
I’ve known for a while that the Legacy Program isn’t this motivating track to get us to strive for more.
Maybe that’s how it started, but it’s become a biased, unfair competition that pushed all of us to the point of obsession. That favors the shiniest players.
But now I know for certain that I didn’t fail it. It failed me.
Josh visibly winces as a tear slips down my nose that I swat away quickly. I’m about to put my camera away when his expression turns conflicted as he looks over my shoulder again. It seems like he’s wrestling with whether to tell me something.
I wait him out. Whatever he sees on my face makes him decide to tell me what he’s been holding back.
“Did you know Rousseau tried to give up his Legacy spot?”
I frown. No. There’s no possible way …
Josh rolls his eyes like he thought it was a ridiculous thing to do and continues. “I overheard my dad talking on the phone about it right before graduation. He wanted to give his scholarship to you, but the committee wouldn’t let him.”
The hair on my arms stands up as a disbelieving, “What?” tumbles out of my mouth.
Even after I ended things, he still tried to do that?
“Why are you telling me this?” I choke out.
It’s not like Josh to be nice out of nowhere. Especially when it comes to me and Reid.