Chapter Thirty-Six. Clara
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CLARA
I IMMEDIATELY SECOND-GUESS EVERYTHING I put in the doc when Reid’s eyes land on mine across the room. Did I reveal too much about him? Everyone?
I had convinced myself even if it upset some people, even if it upset him, this was the right move. Stories that rattle are the ones that matter most. They’re the ones I want to tell.
But they all have real futures on the line. Their families, colleges, fancy coaches. And given the stress of the weekend and everything Reid’s going through, I might have gone too far. I might have been too shortsighted.
The doc ends and, to my shock, the applause is loud, and some grins are wide.
Especially from my friends and their families.
Sure, there are several people who look aggrieved.
Principal West looks like his bright red head is going to combust. That’s to be expected.
Yet the overwhelming consensus is positive.
Though, in the sea of varied expressions turned toward me, Reid’s remains indecipherable. I wish I could pull him away where we could be alone. To explain.
But a profusely sweating West gets up on the stage.
The feedback from the mic screeches through the speakers, enhancing the awkward, lingering silence while West adjusts his necktie and looks out at the crowd. “Well, I’m a bit lost for words.” His glare lands squarely on me, and my returning smile is false as my stomach churns.
A chair scrapes across the hardwood floor as Reid stands and stares at West. He doesn’t speak but several people look to him.
“I’m not sure we have time for your speech now, Mr. Rousseau,” West says grimly. Clearly upset with how honest Reid was in his interview.
But Reid isn’t deterred. He starts to walk to the stage, his steps slow and careful. The applause that follows is confused, scattered. Everyone unsure what to think about their Golden Boy now.
He walks up the steps, and, having forced his hand, West gives the mic to Reid.
Reid turns toward the crowd, his black eye and bruises muted by the soft light in the room. He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t charm. He puts a hand in his pocket, and stares ahead bearing a thoughtful expression. But when he starts speaking, we can’t hear him.
Which is exactly how we planned it.
There’s a rumbling through the crowd and someone shouts, “Mic’s not working!”
Logan huffs out a frustrated sigh and jumps to his feet.
He charges toward the stage as I hoped he would to adjust it, and I grab his phone quickly from the table.
My heart is pounding hard at the remote look on Reid’s face.
At the seconds I have to use the passcode I saw Logan put in and get the proof we need.
I do.
With a prepped draft no less. Nothing like a little intel from his ex-boyfriend to know that Logan was meticulous about preparing his social media posts. A sickening wave of disgust goes through me seeing them all.
Seeing that he really is Legacy Lore.
But I can’t linger. I hit publish on the draft that includes a screenshot of a text conversation between Logan and Nicole about the video of me and Josh; all identifying information about himself is blacked out.
I have mere seconds, but I can’t help but scroll through the DMs. My heart pounding harder at the dozens of messages. Mostly from current Woodhurst students sharing gossip from this year’s Legacy hopefuls.
He’s going to keep doing this even after this weekend?
Then this better work.
I tap on the necessary settings and after I unplug my laptop from the projector, I gently return the phone and nod at Reid. Logan’s checking wires when Reid turns the mic back on.
“Oh, there we go,” he says, his deep voice amplified through the space. “Guess it wasn’t on.”
Logan throws his hands up, rolling his eyes.
Reid turns toward the crowd again. “Hi, everyone. I’ll keep this brief since I know you may not want to hear from me after what you saw in that video. You had a perception of me, of all of us Legacies, and I can guess that this video might have changed that.”
He pauses. I try to swallow the knot in my throat as he looks at me, holding my gaze a beat. The crowd hangs on his silence as much as his words. Because as shy as he is, as low as he feels, and as hard on himself as he may be, he’s dazzling. He always has been.
“All of us work hard to be exemplary. To represent Woodhurst well and do you proud. But what you just saw is the ugly truth. Legacy has driven us—all of us—to the point of breaking.”
He lets the stunned silence sit a moment before he continues.
I look over at Principal West and several alumni, who are all members of the selection committee, talking heatedly. They keep looking between Reid on the stage and me, as if trying to decide what to do.
I remind myself I’m no longer their student. West already paid me for the work. I made the doc I wanted to make for me, for Woodhurst and my friends. For Reid.
Whose eyes lock with mine at that exact moment, color high on his cheeks. I can see there’s a flood of words he wants to say, but based on his stony expression I can’t tell if they’re good or bad. I get my answer when he goes rogue a second later.
“I’d like you all to pull out your phones and search for a social media account called Legacy Lore.”
My entire body tenses. What?
What is he doing?
This wasn’t the plan. But he nods to the crowd, and in the next moment, everyone in the room has their phones out. The hum of shocked, whispered conversation rises as they read through the posts.
Though I do note there are several people who don’t look scandalized. They’re probably the ones who have been commenting on the posts and saying things they never would to our faces.
But all I can truly focus on is Reid.
The entire town now knows about his injury, his grades—everything.
But he doesn’t return my imploring look.
Instead he says to the crowd, “This is what the program has become. Threats. Backstabbing. Humiliation. Betrayal. Using what we’re going through against each other.
All for your approval. And I’m no exception.
” He shakes his head. “This program could be what it claims to be, but this is what it really is.”
Our eyes meet again, and though my astonishment shifts to pride as I watch him claim everything he’s tried to hide, I’m still not sure if he’s angry with me or not.
I played a part in forcing his truth out. And he could, and maybe even should, resent me for that.
He looks away and faces the larger crowd again. “Before you donate or move here or submit an application to be a Legacy yourself, please think about whether this program is something you want to be part of, or something you’d like to change.”
Just as Reid hops off the stage, a high-pitched exclamation pierces from the center of the room. “What?”
Every eye goes to Nicole as she stands up, turns on her heel, and comes charging toward the AV table.
Here we go.
“I knew it was you,” she accuses. “You’re Legacy Lore.”
Both Logan’s and my head whip to her at the exact same time.
But Nicole is staring at me. Just like I knew she would.
“What are you talking about?”
She waves her phone in my face. “This one that just went up about me proves it.”
Logan’s brow furrows, and he discreetly pulls out his own phone, blinking down at the screen. A small group forms around us including my friends, Reid, Josh, Amaya, Coach Rousseau, and my mom.
Principal West storms over seething. “Can we not have one event go smoothly this weekend?”
But Nicole doesn’t seem to notice or care about the disruption she’s causing. She looks around at the group and straightens her shoulders. “All that stuff you said about not humiliating me was total crap.”
“We all know you’re the one behind the posts, Clara, just admit it,” Amaya says, backing Nicole. “You’re bitter about what happened at the assembly even though you deserved it, and you’re always following us around with your camera.”
Even though I saw her rage texts and I had suspected her of being capable of the Legacy Lore posts all weekend, my mouth still drops open in genuine shock.
In all my interviews with Amaya, every time we talked, she was kind to me.
I didn’t realize her being a good actress meant she was being so fake to my face.
Delaney and I exchange a look when she briefly glances up from her phone.
“You literally just saw why I follow you all around with a camera,” I shoot back.
Principal West is rubbing his temples as Nicole appeals to him. “She’s lying. Clara is the one doing this.” She gestures around the room to everyone holding their phones. “Trying to get us to lose our scholarships and ruin everything.”
Logan’s eyes widen a touch. But I see something else, too. Irritation. He doesn’t like that I’m getting the credit.
“Why would she do that?” West asks, exasperated.
“Isn’t it obvious?” I goad.
“Revenge,” Nicole spits out first. She stares at the camera slung over my shoulder, thinking I have proof of her confession, in addition to the Legacy Lore post everyone has now read. Backed into a corner, she says, “I knew you’d try to get me back for showing that video at last year’s assembly.”
Nicole’s accusation—and admission—carries across the entire lodge.
Reid reaches for my hand and squeezes. I stare at it a beat, wondering if it’s friendly, protective, or means what I want more than anything in the world for it to mean.
My mom turns to Principal West, speaking for the first time. “She’ll be disqualified, right?”
West holds up his hands as if telling her to slow down.
“Don’t try to placate me, Ryan. It’s only fair,” Mom insists. “Nicole just admitted to sabotaging Clara, and based on the terms and standards we all have had to accept over the years, it’s only right that she should lose her spot as a Legacy, too.”
“If I lose my scholarship so should Reid, since they filmed me talking about it without me knowing. It’s the exact same thing,” Nicole says with a triumphant jut of her chin.