Chapter 8 Conrad
Conrad
Itold James about Malena’s idea the next day. Mostly because I was a terrible liar, but also because I needed to run this harebrained scheme by someone.
And James had always been the responsible one among us.
“No way.” James chuckled as we stopped in front of our building. “I got the sense that Hamilton was a little nuts.”
I leaned against our building’s arched doorway. Despite our hour already spent on the water, James wanted to go for a run in the nice weather. I was just as happy to go upstairs, shower, and pass out. “You think it’s funny that a reporter wants to write about Scroll & Ivy?”
Three hundred years ago when it was founded, secret societies were an actual secret.
Now, people knew they were around because it was impossible to keep things under wraps in a digital age.
There was always the occasional post about a trip or party that one of the members would upload without thinking and then promptly take down.
We tried to keep what we could contained. Which was why inviting an amateur reporter seemed like a terrible fucking idea. One that I’d agreed to.
I blamed the whiskey hangover.
“No, I think the methods she used to back you into a corner and get you to agree is funny.” He grinned.
When I didn’t say anything, James’s smile fell.
“Getting your dad out of your hair this semester and maybe spiting him if you actually win? It’s not a bad deal.
Besides, Scroll & Ivy isn’t going to bring us up on charges for breaking a measly rule. ”
He had a point. The only rule at Scroll & Ivy was that the stories stayed with it.
It was ambiguous and up for interpretation by every set of students that passed through.
Malena wasn’t planning on writing about the people, but rather the place.
And even then, it would be framed around a larger conversation about privilege. I had to admit, it was a good idea.
“You think anyone’s going to buy that she’s there in Sabrina’s place?”
“Who’s going to care enough to ask? Or press us on it if they do, knowing they’d be challenging an Alders?” James rebutted. “The incoming juniors are just happy to be there, they’re not going to jeopardize that.”
That left the fifteen of us who were seniors. “And everyone else?”
“They can be threatened or bribed,” James added glibly. “So, what’s the problem?”
Something about it all was unsettling. Maybe it was that she assumed I was the rich kid that life simply happened to. And, okay, she wasn’t wrong, but the assumption was rude.
“I guess there isn’t a real one. I’ll read what she writes beforehand.” I huffed a sigh and considered asking the other thing that was buzzing in my mind. “Do you want her around?”
“Cute, a little crazy, but mostly harmless. It could be worse,” James mused as he looked past my shoulder. “Speaking of your new shadow.”
I followed his gaze and spotted Malena, dark hair billowing around her like she was walking a runway when what she had on was a tight spandex tennis dress. Her attention was fixed on her phone and her purposeful stride made me stand up a little straighter.
The shadows from the trees she walked under streaked along the fabric, wrapping her thin frame in a moving pattern. When she finally looked up, a few steps from the ornately carved keystone entrance, her smile fell.
“Oh.” She stopped in front of us. “Hi.”
James coughed on a laugh.
“I’m going for a run.” He threw a collegial pat on my shoulder. “See you guys later.”
Malena gave James a polite wave as he took off in a slow jog. When I didn’t move, she looked around, then at me. “Do you need something?”
“We should talk about that article.”
“I don’t need your help writing it.” She waved her hand dismissively and looked back down at her phone. “You can focus on… rowing your little boat. Crew, right?”
“A fan?” I tilted my head to the side. If I was going to agree to this, which I guess I already had, the least she could do was pay attention. “And I meant ground rules.”
“Oh.” Her eyes shifted around again, to The Radiant’s empty lobby on one side and the sidewalk with the occasional pedestrian on the other. A light breeze drifted past us. “You want to talk about it here?”
“If you want to be alone with me, that’s fine too.” We probably should’ve been somewhere less public for this. But perfect-student types were always so straitlaced, I wondered if that comment might keep her attention. “You’re welcome to come up to my place.”
“Hard pass.” Her eyes swept over my shirt and lingered a moment before she blinked a couple of times and fidgeted with her fingers. “Besides, you smell.” She scrunched her nose. “Like saltwater. Have you even showered?”
A thrill whirled through me, returning every quip she served. “Another excellent reason to head to my place.”
She didn’t seem to like me, but fucking with her was fun.
“We can go to mine.” She notched her head to the side, motioning toward the elevators. She turned and walked a step ahead of me, patting the side of her bag where she’d stored her phone, as though it’d pulled a Houdini in the last five seconds. “Cora’s in her room studying, so inside voices.”
The pliant fabric of her dress hugged her hips as they gently swayed. Frustratingly beautiful, lemon scented, with a sharp wit.
She had to be some kind of karmic punishment.
Either way, I followed.
The front door to Malena’s condo thudded behind us as we stepped inside.
It was laid out pretty similarly to my own.
A kitchen island overlooked a living area with a sectional couch flanked by a couple of tall brass floor lamps.
A giant coffee table sat in the middle, with a stack of magazines on top of what looked like boxes of board games.
A view of New Harbor stretched out past the gabled windows.
“So, these rules?” A couple of steps ahead, Malena placed her bag on the marble countertop. She paused. “I’m not doing some creepy blood oath.”
“What?” My attention boomeranged back to her. “Nobody is interested in your bodily fluids.”
“Stop, you’ll make a girl blush.” She turned back around to face me, leaning against the island. “And just because we’re submitting this for the Keller Award doesn’t mean I’m splitting the prize with you. The byline is the only thing I intend to share.”
“Determined and gracious?” I drawled sarcastically. “Lucky me.”
“Snarky and overprivileged. Lucky me.”
I took a few steps closer to her. “You can keep the award money.”
All I needed was the requirement checked off for the paper. And if we won, the added benefit of seeing my dad’s face fall when I told him.
“Great.”
“No pictures. No identifying locations. You can’t take anything from any of the events. And you have to stick by my side—no running off on your own.” I waited until she gave me a curt nod before continuing. “And, most importantly, I get a final read on anything you write.”
Her eyes moved over me slowly.
“Fine.” She pushed off the counter. “But I want to attend three events.”
“One,” I countered. “Since you were already at the clock tower.”
She crossed her arms. “Three.”
“One.”
“Three.” She rose to her toes, her face inches from mine. Her voice dropped to a whisper and my pulse ratcheted up. “I could do this for hours.”
“Fine.” I tipped my head back and blew out a breath. “Two.”
She cocked a brow, waiting.
“Malena.” Frustration propelled her name out of my mouth sterner than I meant to.
Her throat bobbed, eyes widening with indignation and something else I couldn’t identify.
“Okay…” she said quietly. “Two.”
A door creaking open down the hall jostled us back to reality.
Malena seemed to remember her roommate was home and took an unsteady step back.
“Out of curiosity…” Her voice lifted like she was about to kick off another headache for me. “If I were to break one of the rules…”
This little menace was going to kill me.
And a part of me didn’t hate it.
I cleared my throat and pinned her with a warning stare. “Don’t.”
“I won’t.” She put her hands up in surrender, her lips arched at the corners. “I was just curious.”
“At each event, I am your shadow,” I stated. It felt like that rule bore repeating, but still I waited with a bizarre anticipation, wondering if she’d fight me on that one too.
“You don’t trust me?” she asked, eyes shining with mirth. Her attention was a tiny hit of dopamine every time it landed on me, and I couldn’t help but note the amusement ringing through each syllable.
“The worst imposter in history?” I cocked a brow. “Not even a little.”
Her smile fell and the muscles along her arms flexed.
Admittedly, it wasn’t the nicest thing to say, but a part of me thought we were trading barbs. “Look, I’m sorr—”
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to blend in or belong with you,” she snapped with disdain. When she looked up, emotion flared in her irises so bright it nearly cast a glare. “Are we done here?”
“Yeah…” I thought back through what I said, every word coming under rapid-fire review. I took a step back, and with a curt wave, I turned. “Next weekend is the next event.”