Chapter Twelve
CHAPTER TWELVE
John Doe can hide his tracks, redact his name, but I know who he is. His green eyes and sharp jaw and the feel of his hand against parts of me I’d never let anyone touch before.
“Hey, babe.” Hunter abandons Poppy and Gabe mid-conversation to pull me in by the waist for a kiss. “Missed you this morning.”
“Missed you too,” I choke out, the words scraping their way out of me. A familiar nausea washes over me, cranked up so high the edges of the room blur. Tears gather in the corners of my eyes as I cough to cover up the scratchiness. “Can’t kick this cold.”
It should’ve been obvious. I shouldn’t have needed this many pieces of the puzzle to make out the picture. From the second he first touched me, kissed me like he owned me, I should’ve known.
He was the one who hurt her.
“Four whole hours without each other. How did they survive?” Poppy’s question is aimed at Gabe, who’s too busy scribbling notes to pay her any attention.
Charlisa’s reassurances echo in the back of my mind. I haven’t seen Hunter all morning, and if my gut is right, I won’t see him in any of my classes for the rest of the day either.
“Sucks about Mr. Benjamin,” Poppy says to me. “You could probably switch out if you want?”
And risk sharing a class with Hunter? No thanks.
I gulp down water as I take the free seat opposite Gabe and Poppy to calm my stomach. “It was my fault. I totally blanked on the reading.”
Poppy scoffs and rolls her eyes as she plucks a slice of cantaloupe from her fruit salad. “Please, no one does the break readings. He was just looking for a punching bag.”
Flashes of Solina on the couch, curled around her battered copy of The Grapes of Wrath , cloud my vision. The ache inside me pulses, a living thing. Born from the grief I’ve held in and finally let free to become the monster I know it can make me.
Only a monster can take down another monster.
“You’re fine, babe,” Hunter reassures, squeezing my shoulder. “If he tries anything again, let me know.” His smirk makes my blood run cold. I know he wouldn’t hurt a teacher like he hurt Solina, but it’s hard to ignore the strength in his grip, the cruelness in his smile, when the proof of what he’s done is burning a hole in my pocket.
In my rush to get here, I’d only had a chance to skim Izzy’s file. There wasn’t much to go off of, not like Solina’s. Just a note that she’d been referred to the campus psychologist after an “incident” with her roommate, Laura; a copy of her request for her transcripts; and most importantly, a pink Post-it note attached to an almost completely redacted document labeled Report of Misconduct. Reach out about SF incident.
Their stories don’t seem as similar as I initially thought, but it was still valuable info. Izzy knows something—enough that she’s still worth talking to if my guess that “SF incident” from the Post-it note refers to Solina’s report against Hunter. If I can find Izzy, get her to talk, maybe I’ll find the answers Solina’s file couldn’t give me.
While I may have the photos and the report and the nagging, raw feeling in my gut, I don’t have real proof. Not the kind that I need, at least. The kind that puts Hunter in Green Hills Park the night of December 20.
Proof means nothing to people like him—people who’re richer than God and act like it too. But the proof isn’t for shitheads like Cartagena. It’s for me. Sticking a knife through someone like Hunter doesn’t come without its consequences, and I’m not going down without the answers I came for.
If he’s as smart as I think he is, he knows what kind of game we’re both playing. That I shouldn’t be here, because he already got rid of me. Whether he thinks I’m her or sees right through my act, I still don’t know, but that doesn’t matter now. He’ll get rid of me either way. He’s had plenty of chances to get me alone, but maybe that’s all part of the plan. The long game. Luring me into a false sense of comfort with all those easy smiles and loving touches. As if I wouldn’t find out the truth.
I won’t let him get the final move.
“If you’re gonna get him fired, do it before the weekend. It should be illegal for him to assign this much homework the first day back. We’ve been here for, like, five seconds. Let me breathe.” Poppy gestures to the Grapes of Wrath assessment that’s due on Monday while grabbing a plastic baggie out of her purse.
She pulls a small peach-colored pill from the bag and downs it with a sip of water. The same type I found in the nook beneath Solina’s bed. My breath hitches, a question sitting on the tip of my tongue before I remember to swallow it down. I can’t go asking about something I supposedly already know. Chances are Solina got the pills from Poppy in the first place.
Maybe they’re some kind of birth control. It’s not the kind of thing you’d need to keep in a hole under your bed, but this place makes you do weird shit.
Just as quickly as I came up with the theory, Hunter reaches across the table to steal one of the pills for himself and swallows it dry. Still, I let myself breathe a shallow sigh of relief. Whatever it is, it can’t be so bad that neither of them feels concerned about taking it in the middle of a crowded room right before class.
“Just get one of the freshmen to do it,” Hunter replies offhandedly, jutting his chin toward a group two tables over. Two girls I vaguely remember passing on my way out of Kincaid this morning are hunched over their textbooks. Scholarship kids. Neither of them looks a day over fourteen.
Poppy looks over at the girls, her nose scrunched up. She mumbles something that sounds like “No thank you,” but Hunter’s voice drowns her out.
“Speaking of the weekend …” Hunter continues unprompted. His arm falls off me as he leans over to Gabe, my body lighter without the weight of his touch. His shadow stretches across Gabe’s chemistry textbook until he has no choice but to look up at Hunter with a scowl. “Are you gonna pull through tonight?”
Gabe scoffs, pulling his textbook out of Hunter’s grip to his chest. “I already told you, no.”
Hunter, naturally, doesn’t give up. “Dude, come on. It’s our last bonfire ever and you’re just gonna let it flop? Because what? You need to go study?”
“I’m not doing that shit anymore,” Gabe replies through gritted teeth.
Hunter leans across the table again, his smirk as cruel as Mr. Benjamin’s had been. I half hope Gabe’ll smack him, push him back, anything to put him in his place. “Tell me you don’t still have a stash somewhere in our room.”
The accusation is enough to shut Gabe up. He chews on his bottom lip, glancing over at Poppy, who’s too busy with her phone to give him a way out.
“I guess I can just handle it myself then, right?” Hunter teases. I hadn’t even realized they were roommates until he mentioned their room.
Hunter looks as if he’s going to leave the table, most likely to head back to their room and swipe whatever it is he’s trying to get out of Gabe. Before he can make it very far, Gabe yanks him back down by the sleeve. “Fine, I’ll go,” he mutters, so low it almost sounds like a growl.
“Knew you’d come around.” Hunter gives him a wide smile and pinches his cheek. Gabe slaps his hand away with a loud thwack.
Hunter’s arm snakes around the back of my chair, his fingers dancing along my arm and tracing mindless patterns. Every touch feels like a burn, a new cut. “Ready for the bonfire, babe?”
“For sure.” I force a smile and fight the disgust simmering beneath my skin. As much as I want to push him away, go back home, and never come back to this place again, running won’t get me what I need. I’m not leaving until I’m done with him.
“What do you think I should wear?” I ask, aiming the question more at Poppy than Hunter. It’s innocent enough and lets me focus my attention off Hunter. Anything to get a break from those piercing green eyes.
“Something you don’t care about,” Poppy replies, finally looking up from her phone. “You’re gonna get dirt in places you’ll never get it out of. Choose wisely.”
Confusion must be written all over my face, based on the way hers morphs into a look of pity only pretty, popular girls can master. “Just come over to my room tonight. Around eight. We can pregame.”
I give her a grateful smile that, for once, is genuine. That’s one less chance for Hunter to get me alone.
Hunter’s fingers stop skimming my arm, coming to rest on the side of my face. The edge of his thumb digs into my jaw, his grip on the verge of being too tight. “Don’t have too much fun without me.” He says it like a tease, but it feels like a warning, and when he kisses me, it’s impossible not to see the bruises. The cuts. The scars he left on my sister.
I can taste blood on my tongue. Smell the salt of the air by the river. Hear screams but I’m not sure whether they’re Solina’s or mine.
I give myself over to the numbness. The real me is locked somewhere dark and cold while the part of me that moved through the past two weeks without shedding a single tear takes over. The me that paid bills, cleaned tables, and fixed all the cracks in our once-perfect life. A soulless autopilot.
When we pull apart, I slide my hand into his and smile at him like he’s the only thing that matters. Because, right now, he is. And I’m going to tear him apart.