Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Elizabeth Housman
I’m avoiding him.
It’s the only sane thing to do in this situation. I keep Henry and Amy close, skirting all the places I know he goes during the day.
But by midday, Henry picks up on it. “Biz, what did Aaron do now?”
“Who?” I nearly fumble my soda.
Henry rolls his eyes with a humorless chuckle. “Spare me the act, Biz. Fess up. What did the grand ass do now?”
There’s no torture known to man that could compel me to tell them.
I change the subject. “The Divinities painting is in the chapel. The one from Rockefeller’s private collection. Do you want to see it?”
Neither Amy nor Henry seem impressed by the news or the idea, but they follow me to the unlocked balcony anyway.
“Very religious looking,” Amy says, adjusting her glasses. “Very churchy indeed.”
“It’s lovely, although I like the waterfall painting you did more.” Henry squints at it and shrugs.
When I say that I’ve been obsessed with this painting since I saw it as a child in a coffee table book my aunt had, I’m not kidding.
I’ve committed to memory everything from the light through the clouds to the way it reflects off the flowing white garments.
I wanted to paint and draw because of the way the painting made me feel.
That’s why I’m dumbstruck right now, my mouth dropping open in a gasp.
“Biz? What is it?” Amy asks before following my gaze to the painting. “Oh, is it the scuff mark on the frame? I bet they could buff it out.”
That’s not the original.
It’s been replaced with a fake.
I’m certain of it. The original frame was flawless, but the painting is what gives it away. I’ve studied it enough to know that the hand reaching out is wrong. The light no longer stretches across the entire scene. Even the belt is the wrong shade.
This isn’t the painting Eric and I saw last week.
“I-It’s not The Divinities,” I say quietly. “Someone replaced it.”
Henry shakes his head. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m telling you, that’s not the real painting.”
“Biz, come on. Are you sure? Like Henry said, what would the point of that be?”
“It’s worth… God, it’s worth millions. That’s one reason.” It’s not just that someone replaced the original with this fake. It’s the growing sense of uncertainty. Will someone think I was involved in this? The fanatic artsy girl who made off with Rockefeller’s pride and joy?
I feel sick.
“Okay, so you’re telling me some genius put a Rockefeller painting in an unsecured private college, one worth that much money? That makes me think it’s always been a likeness, not the real one,” Henry reasons.
My knees buckle, and I sit on the rolled carpet as panic sets in. Maybe the estate thought it was safe among their carefully selected students. Maybe because the chapel is technically off-limits, they didn’t think security was needed. Maybe… just maybe I’m losing my mind.
I get back up, determined to have a closer look. “I’m climbing down,” I declare to my wide-eyed friends.
“Uh, the hell you are, Biz.” Henry stands taller, his arms crossed over his chest. “We’re too high up.”
“Yeah, you’re not breaking your neck on our watch, Bizzy.” Amy steps in front of me. “Let’s try getting in from downstairs.”
Henry shoots her a look before elbowing her. “No, not downstairs either. Tell one of the Regents what you suspect, but we’re already breaking the law by trespassing in here.”
They follow me to the chapel entrance on the first floor, bickering back and forth about letting me do this.
Letting me… ha. Try and stop me.
Luckily, not much foot traffic comes down this corridor during the day, especially with the chapel closed. I try the doors, but they’re locked tight.
“There’s a basement, right? Maybe we can get inside through those doors.”
Henry groans. “No, Biz. That’s for faculty only.”
We spend fifteen minutes going back and forth. He really doesn’t want me to get in trouble, but he doesn’t understand what this means to me. I have to finally act like I’ve given up when one of the Regents sees us. We hastily take our disagreement outside.
Just my luck, Aaron is steps away from us when we exit the doors. “Why do you all look guilty of something?” he asks. “Stealing test answers, or are you three stooges responsible for the cherry bombs in the Regents’ restroom?”
So back to being a jerk, I see.
Yeah, this is super... he’s completely unbothered, which bodes well for me. He’s back to being a holy terror.
With a stiff smile, I respond, “Nobody asked for your attitude.”
“It’s complimentary.” He’s delighting in how uncomfortable I am. Dickhead.
Henry inserts himself. “We were seeing if the chapel was open yet.” He continues talking about the construction in a suspicious way, the kind that makes both Amy and I side-eye him. Did he just string three construction terms together that made no sense?
With his eyes narrowing, Aaron waves his hand. “I need you to stop. I don’t give a fuck about any of that.”
“Perfect. We’ll just be going.” I grab both their hands and drag them away from Aaron and his cocky, sexy-ass face. Ugh.
I have every intention of exploring later to find a way into the chapel. If that means sneaking down to the basement myself, I’ll do it.