So Not Happening (33 page)

Jake's arm settles on the back of my chair. “We're great. Thought we'd have some breakfast together before we all went our separate ways for the day. Sit down and have some coffee.”

“Nah.” His eyes jump—like he wants to look at Dolly. “Saw the house yesterday. Not good, but could be a lot worse.”

My stepdad's hand rests on my shoulder, and he gives it a small squeeze. “Nothing that can't be replaced. This is our hero right here.”

I nearly choke on my bacon.

“You've got yourself a brave girl all right,” Mickey says.

“That we do.” Jake nods his blond head. “Couldn't be more proud. And blessed.”

Even though I've just inhaled ten pounds of waffles, I suddenly feel a hundred pounds lighter. I'm forgiven. Jake doesn't hate me for nearly burning the house down. No grudge. His words thrill my heart, and it's everything I can do not to jump on this table and belt out a happy tune—
High School
Musical-style.

“Nothing's more important than family. The rest is just stuff.” Mickey's gaze aims straight at his ex-wife this time. “Only a fool would forget that.”

“You gonna start coming in my diner and spouting off like a fortune cookie on a regular basis?” Dolly pops her gum. “'Cause I don't think my gag reflexes are that strong.”

Mickey pulls up a chair and sits himself down. His eyes flash fire. And a challenge. “Maybe.” He tucks a napkin into his collar. “Yep, maybe I am.”

As I sit here in the dark, staring at the rows of gravestones and waiting for Jared to meet me, I picture Luke and what he must be doing right now. He's at Zach Epps's with Kelsey, and they're digging through dresser drawers. Then they move to his computer. Because life is kinder to him, Luke finds a Word file called “Everything You Could Possibly Want to Know About the Brotherhood.” He immediately prints it and takes it to the authorities. They are probably minutes away from naming a street after him and declaring it National Luke Sullivan Day.

Tonight I'm ditching Jared and trailing the Brotherhood like paparazzi on Britney Spears. I've got my camera in my purse and fully intend to do whatever it takes to get my own video for the police and pictures for
my
article.

His headlights spotlight my car, and I step out and wave. “I know the drill,” I say when he opens his car door, and I hold out my hand for the blindfold.

Jared takes a swig from a giant water bottle. “My car's acting up. Mind if we take yours?”

I quirk an eyebrow. “What? You're going to let me see how to get to the mystery party location?”

He grins and ducks his head. “You know I can't. Rules are rules. But I thought... maybe I could drive your car?”

I tap my finger to my lip and consider this. If anything were to happen to the Bug, I would be in the passenger side of Budge's hearse again. Not a comforting thought.

“I promise I'll be careful with it. Come on.” He wiggles his fingers for the keys. “You can trust me.”

“Fine.”

He spins me around and covers my eyes with a red paisley bandanna. This part always creeps me out a bit. Maybe this will be the last party I have to attend. No more rendezvous in cemeteries, blind drives to the lake, or staying out past curfew and getting myself grounded 'til I'm old enough to need Miss Clairol.

“Tell me about Coach Lambourn and Coach Dallas,” I say a few minutes down the road. “What's it like playing for your stepdad and his son?”

I hear Jared snort. “Unbearable.”

“They seem to put a lot of pressure on the team—especially on you.”

“Yeah.” He taps his hands on the wheel to the song on the radio, and I think he's not going to elaborate. “My stepdad doesn't even see me. I'm just a means to a win. I'm not even a real person, just a player. We all are.”

I throw out some bait. “From watching practice, I get the idea your stepbrother would do
anything to
recapture the former Truman glory. He seems ...” I pretend to search for a word.
“Desperate
for a win.”

“I guess we all are.”

Sometime later the car slows then finally stops. Jared continues his tapping on the wheel though the radio is silent.

“Here we are.” His sigh drags out. “Sit tight, and I'll be around to get you.”

Warm air replaces the air-conditioning as he gets out and opens my door.

“Where's the party music?” Normally you can hear the bass a good thirty seconds away. But tonight it's quiet. “Are you sure there's a party tonight?”

“Yeah.” He pulls me out of the passenger seat, his hands gentle on my arms. “No, don't take your blindfold off yet. I, um, have a surprise for you.”

A surprise?” A smile curves my lips. “Interesting.” But time consuming! I need to be where the party action is so I can investigate and get some hard evidence.
Before
Luke does.

“Ready? Watch your step.” I hear the grass crunch beneath my feet as he leads me forward. “Not much further.” A door opens, then light filters through the blindfold. “I'm just going to sit you down here.” A chair scrapes the floor, then he's guiding me into it. My hands rest on a table in front of me.

“Uh, Jared, if I break my curfew again, I'll never be let out of the house. The rest of the party crowd will be here soon, right?”

The covering over my eyes falls away, and I blink against the light. The familiar living room of the lake cabin is the first thing to come into focus.

A shiny black handgun is the second.

“You won't be joining the party tonight.” Jared Campbell stands in front of me, his trembling hands clutching the pistol.

Are you insane?” I leap up from my chair, only to be shoved back down. I'm instantly reminded of the sheer strength in this athlete. “Jared, what are you doing? Put that thing down.”

“I'm gonna have to ask you to stay right where you are.”

My heart shudders to a stop. “Why are you doing this?” So confused. Mind reeling. Have to get out of here.

“You couldn't leave it alone, could you?”

I shake my head, bewildered and dazed. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“The Brotherhood. I tried to warn you, but you wouldn't take the hint—getting Kelsey Anderson all stirred up again.”

Something falls into place in my mind. “The fire. That was you, wasn't it? Did you break into my house?”

He takes a step back, the gun still aimed right at my heart. “I thought maybe it would scare you into going back to New York. I wish it had. I wanted it to. I didn't want it to come to this.”

I can't breathe in here. Can't think. “You could've
killed
me.
And
my stepbrother. How could you do that?”

He slams one hand on the table, and I want to bounce out of my skin. “I didn't want to! Don't you understand? Doesn't anybody understand me?”

“I can't understand anything when you've got a gun aimed at me!” I scream back. No, I have to stay calm. He's only growing more agitated. I have to calm us both down. “Tell me what this is about, Jared. I deserve to know.” Seeing how I'm going to die for it and all.

“I know you went to Tulsa to meet with Reggie Lee. I know you talked to his girlfriend.”

“How could you know that?”

He shrugs. “Brittany Taylor. She may be annoying, but she's useful. She's been following you around for weeks.”

Okay, that girl is just evil. “You and your boys planted drugs in Reggie's locker, didn't you?” Empty eyes stare back at me in response. “Why?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “Because he was going to talk. We'd promised—we'd
all
promised.”

“Promised what?”

“That no one would ever know about the Brotherhood. But...” His Adam's apple bobs. “Things went wrong last year. It got to Reggie.”

“I know about the night Zach Epps had the wreck.” Nothing like going out with a lie on your lips.

Sweat bubbles at Jared's temple. “It was a horrible night.” He shakes his head. He's there. “We had the initiation for Reggie and Zach all set up. Then the storm came. But there was no turning back—that's our way.”

And it's worked so well for you too.

“So Reggie and Zach raced each other.” I fill in the blanks. “And Zach lost control.”

“We had to keep it quiet. They could never know that we had been there, had been a part of that. We all agreed, just like when we lost Carson Penturf. But Reggie buckled. He came to me at the beginning of school, told me he had to go to the police and come clean. But you can't go against the Brotherhood.”

“So you planted the drugs in his locker, knowing it would get him suspended and end any chances of a college scholarship.”

“It was a warning. And it worked. He didn't want to risk jail any more than the rest of us.”

And Carson?” I can't peel my eyes away from the gun. “He didn't really commit suicide, did he?”

“We decided his challenge was to climb down a cliff in the dark—no tools, no flashlight. Nothing but his bare hands.” His eyes swim with pain. “He was halfway there. Then his foot slipped and he fell.”

“What if you had gone and gotten help? What if he could've been saved? Who gave you the right to play God to these people?

They were your friends.”

“Shut up! You think I don't know that?” His wild eyes scare me.

“Jared, it's not too late to turn back. You've been pressured by Coach Dallas. It's gotten to you. I think we should go to the police-together—and talk to them. Tell them what your stepbrother has driven you to do.”

“Dallas?”

“The parties? The initiations? I know this is his lake house.”

Jared snorts. “He doesn't even know we use this. He's too busy with his girlfriend in Tulsa and blaming me for every mistake the team makes.”

“He forced you to start the Brotherhood again so—so the team would win again like they did when he was in school and he could keep his job.”

“I am so sick of hearing about his winning streak! Who cares?” he yells. “I've done everything—everything! I've trained, I've watched game films, I've done anything I could think of to make myself better. It's never going to be enough.”

My brain clears like I've been doused in ice water. I've been so blind. It's
been Jared all along.
“Your brother knows nothing about your new little boys' club.”

“And he's not
going
to know. The Brotherhood will go on as we are—a new breed of players. We will grow closer and stronger.”

“And deader!” Okay, that's not a word, but grammar is the least of my concerns. “This is crazy. It has to stop now. All of it. You have to come clean.”
And put the gun down while you're at it.

“I liked you, Bella. I really did.”

Did? Past tense?

Walking backwards, he goes to the coffee table, opens a small drawer, and pulls out a pen and paper. He places them in front of me.

“You're going to write.”

“For some reason I really don't feel all that inspired at the moment.”

He ignores me. “You're going to compose a suicide letter to your mom.”

“What?” I squeal. “I would
never
take my own life! Nobody would believe that in a million years. Look, I won't say a word about the Brotherhood.” At least not while an unsteady weapon is in my face. “Just drop the gun. This isn't worth it. What's happened so far have been accidents. What you're doing now? Um, yeah, that's called murder. And I don't think your stepdaddy's going to be too happy that his star player has to miss a game because he's in the big house for shooting someone.”

“Don't sit there and judge me. You don't know what it's like living with my stepdad and his wonder child.”

And how does asking your friends to bungee jump in front of trains and shooting me fix any of that? Honestly, your little group is the dumbest thing I've ever heard of. Couldn't you get your boys to bond over something a little safer—like a campout or . . . some Guitar Hero?”

Jared wrenches my arm, his face contorted in rage. “Shut up! Nothing is going to get in my way!”

“Okay.” I hold up my hands and slowly ease out of his grip and press myself into the back of the chair, wishing I could disappear into it. God,
I need some serious help here. What do I do? If there's a
verse on dealing with psychopaths, I seem to have forgotten it. Totally
need some guidance right now.

“I've never been good enough for my stepdad. Can't ever measure up to Dallas. Well, I'm sick of being the loser. Our team's going to state this year. I
will
get a scholarship to play football, and then I'll leave this town and never look back.”

I try for a softer approach. “I know it's been rough. I can't imagine what you've gone—”

My phone blasts in my pocket—the song I have programmed for Luke.

“Don't touch it!”

Think!
“I... It's Luke Sullivan. I've been, um, seeing him.”

Jared picks up the phone. “The theme from Jaws?”

“Yeah, we're going through a rough patch.” I swallow. “This is the time he calls every night, and if I don't get it, he'll send out a search party. He'll know something's wrong.” The phone continues to sing, and I feel my chance slipping through my fingers. “My step-dad's a wrestler. Do you really want him tracking me down right now?”

“Turn it on speaker. And get rid of him.” He jerks the gun toward my cell. “Tell him you're okay. If you say one word, Bella, I will use this thing.”