"So, obviously Rosterford still has the pages." Carlisle crossed her arms and tried to keep herself steady as she stood up, the canoe swaying under her. "We need to get them back. Any suggestions on how to do so?"
Carlisle had called an emergency meeting to our canoe at eight in the morning. We didn't have classes today, so we were all pretty peeved that we had to get up early.
"We steal them?" Aspen offered, her suggestion sounding more like a question than a statement.
"Elaborate."
"There's a Beaumont basketball game tonight. Rosterford goes to every game, so we could sneak in his room and steal them then."
"Marisol and I have a study session with Mrs. Peterson for a literary English test tomorrow," I said, pointing to Marisol. She nodded in agreement.
"No problem," Aspen said. "Lindsay, Carlisle, and I can do it."
"Do you have the key to his room?" I asked.
Aspen's face fell and she shook her head. "That would be helpful."
"I know how to pick locks," Lindsay piped up. When we all shot her a confused glance, she said, "Do you remember when I dated that super sketchy guy a few years ago? Brandon? Well, he taught me a thing or two."
"Do you still remember how to if it's been years?" Carlisle asked her.
"It should be like riding a bike."
"We'll go in at eight-thirty. He should be out by then," Aspen said. "Group text message. We'll let you know when we get in."
"Sounds good," Marisol replied. "Now that that's settled, let's go back to the dorms. I'm hungry and I heard they're serving french toast sticks for breakfast."
~~~
Three months.
Three months until I'd be completely done with school, only to go to another school that I'd have to pay an insane amount of money to attend. Three months until I'd be able to actually feel like an adult. Three months until Tatum and I would have to decide whether we should break up or not when we go separate paths for college. Three months until I would have to tell all my friends in Boston goodbye and probably never see them again. Poor Ivy. She'd never get to graduate or go to college.
"Are you even listening?" Tatum asked, tilting his head to the side. He twirled a coffee stirrer with the word "Serenity" printed on it around the fingers on his right hand as he waited for me to reply.
"Uh," I ran a hand through my hair and tried to pay attention, "yeah."
"What was I talking about?"
Honestly, I had no idea. Lately, it was hard for me to focus on anything. Maybe it was end-of-the-school-year jitters or just plain nervousness ever since Ivy's death and my knowledge about Headmaster Rosterford, but I'd find myself trailing off more and more and getting distracted easily. As a result, Tatum and I hadn't had an actual conversation in a while, and my grade in English was suffering quite a bit. I had my study session with Marisol and Mrs. Peterson in less than half an hour.
When I shrugged, Tatum sighed and leaned back in his chair. "What is with you, Kayleigh?"
Although I knew precisely what he was talking about, I said, "What do you mean?"
"You've been acting so distant lately. I feel like you're pushing me away. Even though I don't know what it's about—"
"My friend died, Tatum."
"That was two months ago. It's unhealthy for you to be so focused on it."
I rolled my eyes and lifted my eyebrows. "Don't tell me what is and isn't healthy. You haven't got the slightest clue."
"I was friends with Ivy too, in case you've forgotten," he pointed out. "But you're with me. So why does it seem like our relationship is the very last thing on your mind?"
Probably because it was the last thing on my mind. Yeah, I loved Tatum. I really did. And I knew he loved me back, which was probably why I knew that he could be the one constant in my life, the one thing I knew would always be there for me.
I glanced down at my wrinkled napkin, which was also labeled with "Serenity", and didn't say a single word. Tatum always just got me. I never really had to explain myself around him, because he'd always understand.
"How about this," he began, reaching for one of my hands from across the table. "You can ask me any question you want to know about me. Don't hold back, I'll be completely honest."
"What's the catch?"
"You need to tell me what's going on," he said. "I know you aren't telling me the truth. A secret for a secret."
It seemed like a fair trade, but there was no way I'd be able to tell him about Rosterford. He'd probably go to the police, with or without me, but there was one thing I always wanted to know about him. I could make up something about what's going on, maybe trouble with my parents or grades that have been stressing me out. "Alright."
"Okay. Shoot away."
I took a deep breath and looked straight into Tatum's eyes. "Why were you in jail?"
He pursed his lips together and looked away, obviously not expecting this to be what I asked. He pushed his shaggy dark hair away from his eyes. "How'd you know?" he asked softly.
"I'm friends with Marisol, Aspen, Carlisle, and Lindsay. Of course they told me."
Tatum's fingers drummed against the cafe table. "It's a long story."
I checked my watch. Fifteen minutes until the session. "I've got time."
He nodded, knowing that I would keep pressing until he told me why. "A couple years ago, I was walking from the dorms at Pentry to the lake. It was pretty dark outside. At the time, I was having a lot of family problems and then Lysander and I had this huge argument about God knows what, so I needed some time alone to think. When I got there, I heard some muffled shouting and gasping. It was over by Beaumont, so I walked there to investigate. By some bushes, I saw this girl named Jenine, all bloody and bruised, getting beat by Warren van Gerald.
"They had been dating at the time. Apparently, they were completely in love. I knew she had a few pregnancy scares and things like that. But when I saw Warren beating the shit out of her, I just felt my blood boil. For some reason, I could really feel for her. He didn't see me coming, and I just slammed a right hook into his temple. He wasn't knocked out, but quite weak, and he tried to fight me off, but I just couldn't stop. I took it too far, I'm willing to admit that. The police eventually came and Warren blamed the whole thing on me."
"Why didn't you tell them it was Warren?" I asked.
"I was a pretty bad person at the time. Alcohol and weed were hidden throughout my entire dorm room, and Warren threatened to tell them if I didn't take the blame. I didn't want my parents to know, so I was arrested for assault." His eyes shifted down toward the table and he traced a water ring on the table with his finger. "I'm not a bad guy, really. I just shouldn't have gotten into a fight that didn't involve me."
"You could've saved her life," I told him. He looked up at me, his eyes softening. "You did the right thing."
"You think so?"
"Yeah," I answered, shooting him a smile. "I do."
"So," he said, taking in a deep breath and releasing it loudly, "it's your turn to share."
Just as he said that, my phone buzzed. A message from Marisol. Mrs. Peterson and I are waiting for you, it said. Hurry up.
"Actually," I said, sliding my phone into my purse and placing it on my shoulder, "I have to go. Marisol and Mrs. Peterson are waiting for me. I'm supposed to meet them for a study session for this huge English test tomorrow." I kissed his cheek as he looked up at me with disappointment in his eyes. "I love you."
"Love you, too," he said sadly, pulling out his wallet to pay for our drinks at Serenity.
Although I wanted to stay with him, I pushed open the front door, listening to the bell sound as I began to walk back to Beaumont.