Hero Complex (18 page)

Now, sitting at the large table in the faculty conference room, she realized that it might be her turn. No doubt she’d been the focal point of whispered gossip over dinner. Just knowing that made her cheeks burn and her palms sweat. But of course she could live with that. Who was she kidding? It was the row of grim faces—including Headmaster Wyler and Dr. Hsu—staring her down that was too much.

Headmaster Wyler was still working his way through the litany of Devon’s wrongdoings. He’d been prattling on for over ten minutes.

“Bodhi Elliot had been explicitly banned from the Keaton campus. And yet you consort with him on grounds where you are forbidden to go. All this after your continued reticence to adhere to the Keaton rulebook. Frankly, I’m disappointed in you, Devon. I thought we were working together.” Headmaster Wyler pressed his palms flat on the table and nodded at Devon. She didn’t know if she was supposed to say anything, but she knew it was too late for excuses.

“Now, I think given your past probationary status in addition to today’s incident, a two-week suspension seems appropriate.”

The edges of Devon’s vision started to go fuzzy, like a dark room closing in on all sides. She hoped she wouldn’t faint right here.

He cleared his throat. “We also received a call this week about your scholarship. It seems that your benefactor has had to withdraw your funding. These two incidents are unrelated, but we are inclined to send you home for the suspension, during which time we’ll try to find other means to reinstate your financial assistance for your return. But keep in mind that, given your current record, it might be harder than we originally anticipated. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

Devon’s eyes burned into his. “My scholarship was pulled? By who? I mean, whom? Don’t I have a right to know?” She turned to Dr. Hsu, who looked sheepish. “So, okay. I’m suspended, fine. I get that. I know what I did was wrong. No one seems interested in
why
I was down at the Palace, but whatever, you probably wouldn’t believe me, anyways. But I’m just supposed to go home and hope what? That somebody somewhere magically steps in to pay for the rest of my semester? For next year?”

The blackness around Devon’s vision had turned into white, searing light. Fear transformed to fury. While the school was
clinging to its rulebook, her whole life was getting rearranged, and no one seemed to care.

Headmaster Wyler straightened his papers. Then other faculty members began to leave as well. Only Dr. Hsu remained still. “Your mom will be waiting for you in your dorm,” Headmaster Wyler concluded. “We think it’s best if you leave tonight. And Devon, we want you back here, but only in the best circumstances for everyone.” He gave her a begrudging close-mouthed smile. Devon had seen that smile enough to know it was purely for show.

“So that’s it? I’m done?” Devon stood up before they could answer. Dr. Hsu remained in her seat, her eyes fixed on the tabletop. “Thanks for keeping our sessions confidential, Doc.”

With that, she stormed out and started running. She kept to the shadows. The light rain felt good on her burning cheeks. Her mom’s car was in the parking lot below Bay House, and the light was on inside her room. No doubt her mom had packed a bag for her already, probably with Presley’s help. Poor Presley. Devon had ruined her spring break college tour.

She stepped on the gravel pathway leading around to the side entrance of Bay House. The crunch of the gravel against the silence of campus made her stop. Whoever had assaulted Raven at the Palace had probably come back through campus this way. Maybe there was …

Devon sighed; what was she doing? She was hardly going to start looking for footprints moments after getting kicked out of Keaton.
Stop it, Devon. You have to stop obsessing
.

She turned her face up to the night sky and let the drizzle land on her face, her hair, and her jacket as if it could cool her simmering thoughts. With one last deep breath, Devon steeled herself to face her mom. She reached for the door, and that’s when she spotted the Keaton baseball hat perfectly perched on the hedge next to her dorm doorway.

When she woke up in her own bed in her own house the next morning, Devon had to remind herself what had happened at school last night. She hoped she could put off facing the reality of today for at least another hour. Maybe if she was quiet in bed, her mom wouldn’t bug her. She dug Reed’s diary out from her backpack.

Devon couldn’t read any more. Apparently things were crappy in the past, too. Keaton’s wife was just taken in the middle of the night like that? No trial, no arrest, no warning, even? It was hard to believe that all happened on the Keaton hillside while Reed had lived there.

Downstairs she heard the front door close, followed by her mom’s car starting.
Time to get up and figure out the rest of your life
, she thought.

First and foremost, would she have a life? How the hell would she get this stalker situation under control? Eli on the boat, the stranger in Berkeley, and now someone at Keaton—they all had to come from the same source. And it would be safe to assume that this source knew that Devon was back in Berkeley now.

She eyed the Keaton baseball hat she had shoved into her backpack last night. A guy wearing this hat—that’s all she had to go on to help Raven. Even inspecting the inside lining yielded no helpful results. A single strand of hair would have been helpful, but Devon was no CSI expert. Now that she wasn’t on campus, her ability to check on Oz’s alibi was limited. And asking Cleo invasive questions probably wouldn’t be appreciated.

Who knew what Cleo even thought of her anymore? Maybe Devon had been relegated to the past, disappeared like Hana, another Keaton tragedy that would be swept away and forgotten.

What happened when people started over at a new school mid-year?

Actually, that was a good thought. She knew someone who’d started over: Oz.

S
T
. M
ATTHEWS HAD A
similar kind of reputation and vibe as The Keaton School, the same wealth and connections. Except here in the city, the students wore stiff uniforms and went home every night. They also prayed in chapel, apparently.

Devon waited outside the school gates as the final bell rang at three o’clock. The campus was more compact and homogeneous than Keaton: clean white Spanish stucco, red tiled roofs, the parking lot packed with gleaming high-end cars.
Ah, another day for San Francisco’s elite
. Devon tried to quell her resentment and focus.

She didn’t know exactly who she was looking for, but she knew Cleo had old friends here, friends who probably knew Oz as well. If she could find the most fashion-conscious junior in the group of uniforms, she might get lucky …

Younger kids, freshmen, were the first to hurry past. The older kids were walking slower, talking in groups as they went. Most gave her a quick once-over, the interloper in their tightly knit system.

Maybe it was time for Plan B. Devon put the Keaton baseball cap on her head. The once-overs turned to slight smiles from a few
passing students. One girl, tall and painfully skinny with peroxideblonde hair, stopped and raised an eyebrow. “You go to Keaton? I know some kids there.”

“Oh, cool. I was hoping to run into someone—”

“Slow down, Chatty Cathy.” The girl tossed her chin in the direction of the parking lot. “Lemme get off campus first. I need a cigarette. Fucking mid-terms.”

Devon bit her tongue and followed the girl to the parking lot. The girl’s hands shook slightly as she unlocked her cherry-red Prius. She sat in the driver’s seat, door still open, and lit a smoke from her glove compartment.

“This is considered off campus?” Devon asked nervously.

The girl smirked. She exhaled out of the corner of her mouth, away from Devon. “Close enough. Who you looking for? I’m Mattie, by the way.” She extended a hand, now steady. “Sorry if I was rude before. Jonesing.”

Devon offered a forgiving smile. “No worries. You don’t know Cleo Lambert by any chance, do you?”

Mattie exhaled quickly, her face lighting up. “Hell, yes! We went to middle school together before I came to this shit-hole. You friends with her at Keaton?”

“Yeah, except … Well, when was the last time you spoke to her?”

Mattie shrugged. “Don’t know. We texted a month or so back. Reminded me you guys got Oz.” She wriggled her eyebrows. “How’s that working out?”

“Good. I mean, he’s cool. Fits in well.” Devon struggled to find the right answer without knowing anything about Mattie.

“Bullshit. The girls are fighting over him, aren’t they?”

Devon had to laugh. “Well, yeah, that’s part of it.”

“I figured he’d play it that way.” She ashed on the pavement and shook her head. “Front like he’s single.”

“Isn’t he?”

Mattie pointed across the parking lot at a blonde with long hair
in a fishtail braid. The girl was laughing with a few other blondes in volleyball uniforms. “Might want to ask Nikki. She seems to think they’re still together. Apparently he calls her every night. They’re like,
in love
, or something like that.”

The same words Cleo used
. “That’s, um, illuminating.” Devon said. Her throat tightened.

“Illuminating? Okay, Miss Keaton Vocab.” Mattie grinned. “Just playing. I gotta get going. Tell Cleo I miss that slut.” She stomped out her cigarette.

“I will. Thanks for the chat.”

“What’s this all about, anyway?” Mattie was already starting her car. “You scoping out your new school? You get kicked out or something?”

Devon sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know.”

Mattie’s smile softened. “If you want to get in trouble here, you know where to find me.” She gave Devon a short wave and peeled out of the parking lot.

Devon watched her go, remembering Oz’s dopey, flustered face when he’d lied about Nikki’s call in Cleo’s car. He wasn’t another Grant. Besides, he’d agreed to do Cleo the favor of spying on C.C. Tran, even though it clearly annoyed his older sister. The evidence pointed one way: he was trying to ingratiate himself with Cleo by being Mr. Nice Guy with her troubled friend Devon—overcompensating while trying to hide his cheating. He had no idea what was going on in Devon’s life, really.

Besides, he didn’t seem that bright.

So for now she could cross him off her list of possible spies. It was an assumption, but one she was willing to make. And at the very least, she could give Cleo a heads-up. She headed for Broadway, hoping to catch a bus that didn’t pass right by Huntington House. The likelihood that she’d run into Eli was small, but she didn’t want to stir up unnecessary attention.

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.
Ugh
. Probably Mom,
wondering why she wasn’t at home … No. A blocked number. “Hello?”

“Is it nice to be back in the city?” a boy’s voice on the other end asked.

Devon froze. “Eric?”

“I heard you got into a little trouble. Seems out of character for you.”

“How did you know? Eric, what the hell is—”

“My attorney called this morning. Seems you won’t be testifying at my trial any longer. Now that you’re not a credible witness.”

Devon stood in the middle of the sidewalk, blood turning to ice in her veins. A bus whizzed past, kicking up leaves and dirt. She turned around, feeling exposed, vulnerable, a target.
Eric Hutchins
. She’d been wrong to consider him even remotely human. Someone was probably stalking her right now on his behalf.

“But that’s okay, because you’re going to help me,” Eric continued. “Maya needs to be there. The trial is next week. She’s going to call you and tell you where she is. And I need you to go get her. If you do that, all your problems will go away. Everyone wins.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Devon demanded. “This is twisted. Why would I help you? Let’s start there before you blackmail me.” She ducked into an alcove in front of a closed restaurant to hear above the roar of traffic.

“Where are you?” Eric asked. “You’re suspended. Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“What the hell do you care?” she snapped.

“You want to go back to Keaton, right? I can make that happen for you.”

“You? So it
is
your family that pays my scholarship—”

“Wrong again, Mackintosh. We never paid for your scholarship, but I can arrange for a new one, courtesy of the Hutchins family. And then you’ll be fine.”

Devon kept scanning the street. “Why me? If you guys need Maya so badly, why won’t your parents go? Or hers?”

Eric didn’t answer.

“Hello?”

“Our parents don’t really know.” The shift in his tone was abrupt. No more smarminess; it was almost pleading. “She needs to be at the trial. Devon, if I go to jail, this will be my last chance to see her. I need her here. You have to help us.”

There was shaky emotion underneath the arrogance. Not that Devon felt anything, or even pitied him. He was probably doomed to a life in prison—an imprisonment he deserved—whether Devon testified or not. It was a desperate move on his part. On the other hand, she’d been suspended. She had two weeks to kill with her mom at work the whole time. And if this could help her find out who
did
pay for her scholarship, then she might find out who had sent Eli and Khaki, maybe even why Reed had been so obsessed with giving her that diary …