Keaton School 01: Escape Theory (14 page)

“Matt? Are you okay?”

“Hey, I’m glad you’re here.” Matt walked right into Devon’s room. 9:45
A.M.
on a Sunday morning was definitely not part of visiting hours, according to the
Keaton Companion
. But rules would probably be lax today.

“I need your help.” Matt said. He parked his feet in front of Devon. He stood up straight, eyes toward her ceiling, and chest
puffed out. His hands tapped against his thighs. From the sweat glistening down the side of his face and his pulse throbbing along a vein in his neck, Devon figured he was on some kind of upper. More Adderall probably.

“Matt.…”

“Go ahead, I’m ready.” He said still looking up.

“Matt! What do you need help with? You need to tell me that part.”

He sighed and shook his head. The tapping stopped for a moment. “Sorry, I’m a mess. My tie. I don’t know how to tie it. I mean, I know how, but not today. I’ve been trying all morning and it’s like my hands just forgot. So, could you?” He looked back up at the ceiling and puffed his chest out again, waiting.

Devon sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you live with at least twenty other guys. Wouldn’t asking any one of them make more sense?”

Matt gave her a weak smile. “Today doesn’t exactly make sense.”

Devon smiled back. He didn’t need to say anything else. “Lemme just look it up, I’ve never done this before.” She flipped her laptop open again and pulled up an instructional video. “Okay, I just grab here.…” She pulled at the tie ends. “Wait, this is backward. Here, you gotta sit.” Devon guided Matt to sit on her bed. She knelt behind him, hands draped over his shoulders as she tried to follow the video.

Matt’s foot tapped on the floor. Devon could smell his cologne. She had never been this close to Matt before. It struck her: Any freshman girl would trade places with Devon in a second. This was Matt Dolgens, gorgeous, cool, beyond connected, beyond rich, beyond everything and everyone. Except that now he couldn’t tie his own tie. She finished the last loop and gave him a final pat on the chest.

“There. That should do the trick,” she said.

“Wait.” Matt grabbed her hands and wrapped them across his chest. Devon knew he didn’t want her to let go. She felt the same. She just wanted someone to hold her close, make her feel like this Hutch darkness wouldn’t trap her alone forever. She leaned
forward, resting her chin on Matt shoulder and shut her eyes tightly. He squeezed her back.

For what seemed like a very long time, they sat together on her bed in a silent embrace, breathing in the same rhythm. Devon looked at the clock. 9:55
A.M.
Gently she pulled away. “It’s time to go,” she whispered. She leaned back, sitting back on her heels. Matt leaned forward and adjusted his shoes, shiny black oxfords; he’d probably never worn them before.

There was a spot of green paper poking out of his pants pocket. Devon swallowed. It would be wrong to take it; Matt would hate her and they’d just shared a moment—something real and profound. Matt wasn’t faking. He was in pain. But … Hutch. They were on the way to his funeral. If a stolen scrap of green paper did anything to explain why Hutch was being buried today, it would be worth it.

Devon rubbed Matt’s back while he was still leaning over. With her right hand she slipped two fingers into his pocket and pulled out the green scrap. Matt turned around to face her. She quickly smiled at him and palmed the paper. “You know, Hutch was right about you,” he said with a genuine smile. He stood up and held out a hand. She froze. Had he seen what she’d done?
Play dumb. That usually works
. She offered her left hand and Matt helped her up from the bed.

“Thanks for the help with the tie and all,” he said.

Devon nodded. She took Matt’s hand and led him through the glass doors, tucking the crinkled green paper into her pocket.

“Let’s make him proud,” she whispered.

T
HE CROWD OUTSIDE THE
Keaton Chapel was even bigger than Devon had expected. Seniors, juniors, most of the sophomores, and even a few freshmen lingered on the grass outside, still wet from the morning dew. Mr. Robins chatted with a circle of students, his red tie sticking out in an ocean of black. Devon quickly dropped her hand from Matt’s before he spotted her.

“I gotta say hi to the family,” Matt said to Devon. “See ya in there.”

He wandered to the chapel entrance where Hutch’s parents stood side by side with Hutch’s older brother, Eric. At Family Weekend events over the past two years Devon remembered seeing Hutch’s mom, Mitzi, always at the side of his father, Bill. Mitzi wore a black pencil skirt with matching black blazer, probably Chanel. Everything was fitted to highlight her small frame, Pilates-sized within an ounce of perfection. Her hair was a deep walnut color, too deep and dark to be natural for a woman in her fifties. Devon fought to push the judgmental thoughts out of her head. Mitzi was at her son’s funeral. She wondered what it must have been like for Mitzi to get dressed for this morning. Bill, too, for that matter. Mitzi gripped her husband’s arm while Headmaster Wyler approached to console them.

“You’re doing morning sessions now?” a voice called.

Devon whirled around to see Grant running to catch up with her. His blond hair was wet and slicked back. For once, he wasn’t wearing his signature white hat. But he still looked sporty and casual: a gray suit and white shirt with no tie. For some reason the lack of tie bugged Devon, like it was rude of him not to dress more formally.

“Morning sessions?” she asked.

“You and Matt seemed awfully … intimate.” He said the last word with a bite to it.

Devon stopped walking. She wanted to be mad. But she felt the paper in her pocket, poking against her thigh and knew she wasn’t riding high on morality at the moment either. She sighed, changing her tone. “Today’s pretty difficult for everyone. I was just helping, okay?”

Grant reached out and took her hands in his. “Sorry. I saw you two holding hands.” He pulled her into his chest for a long hug. He swayed a little from side to side. Devon closed her eyes, letting herself be lulled into him. “Let’s just get through this,” he whispered with his cheek pressed to her head. Then he leaned back and
faced her. His blue eyes caught the sunlight. “I want to see you later. Think we both need a little distraction? What do you say?”

Devon took his hand and turned toward the organ music emanating from the chapel. “Like you said, let’s just get through this first.”

Inside the chapel doors, Eric Hutchins was the first to greet the mourners. This was a Keaton legend, right in front of her. So many rumors and stories. The best: Headmaster Wyler had lost a bet to Eric, and had to run a lap around campus in nothing but his running shoes and underwear. But here now, Eric was just someone who’d lost his brother. He was tall like Hutch, with long brown hair that was gelled back and tucked behind his ears. His eyes had the puffy, swollen look of someone who has been crying. Still, he was classically good-looking, like Hutch would have been. Devon noticed his cheek twitching at the top of his jaw, clenching like Hutch’s used to. What could he possibly be feeling right now? She resisted the urge to hug him.

Grant gave Eric a one-armed hug. “I’m so sorry, bro,” he murmured.

“Thanks, man. Hey listen, will you be a pallbearer? My knee’s still busted and can’t take the weight.” He plucked the white rose from his lapel and tucked it into Grant’s. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Anything you need. Oh, this is Devon.” Grant said.

Devon stepped forward and shook hands with Eric. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m so sorry. Hutch, I mean, Jason, was.…” She stammered looking for the right word.

“Don’t worry. I know. Hutch was Hutch.” Eric gave Devon a reassuring pat on her shoulder and turned to the next guest in the receiving line.

Devon snuck a glance over her shoulder, then another. It was Maya, looking stunning in a black cocktail dress.

“I wasn’t sure.…” Eric started.

“I wouldn’t miss it,” Maya cut in before Eric could finish. She continued inside without shaking Mr. and Mrs. Hutchins’ hands.
Eric stared at Maya as she slid into a pew. Devon tried to stop staring, herself, but couldn’t. Was Eric really checking Maya out? At his brother’s funeral?

The Keaton chapel was small, built for no more than two hundred people, packed tightly into narrow wooden pews—and far beyond full capacity today. The entire wall at the front was made up of windows facing the North, so the sun was always bright but never direct. Normally, the effect was uplifting and almost otherworldly—but with the glossy closed coffin up front near the altar, Devon found herself wanting to turn away. The coffin was strewn with white roses and draped with the green Keaton flag. Next to it sat an easel with a blown-up picture of Hutch in a boat: smiling, tan, happy.

Devon forced back tears. She clenched her jaw. Who decided to put the Keaton flag on his coffin? It almost made sense. The venue usually reserved for chorus recitals, poetry readings, and holiday services was now a funeral home. But it would have bugged Hutch. He refused to wear clothes with visible labels. The flag was like an overbearing corporate sponsor:
Hutch’s Funeral, brought to you by The Keaton School! Keeping track of your kids, dead or alive!

But it all came down to money. No doubt Headmaster Wyler was making a big showing about Hutch since there weren’t any future Hutchins kids coming up the pipeline to fill his ranks and keep the donations coming in. Wyler was an expert at reminding the parents that the school was basically raising their kids and turning them into productive adults. Or trying.

Whispering thinned into silence as Headmaster Wyler stepped up to the podium. After he welcomed the Hutchins family and Keaton community, he turned the floor over to seniors Thomas Anders and Becca Linden for a musical interlude. Naturally: Thomas and Becca were stars of the music program. (Even though, of course, they’d probably spent less time with Hutch than Devon had.) Thomas was considered a piano genius; Becca, a shoo-in for Julliard or
American Idol
or both with her angelic voice. And Devon had to admit,
when Becca took to the front of the room, her backlit blonde braid almost looked like a halo.

Thomas sat down at the piano and started playing. Devon wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh or barf. “In the Arms of an Angel,” by Sarah McLachlan. This was Hutch’s nightmare, come true. He wasn’t here to defend it, to wake up from the bad dream, or have anyone in his family protest. Devon remembered hearing somewhere once: “Funerals aren’t for the dead, they are for the living.” That made perfect sense now. This display was all about Hutch’s parents. They had to hold their heads up high.

Devon looked around the chapel. Two pews in front and to her left Presley sat with Pete, their heads were lowered, but Devon could see they were passing notes on the program back and forth. Sasha Harris was a few rows in front of Devon, trembling slightly. Maya sat near the front with her head bowed. She used a tissue to dab at her eyes every few minutes. Devon spotted Cleo standing in the back, looking bored. But where was Isla?

Matt sat in the front row next to Eric. The song came to a close (mercifully!) and Devon noticed Eric pass a few white index cards to Matt, who then stepped up to the dais. Devon sat up a little straighter, nervous for Matt, and congratulating herself for a good job on his tie. Grant patted her thigh, and she slipped her hand under his. It probably caught him off guard to see her holding hands with Matt, especially considering she and Matt weren’t friends publicly. She shouldn’t have been annoyed. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could ever tell Grant that Matt was in Peer Counseling with her, even though it was easy enough to assume.

Matt cleared his throat and read his index cards. The audience shuffled in their seats, blew noses, and dried their eyes. “The Hutchins family asked me to say a few words about Jason, Hutch to those of us who knew him best.” Matt projected his voice nicely to the back of the room, made good eye contact with the audience, but the cards shook in his hands. Devon held her breath for him to be able to finish this speech without breaking down. Matt exhaled
slowly before continuing. Everywhere he went, Hutch made it his mission to make people happy.”

O
UTSIDE THE CHAPEL
, D
EVON
watched as the pallbearers loaded Hutch’s coffin into the waiting black hearse. The crowd started to dwindle. Students slowly walked uphill to the dining hall to get a late breakfast … when Devon heard something. Was it singing? A man’s voice … a thumping, like hooves … and that’s when she saw him: An old man in a cowboy hat, galloping downhill on horseback, singing out loud.

Reed Hutchins
.

Devon blinked. She wasn’t hallucinating. This was really happening. She looked for Hutch’s parents. They stood by the limos near the hearse, mouths agape. That’s when Devon heard the words clearly, “Kodachrome. You give us those nice bright colors. You give us the greens of summers. Makes you think all the world’s a sunny day, oh yeah!”

Devon’s throat tightened. She almost laughed. At least someone was representing Hutch as he would have wanted. Reed slowed to a stop by Hutch’s father, Bill: his son. Devon couldn’t hear what Bill said, but she saw taut lips and the bulge of a pounding jaw. Reed simply shook his head and smiled. “Kodachrome,” he hollered, then started coughing. Bill stepped forward and grabbed the horse’s reins. He pointed sharply down the hill, but Reed kept singing in a raspy voice. “Mama don’t you take my Kodachrome away!”

Bill let go and stalked into the nearest limo. Eric and Mitzy followed. The old man on his horse followed the somber procession, singing the whole way as they drew closer to Devon, following the road that would take them off campus. “I got my Nikon camera. I love to take a photograph. So Mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away.…”

“That’s Grandpa Reed,” a girl said.

Devon turned. She hadn’t even noticed, but Raven and Bodhi were standing next to her. Bodhi looked almost comical in a dark
suit with his blond dreads in a knot at the top of his head, like a toddler forced to dress up for a grown-up occasion. Raven wore a long black flowing dress, which complemented the black hair in clumps around her shoulders. Devon turned back to Reed. He was fewer than twenty feet away now, plodding along behind the blackened faceless cars.