Mindspeak (16 page)

Danielle gave me the thumbs up. “Okay,
but don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” She skipped off toward the dorm.

Heat rose to my cheeks with
Danielle’s words.

A grin crept across Jack’s face. He
brushed his fingers down my face. “Blushing again?”

I slapped his hand away. “Cut it
out. No.” I shed his fleece jacket and handed it back to him. “I’m just hot,
that’s all. Here.”
Cover up, for crying out loud.

Amusement stretched across his
cheeks. “Let’s talk about this later.” He took the fleece and slid his arms in
it.

“No, please.” I pleaded, “I have to
know, Jack. Who is Sandra?” Sandra was key in all of this. I was sure of it.

He sucked in a deep breath, while
rubbing a thumb back and forth across my cheek. “I think I’ve told you enough
for one night. You need sleep.” He dropped his hand to his side. “But I’ll make
a deal with you.”

“No. No deals. I want to know right
now.”

His lips twitched. He rubbed both
of my arms, generating heat over the goose bumps that formed there. “Patience, Padawan.
Friday night, you and me. A date.”

I raised a single brow. “Uh… That’s
your deal? A date?” This was ridiculous. Was my life a game to him? “I don’t
date doctor types. Or Wellington boys. Everybody knows that.”

“Make an exception.” His expression
turned more serious. “Cause that’s the deal. Take it or leave it.”

“Why do you want to take me on a
date? I’m not even that fun.”

“It’s like I told you that first
day we met. I’m curious about you.” He glanced over his shoulder. The last of
the girls entered the dorm. The fire truck was pulling away. “And I like the
feel of your lips.” To prove his point he ran a finger across my slightly
parted lips, and I stopped breathing. “So, you go on a date with me, then I’ll
tell you what I know about Sandra Whitmeyer.”

~~~~

I shoved reference books onto the
library shelf. Danielle did yoga inches away from me. I pushed the cart
forward, knocking Dani’s toes.

“Hey, watch it.” She backed up,
barely breaking from her graceful pose.

I smirked but continued shelving
books.

Sandra Whitmeyer. Did Jack say the
last name on purpose, knowing I might recognize the name? Or was that a slip?
Whitmeyer was the name of one of Gram’s neighbors in the nursing home. The same
lady Wolfman spoke to before he practically attacked me the night Dad was
killed. Except her name was not Sandra. It was Ilene or something.

Maybe I
would
have to go out
on that date.

“If I wasn’t seeing it for myself,
I wouldn’t believe it,” Danielle said while hooking her right foot around her
left knee and raising her prayer hands over her head. She’d been going on and
on about something while I was lost in thought.

Rolling my eyes at her flexibility,
I slid a book about Buddhism onto the shelf and pushed the cart further down
the row. This time, away from Danielle’s ranting.

“I mean, come on. Really?” Danielle
released her pose and followed before she bent over at the waist and continued
stretching while I worked. “You’re at least considering going on a date with
him, right? You should ask him, if he hasn’t asked you. You two look perfect
together.”

Of course we look perfect, we
were engineered to look perfect
.
But together
? “Don’t you ever get
tired of yoga?” I asked.

“You know, you should consider yoga.
It would help your swimming.” She closed her eyes and gave her head a quick
shake. “Don’t change the subject.”

“What
is
the subject?” I
asked. I made room for a rather large book,
History of Middle East Religions
.

“You and Mr. Hot Stuff over there.”

I craned my neck around the shelf.
Jack typed on a laptop, occasionally checking a notebook beside him. The cut
above his eye was healing. The swelling had gone down, but some bruising
remained on his perfect face.

I squeezed my eyes tight. These
thoughts were clouding my judgment. Could I really go out on a date with him?

“Hello? Lex. Yoohoo! It’s me. Your
best friend. What were you two talking about last night all cozy and close on
that bench?”

I shifted back, keeping the shelf
between Jack and me. “Nothing.”

She straightened. “Come on. I mean
you barely had any clothes on when we found you, and when he took off his
fleece…” Danielle fanned herself.

I evil-eyed her, knowing that same
heat traveled through me.

“What? Has he even asked you out
yet?” She gnawed on a cuticle waiting on my answer. “He did, didn’t he? That’s
why your face is all wrinkled up.”

“I have a paper to finish. But yes,
he asked me out.” I waved a hand in the air as I spoke, and then I pushed the
empty cart back toward the circulation desk, leaving Danielle standing in the
middle of the religious book section looking like she might faint at the idea
of me going out with a guy.

I told myself that the only reason
I was even considering going out on a date with Jack was to get more info about
the mysterious Sandra and more information about who I was. Not because I
couldn’t forget the softness of his lips. Or the warmth of his breath on my
neck.

After returning the empty cart, I
stretched my book satchel across my chest and stared across the library tables
at Jack. I’d need to give him an answer about the date eventually. I sucked in
a deep breath and let it out slowly before I began the trek over to him.

I slid my bag on the table and sat
across from him. His sandy blond hair stood up in the front and some on the
sides, like he had been running his hands through it. He didn’t even look up at
me when I let out a dramatic sigh.

Frowning, I pulled a notebook out
of my bag and opened it to the essay I’d been trying unsuccessfully to draft.
The deadline to apply to colleges for early admission was still three weeks
away, the same time frame for applying to The Program. This essay was only meant
for college admissions.

Pen in hand, I wrote, glancing over
at Jack every few minutes. He typed, ignoring me. What was his deal?

Briana entered the library and upon
spotting Jack, marched right over and sat in the chair beside him. “You ready?”

“Yeah, in just a sec.”

It was like I was invisible. And
that ridiculous perfume Briana wore made me want to throw up.

“Oh, hi, Lexi,” she said. “Missed
you at practice this morning.” A smirk toyed with the corners of her lips.

“Oh, yeah?” I asked with the same
excitement I showed someone waxing my eyebrows. After being out half the night,
I’d decided to skip practice and make it up later in the day.

“I don’t want to beat you just
because you can’t seem to fit your team commitments into your busy schedule.”

Jack closed his laptop, then stowed
it and his books into his backpack. Finally, he looked across the table at me
with no readable expression. I, of course, put on my best happy face before
glancing down at my notebook.

Did I dare ask where they were
going?

“Lexi.” Kyle poked his head through
the library door. “Dean Fisher wants to see you in his office. You have a
visitor.”

Jack’s brows slammed together in an
unspoken question. Perfect.
Now
he was concerned. A minute ago, I didn’t
even exist.

I gathered my things, and with a
melodramatic flip of my hair over my shoulder, I glided out of the library
without another glance toward Briana or Jack.

~~~~

“Your father gave me this the last
time I saw him.”

I took the box from the woman
sitting across from me. She crossed her long legs, adjusting her pencil thin
skirt to cover just below her knee. Then she uncrossed them and went the
opposite way.
Fidgety
.

“And why did my dad give this
package to you?”

“I’m not sure, really. He said he
had planned on giving it to you in person, but he asked if I would hold on to
it. ‘Just in case’ he said…” Her voice cracked. She covered her mouth with her
manicured fingers.

“Ms. Daniels—”

“Call me Marci.”

“Marci, what exactly was your
relationship with my father?” This was more than just a business relationship.

She swallowed hard, attempting to
regain her composure, I guessed. “We were working on something together.”

The cardboard box in front of me
was opened, but the contents were covered in white tissue paper. “What?”

She scrunched up her face like she
hadn’t heard my question or didn’t understand it.

“You say you were working on
something. What? You don’t look like a doctor or a research person.” I glanced
down at her spiky heels, her long, wavy hair, and her perfectly painted lips.

“You’re perceptive.” She smiled.
Relaxed a little, maybe. “I’m a reporter.”

“And you were doing a news story on
my father?”

“A series of articles,” she said, “about
his work. Your father was on the verge of rocking the world-wide medical
community with some amazing research. He was a brilliant man, Lexi.”

That he was. I thought about the
mysterious email I received before my father’s death. And the attached email
sent to the IIA all those years ago. “Have you spoken to the police or FBI
about this series of articles?”

“Yes. I have been asked to delay
printing them, but I’m under no obligation.”

“Free speech and all?”

She nodded and reached a finger to
swipe the moisture under her eyes. “Except that they’re starting to throw
around laws and big words with regard to national security, so who knows if the
articles will ever see the light of day.” She paused, twirling a sapphire ring
round and round on her finger. “Lexi, I admired your father very much. He and I
grew… close over the last year.”

Close, huh?

“The last time I interviewed him,
he spoke of you. Said you were planning to attend medical school. He was very
proud of you.”

Proud of me because I was going to
attend medical school, or just proud of me? I wondered.

“What are the articles about?” I
asked. “Exactly?”

Her expression went blank. Her eyes
wandered out the conference room window to the front lawn. I followed her line
of vision. Students busied themselves with various activities—lacrosse,
reading, a yoga class. Sometimes, students at Wellington appeared to have
normal lives. On the outside, they laughed, excelled in school, and
participated in sports, but on the inside? They missed their parents, wished to
live in a suburban house, or attend a normal high school, one in which they
could come and go as they pleased.

“Lexi, I’m afraid for you because of
who your father was and for me because of what he shared with me. I’ve been
getting threatening messages at work. I think the less you know at this point,
the better.”

“Why is it adults think they are
protecting children by keeping them in the dark? When really the risk and the
danger only multiplies the more the lies and the secrets build.”

“I know honey, but—”

“And before you know it, the deceit
has increased in size and pressure and… boom!” I slammed my fist down on the
table. Marci jumped. “An explosion of monstrous and fatal proportions. But that
is a recurring theme these days—keeping things from poor little Lexi.”

“Lexi, I’m sorry.” She grabbed my
hand. The gesture was maternal, but she appeared barely old enough to be my big
sister. “I’m sorry about your father. I know that he loved you.” She paused.
Retracted her hand. “I promise I’ll come back and tell you what’s in the
articles before they go to print. I can do that. I owe Peter that.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose, a
little sorry for my outburst. “Thank you for bringing this to me. I’m surprised
Dean Fisher let you.”

Marci squirmed under my scrutiny. “I
didn’t tell anyone about this box. I promised your dad I wouldn’t.”

She stood to leave, but turned when
she reached the door. “Hang on to this,” she said, handing me a business card. “If
you need anything or ever want to talk, please call me. My cell number and my
personal email address are written on the back.”

After a brief pause, she added, “Be
careful, okay. Your father felt you were protected within the walls of this
school, but evil often finds a way.”

Chapter
Fourteen

A hard swim did not erase Marci
Daniels’ words from my mind. She had worn her fear on the sleeves of her Dolce
& Gabanna silk suit. And that fear was contagious.

I made my way through the line for
dinner, faking a huge smile at Mrs. Sanders—The Best Food Services Technician
Ever—for my dinner-to-go container. At the dessert table, I was tempted by the
rich smell of warm chocolate-chocolate chip cookies, but grabbed a banana
instead. My stomach protested with a large growl.

The intention was to grab food and
escape to my room, probably not something Dean Fisher or Ms. Jones approved of,
but I had attended boarding school long enough to know how to work around the
system.

Students talked and laughed louder
than usual tonight. Or maybe my headache made it seem that way. Kyle sat with
members of the swim team. Danielle had squeezed into the middle of the group,
kind of like a mascot.

My eyes scanned the length of the
table, my hair still dripping down the front of my sweatshirt from the swim.
Brianna sat across from Jack at the other end. They both had notebooks out, and
Bree waved her hands in the air as she spoke.

Why did he spend so much time
with her?
I just didn’t get it.

Jack looked up from their
conversation and turned his head toward me, his face expressionless. I hadn’t
thought of him as moody before, but the cold shoulder in the library, and now…