Prep School Experiment (20 page)

The audience whispered, confused murmurs.

Rhys shook Christian’s hand and moved between the senator and Michelle, front and center. Michelle held his hand, hers cold and small. The senator dropped his big hand on Rhys’ shoulder. Michelle motioned for Christian and took his hand, too, so they were all linked. One big, happy, political family.

Bob shook his head from the front table and did a wave-off gesture as if he could stop what was coming.

The senator ignored him. “What we reported to you previously is true. Christian is my son.” The murmurs altered but didn’t stop. They got louder. “But Rhys is too.”

There were gasps and a few knowing looks.

“Mine
and
Michelle’s. The baby who died in the storm was not Braedon Shay Wentworth, as we believed. Braedon was switched with a baby, one of our fellow Texans, named Rhys Zukowski and raised here in southeast Texas.”

Murmurs became full-out talking, and flashes went off as cell phones rose. Members of the press hurried from the back of the room to the front with larger cameras.

“I had no intention of disclosing this truth before the election because I didn’t want the pressure or the press to land on him. But I’ve realized it’s time for the truth. When the voters come out tomorrow, they’ll vote their conscience. They’ll vote the issues. And they’ll vote the man. A man who refuses to acknowledge his son is not one worth voting for. Tonight, I introduce you to my son, Michelle’s son, and Christian’s fraternal twin, Rhys Wentworth.

The crowd erupted and the press jumped in with questions. Michelle led Rhys and Christian down to the front table to let the senator field them. Rhys twisted in his chair and hooked his finger at Kaitlin, patting the seat beside him. He spared a glance at her parents. Her dad had his doctor’s game face on. But, her mom had flushed cheeks and wide eyes. Kaitlin came straight over and squeezed in beside him, taking his hand.

He looked back at his grandparents. They each beamed in their own way. His West Texas grandpa was slapping his knee and the shoulder of his other sons. His New York grandparents smiled. Their smiles said all was right in their world.

Kaitlin walked beside Rhys toward the Grand Ballroom for dessert.

The senator’s campaign manager hurried to catch up to Rhys, a tight expression on his face. He clearly hadn’t known that the senator was going to reveal Rhys’ identity and he was trying to regain control of the evening. “Your cousins, uncles, aunts, and all the rest are pushing to meet you. I’m putting them off because we have further speeches to get through tonight, and I need you to sit with the Alaskan kids.”

Kaitlin stifled a giggle. She was an Alaskan kid.

They were paced by two security guards. She tried to keep up with their long strides, holding her dress clear of her heels with one hand and clinging to Rhys’ arm with the other, but she was falling behind and about to give up when she saw her friends at the center table—Elena and Geneva. Everything in her lightened. Both girls wore red, which looked fantastic on both the pale-skinned, brunette Elena and the stunning, dark-skinned Geneva. Kaitlin squeezed Rhys’ arm, and shook free, running over to hug her former roommates.

When they let her go, Elena’s date, Thane, hugged her too.

“So glad to see you guys.”

Rhys caught up to them and shook Thane’s hand. He hugged Elena next.

“Rhys, this is Geneva,” Kaitlin said, and Rhys shook her hand too.

They took seats together and the waiter placed Black Tie cake in front of them. Kaitlin had no interest in more food and wished she could sneak her friends out so they could catch up. But they were here for a purpose. So, she dropped her napkin in her lap and prepared to wait out the speeches.

The senator moved up to the podium. He thanked everyone and moved on to his keynote speech. “As a sitting member of Congress, I take this opportunity to announce the closing of the boarding school in Alaska.”

Kaitlin gasped along with both girls at her table and half the room. She glanced from the mixed emotions on Elena’s and Thane’s faces to the surprise on Geneva’s face.

“There was a major earthquake at the school.” The senator held his hands up. “No one was hurt, but until I’m assured of the structure’s safety, I won’t risk the life of anyone’s child by having them there. The kids who attended will get their promised scholarships. It’s not their fault that an act of nature has infringed on their education.”

Elena took a sip of her sparkling cider. “Yeah, that’s why they’re closing it.”

“Cover up, to shut us up,” Geneva said.

Thane’s mouth tensed, and he didn’t say anything.

Kaitlin knew his family and Elena’s didn’t get along. This news meant they’d be moving back home. All the strain between their families would now become their problem.

Elena tilted her head toward Thane, making her brunette hair slide forward on her shoulder. “Thought you’d keep me a secret ’til the snow thawed? Guess the snow thawed early.” She turned to Rhys. “What do you think, Rhys?”

“Sky high, Elena. When you move back into the city limits with him, your budding”— Rhys stopped mid-sentence and motioned to Thane—“whatever this is will blow higher than the Trallwyn stadium.”

“F-U, Rhys,” Thane said. “Like a politician’s kid knows shit about the truth.” Thane gestured to Kaitlin. “Elena’s been bitching about how you treat Kaitlin for weeks—Kaitlin’s been e-mailing.”

OMG. Heat filled Kaitlin’s face.

Elena hit Thane’s arm and turned to Rhys. “You moron. Kaitlin claimed you on day one at the Boarding School. She tackled you. Said you were her match. Rhys Zukowski from Texas. From
my
trailer park. Not anyone else.”

Please stop. Why
had she wanted her friends back again?

Kaitlin stuck the tines of her fork into the chocolate icing of the cake she didn’t want and scraped it off the top. A droplet of water landed on the back of her hand. She looked up to find out who’d thrown what, and a spray of water hit her full in the face. She jumped back at the force, the cold wetness, and squealed.

Rhys grabbed her arm.

Other guests echoed her surprise as the overhead sprinkler system kicked on, gushing water onto the guests’ tuxedos and ball gowns.

The fire alarms shrieked.

A group of security guards got to their table in seconds. “We’re evacuating,” the one in front said. “Move.”

They were ushered toward the podium and exited through the side door into a private hallway overrun with people. The guard tapped his headset. “The senator’s family’s meeting on the south lawn.”

“Where are my parents?” Kaitlin said. “We’re staying on the 12
th
floor.”

“The whole hotel is being emptied. Security teams will get everyone to their designated meeting spot and account for everyone.”

The alarm abruptly stopped along with the spraying water, but they were still ushered outside.

Kaitlin blinked against the sting of her dripping mascara and saw that the guards had paired off beside her and her friends. Two each stood by Elena, two by Thane, two by Geneva, and two by her. Four surrounded Rhys, and he looked pissed about it.

The bodyguard, who’d spoke before, tapped his earpiece. “We’ll escort you kids home.”

“My family’s at a hotel in Houston,” Geneva said.

The guard nodded. “We have your schedules.”

Elena, Thane, and Geneva gave her a quick, drippy hug and they went off with their respective guards.

Kaitlin looked back at the imposing hotel. It looked fine from the outside, except for the milling wet guests and the news crew.

“Fire department can’t find a problem. Could be a prank, but the hotel guests are being relocated tonight as a precaution,” the bodyguard said. “We’ll get you to your family.”

“Kaitlin’s family will stay at the Wentworths’ house with me,” Rhys said.

Kaitlin squeezed his fingers.

The bodyguard nodded and they moved out.

Election Day—East Salon

“In thirty, you Alaskan kids will join the senator on stage for a photo op.” Bob gulped his coffee and scrolled on his computer tablet. “The press may throw out a few questions.” He tilted his head from side to side. “Keep your responses positive and short.” He hit the side of his tablet. “Stupid machine.”

Maybe the computer seizing up would give them a break from this incessant recitation. Rhys shifted on his chair and eyed the window.

Bob dug through his briefcase and whipped out a backup tablet. “Early numbers are starting to roll in, and they’re not all where we want them to be.”

For that, read, Steven Wentworth was trailing the other candidate by a margin the size of Texas.

“We’re getting flak for closing the costly boarding school program.” Bob caught the eyes of Elena, Kaitlin, Geneva, and Thane, cautioning them like four-year-olds who were reaching for a glass without a lid. “Your responses will be positive to counter this problem. Right?”

Elena looked at him like he was a moron. “I get to come home and get a scholarship. Yeah. It’ll be positive.”

“Money for nothing and a trip home for free.” Geneva high-fived Elena and then she kicked Kaitlin’s chair. “You coming for a visit over Christmas? We can go to Pike Place Market. Then I can come up to New York for some shopping.”

Kaitlin beamed. “Absolutely.”

Geneva kicked Elena’s chair next. “We’ll drop by and see you too, maybe for spring break, if there’s anything to do here?” She looked around the room like she couldn’t think of anything.

“So much,” Elena said. “We can drive up and down Main Street. Back and forth. Drink beer in a field.”

Geneva groaned, but Kaitlin grinned bigger, her face glowing. Rhys would have to make sure he took a trip to Texas that weekend. The guys around here weren’t stupid.

Bob rose. “Good. Good. But don’t mention beer in your answers.” He tossed some
Vote Wentworth
pins on the table along with some American flag pins. “Put those on for the photo.” He slapped the side of his tablet again. “Always freaking something.” He strode to the door. “I’ll be back in thirty. Don’t leave this room.”

“Someone’s wound tight,” Elena said.

Within seconds of Bob leaving, the Director from the Alaskan boarding school strode in carrying a grocery bag. It was so weird seeing him out of context that Rhys stared along with everyone else. They offered him lukewarm greetings.

The director swiped a hand over his sweating forehead.

Guess he couldn’t take the Texas heat or maybe it was the wool suit. No one wore wool in Texas. Grandmother had ordered Rhys a whole range of suits for this weekend, explaining about lightweight fabrics and regional differences, nothing he wanted to know.

“They invited me here to ensure you kids show off the knowledge you gained from your time at the Alaskan boarding school.” The director set the grocery bag on the table, but he didn’t take his jacket off. Sweat beaded on his upper lip and he pushed the bag toward Thane. “Help me set this up.”

Thane lifted out five covered dishes and placed them one by one on the table. An odd sulfur smell emitted from the bag.

What kind of demo was he planning?

The director handed Rhys a stack of index cards. Rhys flipped through them. They had the words
liquid, solid,
and
gas
on them. Not real complex stuff.

The director tugged on his tie, but he didn’t loosen it. “Each of you take a dish, lift the lid and say the words written on it. The theme is water.”

“Fascinating,” Rhys said.

“We’re not your trained dogs,” Elena said, but she lifted the lid on her plate anyway. Two small espresso-sized cups sat inside. “Water.” She poured one cup into the other and read from the lid, “Water is a liquid.”

Rhys stepped forward to check out the contents of the cups.
It was just water.
This looked like a kindergartner’s performance.

Kaitlin lifted her lid with a flourish. Three teal plastic cubes lay inside. “Arctic ice. This is the color of arctic ice.” She tried to give the words some drama, but she didn’t have much to work with.

Thane lifted a lid revealing three clear cubes. “This is the color of regular ice.” He frowned. “We sound like freaking morons.”

This was
weird
, and wouldn’t help the senator’s re-election. Rhys backed toward the door. He’d talk to Bob. Bob was manipulative and controlling, but he wasn’t stupid. Not like this demo.

The director clapped his hands. “You have to do this.” He put on a face mask, the kind surgeons wore. “You’ll wear these to add to the drama.” The mask muffled his words.

“I’m not wearing that,” Elena said. “Have you seen how much press is out there? This is national news.”

“And
no,
we don’t have to do it.” Geneva lifted her lid anyway as if with some kind of morbid curiosity. Smoke puffed out. “I am not doing the stinky gas demonstration. Make one of the boys do it.” The silver dish dropped from her hand and clanked on the table.

The noxious odor was like fireworks mixed with rotten eggs.

Rhys reached for the doorknob.

“Stay right there, Rhys.” The director had something gray and metal in his hand. A gun.

Rhys’ gaze flew back to the table. “Kaitlin, run!”

Kaitlin slumped forward on the table, her hair spilling across her arms.

Geneva’s black eyes rolled back and she dropped to the floor.

Shit.

Get to Kaitlin.

Rhys pulled his jacket over his face, ignored the threat of the gun, and ran toward her. He tried to move on quickly, but he staggered like the trailer park denizens coming home after trip from the bar.

Smoke billowed above the table. Thane lay back in his chair, eyes shut. Elena fell sideways. Rhys pulled Kaitlin off her chair. She slipped from his grasp to the ground, too heavy for him to hold. He reached through the thickened air, grabbing for her arm. It felt like he was reaching through molasses to get to her. He clasped her wrist and dragged her back a few steps.