The Rivals (12 page)

I hate to let her down, but I haven’t spent time with my true love—the piano—today. “I would love to, seriously. But I have a meeting and then a date with the music hall.”

“It’s going to be so much fun, and you could even be on my team,” she presses. “Plus we have the best snacks and lavender soda.”

“Lavender soda?”

“Oh, it’s great! Have you ever had it before?” she asks, and it’s funny because when she’s excited like this, the trace of French in her accent is stronger.

“Can’t say that I have,” I say.

“Plus, Parker’s coming,” she adds.

“Can I have a rain check? I promise to come to another one. But I’ve got to get my act together for my Juilliard audition.”

“But of course. You are welcome anytime,” she says, and clasps her hands together and then tips her head to me, always the gracious hostess. “And I know Jamie is hoping you can make it soon. She’s so excited about you maybe being her mentor.”

“I didn’t realize you were friends with Jamie,” I say, surprised. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Anjali hang out with anyone outside of her year before. “Her being a freshman and all.”

“McKenna made a
big
production out of introducing me to her. Well, everyone really,” Anjali says, then rolls her eyes. “It’s like she’s the personal welcoming committee for Jamie. But Jamie’s just pretty cool, period.”

“Have fun, then,” I say, and head down to the basement to meet the boys. I texted them earlier today calling this meeting.

“Hey, you,” Martin says, and slides his hand into mine when I sit next to him on the mustard-colored couch. The tips of his hair are still wet from getting out of the shower. I want to lean in and kiss him, then maybe even pounce on him, thanks to my newfound confidence. I entertain a brief fantasy of Parker as one of those small high-strung dogs that chase tennis balls all day. I toss one across the room, he zooms after it, while I steal a kiss with Martin.

Then another.

Then maybe I throw a tennis ball so far away that Parker’s gone for a long time and Martin and I are all alone and the thought of last year never even crosses my mind. I squeeze Martin’s hand tighter as a ribbon of heat runs through me, then I sneak a quick look at him. He gives me a slight grin, then lifts his eyebrows as if to ask,
What’s up?
I squeeze his hand again and when I do he traces the inside of my palm with his index finger and I want to melt into him.

I force myself to focus.

“Busy day,” I say as I take out my notebook and give them the details—the note, the dressing-room meeting, the Annie show-and-tell, Theo landing a spot on the debate team, and even Amy’s advice to get Anjali involved in the investigation.

“Damn. Impressive stuff,” Martin says, and gives me a smile. The green flecks in his brown eyes are lit up and I know that means he’s excited, happy. He rubs his hands together. “Now we know it’s localized to the debate team, so what we’ll need to do next is home in on who’s the ringleader. Or
ringleaders
, because I have a feeling we’re not just talking about one culprit here.”

Parker furrows his brow and taps his pen against his infernally present reporter’s notebook. He clears his throat, then says, “I don’t understand why you went alone to see Beat.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t understand why you didn’t bring one of us with you.”

“The note said
come alone
.”

“But wouldn’t it have been better to have backup? A third person to help record the details and hear what Beat had to say,” he points out, and bends his head to scribble something in his notebook. I hate that notebook. Why is it that he always seems to be writing in it when he’s disagreeing with me? Next time I’m in Martin’s room, I think I’ll steal that notebook. Then I’ll ship it off to Madagascar. A group of lemurs will await its arrival and rip it to shreds while swinging from tall trees. They’ll toss the torn pages to the ground like confetti.

“Are you saying I’m not able to report what went down? That I’m not a reliable witness or something?” I ask.

“No,” Parker says, holding up his hands like he’s been caught. “Of course not. I was just suggesting it might have been useful to have a third person present. Someone else there. But you didn’t do that. So let’s move on.”

“Let’s
not
move on,” I say, slapping my notebook down next to me. “Let’s address this now. You don’t think I’m capable of leading, do you?”

Parker’s pupils seem to dilate instantly, brimming with surprise. “I’m not saying that. I just want to make sure we are vetting everything according to proper procedures.”

“Dude, there’s no rule that says she has to bring another board member,” Martin says.

Translation:
back off, buddy
.

Then Parker does that thing he does. That self-deprecating shrug followed by a lopsided smile. “I’m sorry, guys,” he says, throwing in a quick chuckle for good measure. I bet he learned that from his tax-evading dad, good old example-setting Senator Hume.
Hey, son, when all else fails and you’re cornered for having been a dick, just toss in a little laugh. Wins the constituents over every time.

But then it hits me. Parker only backed down when Martin told him to. Not when I told him to. And I’m not okay with that anymore. Because I am finally figuring out how to do this job. I can see it; I need Parker to see it too. I look directly at him. “Parker, I’m going to need you to start showing some respect.”

He coughs and sputters and generally kicks his feet in the air like a cartoon baby picked up by someone much bigger. “But-but-but I do respect you.”

“You don’t act like it,” I point out. “And I’m not asking you to agree with everything I do. And I’m not asking you to stop bringing an opinion to the table. But I am asking you to stop acting as if Martin is the only one you will listen to,” I say, and I like this new me, I like this confident me, this girl on the other side. So does Martin, because he squeezes my hand again.

“Of course,” Parker mumbles. Then in a louder voice, “I’m really sorry, Alex. I’ll do better.”

“Thank you. So let’s figure out who we should zero in on,” I say, shifting gears. I let go of Martin’s hand, reach for my own notebook, and flip it open to list possible suspects.

“I’d say Beat,” Martin says quickly.

“What?” I spit out. I couldn’t be more shocked if he said me.

“Hell yeah,” he says. “He’s an actor. He probably even wrote out a script for his meeting with you earlier today.”

“You’re totally wrong,” I say. But I’m not defensive; I’m not angry. I say the words like I’m answering a question in a class and I’m sure of the answer. Because I am sure. I know Beat was telling the truth; I know the
Evita
incident is behind him. “You didn’t see him. You didn’t see what he was like,” I say, but then I hear myself and I’m proving Parker’s point. I’m proving that it would have been smart to have brought someone else along.

“What was he like?” Martin asks.

I straighten my back, sitting tall, and now I do feel like I have to prove something, so I am precise and deliberate as I describe the meeting, the pained look in his eyes, the way he implored me to help, his earnestness. I leave out the part about my finding him insanely good-looking.

“Well, he
is
an actor, Alex,” Martin says softly.

I press my lips tightly together. The suggestion that I was somehow duped makes me want to erect a wall, put up a shield. “So you think he was just putting me on?”

“It’s possible. He copped to drugging those seniors last year, so it’s not like he’s squeaky-clean.”

“Are we judging him guilty already just because he has a record?” Parker asks Martin, directing his stickler rules at someone else for a change.

“No. I’m just saying let’s not rule him out,” Martin says coolly. He is not rattled easily, certainly not by someone like Parker.

“I already ruled him out. I offered him immunity for now,” I say, standing firm, holding my ground.

“Immunity?” Martin says, and for the first time ever his voice shoots higher. “You can’t just offer him immunity. Or anyone.”

“Why not?”

“We don’t offer immunity.”

“Where does it say that?”

“Alex, this isn’t like a grand jury here,” he says.

“Right, but
I
believe him. He may not have a perfect record, but who does in any criminal-justice system? Everyone has a motive for sharing info. He wants to stay out of more trouble. He’s terrified of being pulled into this, just like Delaney. And we’re not investigating her. Plus he showed me his Annie scrip. It was totally legit. So he may be an actor, but I don’t think he’s a drug dealer.”

“He might not be a dealer, but I really don’t think we should just be doling out promises of immunity,” Martin says, and he sounds irritated.

“This isn’t some Wild West law and order, Martin. This was a measured, deliberate decision I made. Given the circumstances and given what he shared, I believe there were grounds to justify granting him immunity,” I say, like a well-trained lawyer, a veteran of the courtroom. “If it turns out he’s the culprit, obviously the immunity goes away. Let’s move on to other suspects.”

Martin nods and moves on. “So let’s get into it. Clearly we’re moving beyond the early investigation phase. Theo’s obviously a key suspect still. We have to deepen our investigation into him. We have enough concrete info to keep closer watch. We already know he’s on Annie. We know the debate team is potentially cheating, so now it’s time to figure out if he’s the one dealing and supplying to the team. We need to look for forged prescription pads, additional pill bottles, and most of all, signs of him dealing. Plus it adds up that it’s him. He has the motive. He can’t dance anymore, but he wants to compete still. He has the ability to debate. He’s a smart guy. He can hold his own with politics, issues, that sort of stuff. So debate is a natural
sport
for him to slide into—not as the team captain, not even as their best debater, but as someone who’s good enough to make the team. Only, he can’t win the Elite on his own, because it’s a team victory. So he devises a game plan to ensure the whole team can win. He starts using Annie. It ups his game. He realizes if it works for him, why not spread a little good cheer around the team? That’s just my theory, at least,” he says.

“And it’s a good one,” I say, ready to give praise where it’s due, to keep a strong front as the board.

Then Martin adds, “There’s one more reason it may be Theo. Access. If he had a knee injury so bad that it knocked him out of dancing, then he was probably on PKs for a while. Let’s say he gets started with a painkiller, maybe a little Vicodin. He likes the way it makes him feel. He goes back to the doc and gets more. Vicodin’s his summer-vacation drug, but Annie’s a much better fit for the school year. So he goes back to the doc, does a whole song and dance about how he can’t concentrate, can’t focus on schoolwork. Boom. He gets his Annie scrip.”

“I have another suggestion,” Parker says, and glances down at his notebook before clearing his throat and pushing his glasses higher up on his nose. He pauses, like he’s about to say something difficult. He breathes out, long and slow. “I hate to say it, since she’s your friend. But I think we should investigate Maia.”

I answer Parker quickly, glad that I had the foresight to already vet the accusation with my roommate. “She says they’re just rumors. And she doesn’t know anything about it.”

“What else would she say?” he says, and taps his notebook like there’s proof in it of Maia’s alleged culpability. “Let’s face it. She has the most to gain from the team’s success. Everyone knows she would pretty much give her firstborn to win the Elite and get into Harvard early. And she is notoriously ambitious.”

“Did she nab the only A in some class where you thought it was yours, Parker?” I ask.

“I have straight As in every class and have since I got here,” he shoots back.

“Well, Perfect Four-Point-Oh, we don’t prosecute people based on hunches. And all of that is extremely circumstantial evidence. In fact, it’s not even evidence at all,” I say, and now I’m pissed and I don’t bother to hide my anger. I’ve done things the right way; I’ve asked the right questions; I’ve made the right choices.

“All we have is circumstantial evidence,” Parker continues. “All we had was circumstantial evidence on Theo, and we started watching him. I’m just saying I think we should leave no stone unturned.”

“I already talked to her about this. She was reasonable and totally cool about everything. She didn’t flip out. She wasn’t defensive. Someone supplying drugs, someone setting up some massive drug ring isn’t like that. So, we’re not going to investigate her,” I repeat. Then I look to Martin. “Right?”

Martin holds my gaze, his brown eyes locked on mine. The flecks are quiet, his eyes solid brown.

“I don’t think Maia is involved,” he says heavily. “But I think we should keep our eyes and ears open in case it turns out she is connected.”

“How can you even suggest that?” I say, and now it’s my voice soaring into the stratosphere; now it’s me who’s shocked.

“I said I don’t think she’s involved. But the fact is, there is some serious shit going down on her team. And she is the captain. If it were another team, we’d have to consider the captain too, just by virtue of being the captain.”

Then there’s silence in the laundry room so thick you could bottle it. Parker breaks it. “We need to investigate her,” he says, and the majority wins. Maia is now under investigation.

Then he clears his throat and continues. “I have another suggestion. I think Anjali should be tasked with looking into Maia’s activities. After all, I think the three of us might be too close to it. And we did bring Anjali on to help with the investigation.”

I bet he never cuts in line. I bet he returns his library books on time. I bet he holds the chess rule book at Anjali’s parties and checks it before every move. He is so by the book, so in love with the letter of the law.

He is also completely right, and I hate it. I hate it because back there in the theater with Beat I felt like the leader of the Mockingbirds for the first time. It’s as if I had left last year behind me; the potholes and crags in the road had been filled in, leaving only a smooth, easy ride. But now it’s bumpy and jarring and my hands are gripped tight on the wheel, just trying to hold on again.