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Chapter Twenty-One

Fledglings,

As promised, I come bearing more tasty worms in the form of gossip! Our dearest theater darling, Dot Bennett, has caused quite a stir among the drama club with her new boyfriend. That’s right—boyfriend. No, your eyes don’t deceive you as you read. And you guessed it! It’s Zayne Silverman, who was caught last week attacking her previous beau, Carlton Peters. More on that later.

Dot and Zayne haven’t left one another’s side the past week, during which they’ve been spotted holding hands, sharing food from their lunches, and—dare I say it—kissing on campus!

None of this has gone unnoticed by Carlton, who claimed he intends to press charges against Zayne for his assault last week! Hear it for yourself, right in the video! If he’s successful with his claims, Zayne can kiss his spot at Underwood Academy goodbye! Best of luck to him. It seems like he’ll need it.

In other news, the matter of Rue Sullivan’s pathetic crush has not been forgotten. It may seem like old news, but just wait until you hear who she’s pining after! It’s none other than Carlton himself! But unlucky for Rue, he’s already found his rebound in Meredith Evans!

My, what a tangled web of deception and betrayal the theater students’ lives have become. And all with Fallbrook’s long awaited, upcoming winter production a mere week away!

Lucky for you, I’m here to tell you all about it.

Yours truly,

Little Birdie

“No!” I drop my sandwich onto my lunch tray.

“What?” Zayne looks around. “What’s the matter?”

“Little Birdie.” I shove my phone in Zayne’s face. “That stupid bird told everyone Rue has a crush on Carlton.” I know I should be upset that my relationship with Zayne is also out on the dreadful site, but it’s not like I’ve been hiding it well. At least I’ve had a week of no gossip about me and Zayne. Rue, however, is probably devastated her secret is out.

“She does?” He frowns. “I guess she can come clean now, right?”

“She wanted to talk to him herself. I should go find her. See if she’s okay.” I stand up and shoulder on my backpack.

“Want me to come?” Zayne starts to push his chair back.

“That’s okay. This is girl talk.” I lean over and kiss his cheek. But when I start to pull away, he takes my face in his hands and brings me back for another kiss, this time on his mouth. His lips are so soft. I hesitate before pulling away because staying here and kissing him until the bell rings sounds great.

But I need to go find Rue.

So, I untangle myself from Zayne. “Bye,” he says. I wave at him, still wearing a hazy half-grin—an after-effect from kissing him.

I walk toward the lockers, hoping to find Rue in one of the corridors along the way. I scour each hall for her, about to text her asking where she is, but I spot Jude from the corner of my eye. My mind flashes to Little Birdie’s latest post, to the video of Zayne and Carlton fighting. Thanks to the video, Carlton has proof that he and Zayne fought. His case to press charges is so much stronger because of it. From what Zayne told me, Underwood has strict rules about their students’ behavior. Carlton may have started the fight, but from the way in looks in the video, Zayne could be the one attacking Carlton because it doesn’t show who started it. If he plans on following through with the threat he made on Halloween, Zayne could lose his dream.

My vision goes red.

I march over to Jude, who is retrieving a textbook from his locker. He doesn’t seem to notice that I’m approaching, and when his textbook is in his hand, I slam his locker shut as hard as I can.

He jumps. “Woah!”

“Why would you send that video from the party to Little Birdie? I thought you were Zayne’s friend!” I briefly wonder how this outburst of mine will look to anyone who’s watching before deciding I don’t care. Zayne is more important.

“Video? I didn’t send a video.” He straightens his glasses and shrugs like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

I roll my eyes. “Come on. I know it was you. I was there when you recorded it.”

“It wasn’t me.” He arches his brow and shrugs. It makes my blood boil. “And you can’t prove that it was. I even cut out the part of the video where you said my name.”

“I don’t get it. Why?” I drop my hands down to my sides. “I don’t understand what you’d gain from doing something like that? Does Little Birdie offer some kind of reward for sending in information? There can’t have been a good reason for you to do it, unless…” I squint my eyes at him, recalling how he had been there that day at the pumpkin patch, working the Ferris wheel Zayne and I rode together. He could have easily snapped the pictures that day. He was probably the one to send it in. Unless… “Unless you are Little Birdie.” My eyes widen. “You’re Little Birdie. Aren’t you?”

Jude scoffs. “Of course not. Now you’re just being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” I ask. “It’s not like you would admit it. Especially since that would make you responsible for a whole lot of trouble. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Jude looks taken aback. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am!” My voice echoes around the wing, bouncing off the lockers and stone walls surrounding us. I don’t care that I’m yelling. I don’t care that people are starting to look, to stare at the spectacle I’m making. All I care about is finding out the truth. And I can’t help but believe that Jude being Little Birdie happens to make perfect sense.

“Dottie!” A voice exclaims. I glance over my shoulder to find Lenny sauntering over, a calm grin on his face.

“Hi, Lenny. I’m kind of in the middle of something right now.”

Jude scratches his curly head. “She’s completely nuts.”

I point at him. “ You, be quiet. I know you’re lying and I’m going to get to the bottom of it.” I know I do sound a little crazy at this point, but it feels like uncovering Little Birdie’s identity will prevent any more problems from arising. “Zayne could be in legal trouble now, thanks to you.”

At that, he frowns. “I thought that was all talk. He isn’t really in trouble, is he?”

“Who knows? He might be, if Carlton decides to press charges.”

Jude holds his hands up. “Look, Dot, I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”

“I want to hear the truth.”

“Hey,” Lenny says. “Bardot-Who-Goes-By-Dot? Maybe we should go.”

“No, Lenny. I’m dealing with this liar right now.”

He stares at Jude with new interest. “Maybe he’s a vampire.” He takes my arm, pulling me back the way I came. “Come on. Let’s go get some vervain in you before he tries to erase your memories.”

I take a deep breath, knowing there’s no use trying to argue to Lenny that we aren’t living in The Vampire Diaries. “Okay. Let’s go.”

But before we walk away, I stare Jude down one last time. In that one glance, I communicate to him everything I want to say. I’m watching you. I’m onto you. And if you cross me and my friends again, I’ll know who it was.

As I leave with Lenny, I have no choice but to hope my message is received, loud and clear.

“Tell me again what Meredith said. And slow down this time.”

Rue’s voice cracks as she repeats herself. Her voice buzzes in my ear because of how close I’m pressing the phone against it. “She said she felt uncomfortable talking to me.” She calms herself with a few breaths. “I asked her if we could talk, and she said things are too awkward now, considering everything. Apparently, she and Carlton are dating now. Mabel had to hug me because I started crying.”

I close my eyes. “Wow.”

“I don’t know what to do.”

I wince. “Just give it time, I guess. That’s all you can do. I have a feeling if you push too hard it might make things worse.”

“Tell me about something else,” she says frantically. “Please. I need to take my mind off how much of a fool I feel like right now.”

“Rue, it’s okay. Meredith will come around, and so will Carlton.”

“Please, Dot,” she says. “Distract me.”

My mind scatters in a thousand directions. “Um, okay. I made a fool of myself today, too. I yelled at Jude in the hallways and accused him of being Little Birdie.”

“What? Why?”

“For sending that video from the party in.”

“So, you told him you think he’s Little Birdie and yelled at him?” She tries to hide a laugh. Relief loosens my joints.

“I just snapped. It’s like all this Little Birdie nonsense has gotten to my head.” I use the side of my head to hold my phone in place. I change out of my school clothes into a fitted pair of jeans and a tucked in, gray turtleneck. “I shouldn’t have done that, though. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Jude will be fine. Whether or not he’s Little Birdie, he definitely sent in that video, and probably the picture of you and Zayne on the Ferris wheel, too, now that you mention it. All you did was confront him. I see nothing wrong with that.”

“I guess.” I try to shove down the heavy guilt in my stomach. “But he’s Zayne’s friend. I feel kinda bad.”

“Speaking of Zayne,” she says, jumping on the change of topic. “Where is he taking you for your first date?”

I glance at my reflection in my mirror, biting my lip in anticipation. “I don’t know. It’s a surprise.”

“You better tell me all about it when you get back,” she says. “I’m going to need a fresh, new distraction.”

“Sure,” I mutter. “If you don’t hear about it from Little Birdie first.”

Beau knocks on my door. “Dot?”

“I’ll call you later, Rue,” I say into the phone.

“Bye,” she says, and I hang up.

Beau opens the door, and I frown when I notice his brows drawn together. His mouth pinched together in worry. “What’s up?”

“Have you talked to Aunt Lucille?”

I try to think back to my last conversation with my aunt, but I come up empty. “No. But I’ve been in contact with Mom. She’s supposed to come home tomorrow because the play is next week. I can’t believe we get to see her. I know I was worried before about her not being ready to come home, but I think it’s been long enough, don’t you?”

“I guess,” Beau says, waving my chatter away with his hand. “But have you talked to Aunt Lucille ?”

“I already said no.” I feel a prick of irritation at him. Mom is coming home. Mom. It’s been so long since we’ve seen her. I don’t want anything to ruin it.

“Well, neither have I,” he says. “She hasn’t returned any of my messages, and I think it’s fishy. What are the odds that I can’t get ahold of her right before Mom comes home?”

“What does it matter, Beau?” I freshen my mascara with a new coat while he prattles on.

“It matters a lot. What if Mom isn’t ready to come home? Shouldn’t we talk to Aunt Lucille first? Find out if she’s being honest about her progress?”

“I get why you’re worried, but I trust Mom. And so should you.” The words come out a little harsher than I intend them, especially since I don’t fully trust Mom’s judgement, but I don’t care. I need to see her. I miss her. It’s been longer than any of us has wanted, and part of me is worried her coming back is too good to be true. In fact, I’m much more worried about her not showing up at all than lying about her progress. She wouldn’t do something like that after all this time.

I refuse to let Beau’s cynical suspicions become my worries, too.

“I’m trying to get ready for a date. So, if there’s anything else you want to dissect, maybe you should call Dad.”

“Whatever,” he mutters. He stomps out of my room and slams the door. A pinprick of guilt pokes me, but my desire to see Mom is stronger. Let Beau overthink things. He’ll see. Everything will be fine. Mom will come home, she’ll see the play, and then she’ll return to Aunt Lucille’s to continue treatment. If she were in an actual rehabilitation facility, coming home might not be an option yet. He should be grateful.

My phone rings. When I see Zayne’s name on the screen, butterflies dance in my stomach. I answer his call, shaking away my irritation with Beau so I don’t sound rude when I talk. “Are you here?”

“Yeah, I’m right outside,” he says. “You ready?”

“Just about. See you in a minute.” I hang up the phone and grab my purse. I add a scarf and leather jacket to my outfit before heading outside. Zayne is sitting in his idle car, parked on the street in front of my house. When I get in the passenger seat, I notice he’s wearing a grey shirt with buttons, and jeans. “You look nice.”

He tugs on the end of one of my braids. “So do you.”

“Now do I get to know where we’re going?”

“Nope.” He flashes a grin. “But the sooner you put your seatbelt on, the sooner you’ll get to find out.”

“Fine.” A smile tugs at my lips as he starts driving. “I’m so excited to see my mom tomorrow.”

“I bet. I can’t wait to meet her.”

“She’ll like you.”

“She’s okay with you having a boyfriend?”

I laugh. “Oh, yeah. My mom isn’t very strict. Never has been. She’s supportive to the end. Same with my dad.”

“You’re lucky to have parents like that,” he says. “Not many others do.”

“I know.” I stare at my lap. I can’t help that my mind goes to Carlton. I know how much pressure his parents put on him to lead the life they envisioned for him. I’m not sure if he wants it too, or if everything he does, if all his efforts are exhausted to make his parents proud.

Zayne parks in front of a building with a flashing neon sign in the window that reads Nickel City.

“What’s this place?” I ask, squinting at the window, trying to peek inside. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“Somehow I knew that would be the case.” Zayne offers me a sideways grin. “This, Dot, is the best place in Boston to have some fun.”

He gets out of the car, and my stomach somersaults when he walks around to open my door for me. The cold wind stings my cheeks, blowing my scarf around. I step out, blushing as he takes my hand. “Is it made out of nickels or something?”

He shakes his head. “No. It’s full of really fun games, and each one only costs a nickel to play.”

“Huh.”

“Don’t judge it until you’ve played.” He taps my nose. “And try not to get attached either. This place is closing down for good in a few months.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “Not enough business, I guess. It’s a shame. I’ve been coming here since I was a kid.”

I look at the retro-style building, complete with a giant, illustrated nickel painted on the window, and try to imagine Zayne coming here as a kid, probably with Lenny, excited and holding a bag of nickels. I can’t help but smile. “Let’s go play!”

He smiles widely and puts his arm around my shoulder. “I’m going to kick your butt at air hockey.”

“Probably,” I agree. “I suck at air hockey.”

“Woah. Don’t go doubting yourself already. At least put on a poker face. Make me think the match will be a challenge.”

I laugh. “Sorry. Tonight is our break from acting, remember?”

Zayne shakes his head in mock sadness as we walk inside. “But that’s the best way to be a good actor. To be acting at all times. Even on your day off.”

I know he’s joking, but the words bring me back to Rue’s statement about Fallbrook actors dating each other to improve their skills. Now that I’m thinking about it again, it’s hard to stop. I try to smile, but it feels too forced, so I let it drop from my face.

Zayne doesn’t seem to notice. He’s inserting his debit card into a vending machine, which sprays out a pile of nickels for us to play games with.

The interior of this place has fun, bright orange carpet with blue accent walls. A variety of arcade-style games are peppered throughout the space, and there’s a prize counter along the far back wall. A cluster of younger kids are currently dominating the virtual-reality station. A mom and toddler are trying their hand at a game with a gopher head appearing through one of several holes at random. As soon as it appears through one, the toddler bops it on the head with the attached hammer and laughs. A lone older man is in a concentrated trance as he tries to get his nickel to land on a bullseye slot from its narrow entry point.

Zayne and I make our way to the air hockey table, and he puts a nickel in. “You’re going down,” he says with a straight face.

I laugh, some of the uneasiness I’m experiencing falling away. “Probably.”

I pick up the plastic paddle and ready myself for him to shoot the puck at my goal. I’m ready to block him, tensed and waiting, but somehow he scores anyway.

“Wow,” says Zayne. “You weren’t kidding.”

I cringe. “Told you.”

We play for a grand total of five minutes before victory is his. And when he wins at the next three different games we play, I start to see a pattern form. “You know, I’m not sure this place is what it’s cracked up to be after all.”

Zayne smirks. “Don’t be a sore loser.” He pulls me in by the hand and kisses me. I shut my eyes, letting my hands slide out of his and up the front of his shirt until they reach his face. This is so much better than playing stupid games , I think, and start to pull away to tell him that, when I see someone staring hard at us over Zayne’s shoulder.

My posture goes rigid.

Carlton.