28

 

 

 

"Noooo!"

I bellow the word into the sky, leap up from the metal bleacher, and cup both hands to my cheeks in horror, looking like that freaky painting everybody knows.

Way down below, a girl in an olive green jersey is having the opposite reaction. She punches a celebratory fist into the air, cheering with her equally ecstatic teammates after scoring an easy goal.

"Crap crap crap!" I shout in frustration. "We're screwed!"

The chances of a comeback are slim, and I'm not the only one aware of this fact. Warrior Stadium's gone quiet, a defeated hush clinging to the air.

With that late goal, my team is now losing 2-0 with no more than five or so minutes to play. If it was still 1-0, all it would take is one good shot to send the match to overtime. But to make up a two-goal deficit with so little time on the clock?

Those sort of statistical improbabilities only happen in the movies.

It's Sunday morning, our first playoff game of postseason, and it's looking like it's gonna be our last. Even with the home field advantage, the girls have seemed off all game long. Tanya's missed more than a handful of wide-open shots, Anna keeps passing the ball to the other team, and even Nina, usually the heart and soul of the squad, looks lethargic and unmotivated.

I dunno what the deal is, but it's been super hard to watch.

If I was out there, I could help them turn this around. I could lead us to that miracle-movie ending. I know I could!

Maybe I can sprint down to the sideline real quick, borrow Mariana's extra jersey, sneak past Coach Addy, and—

"Excuse me, sir?" A woman behind me gives my shoulder an impatient tap. "I know you're very, um, interested in the game, but would you mind taking a seat? I can't see the field."

Orrrr I can remain up in the stands, wearing an oversized trench coat, 'm'lady' fedora, and dark sunglasses that get me mistaken for a creepy dude who's overly invested in the outcome of this match.

Unfortunately, that's the path I'm forced to take because I'm not supposed to be here in the first place. As much as my team obviously needs me, I'm stuck hiding in the crowd, trying (and apparently failing) to keep a low profile.

I grunt out a manly-sounding "sorry" and plop my butt back down.

"Come on, girls," I murmur, telepathically sending some good vibes to all my teammates. "Make it happen..."

The final minutes dwindle away, and something does happen.

No, the Warriors don't achieve the impossible and win the game, but I come to a very important conclusion.

I am not giving up on this team.

I'm not letting my scholarship slip from my fingers, I'm not transferring schools, and I'm not going to rest until I find an explanation for the faulty drug test.

I've wasted two entire weeks pouting and wallowing in self-pity—enough is enough. It's time to fight, and I refuse to go down without a serious battle for my future.

In fact, I'm getting started right now!

When that final whistle blows, I hustle down the bleachers, tripping over my coat a time or two. As I'm weaving my way through the dejected Warrior crowd, I hear someone call my name.

Two someones.

"Sydney! Hold up!"

I pivot in the direction of the voices, surprised to see Bev and Cameron waving me towards the opposite side of the parking lot.

How the heck did they recognize me in this ridiculous getup?

And also...oops.

Did the three of us have plans today?

My head's been so muddled with thoughts lately, I completely blanked on our weekly outing.

"I totally forgot it was Sunday," I say as I reach the pair. "Was I supposed to meet you guys at the Treehouse?"

"You were, but—"

Cam tries to explain, but I'm too jittery and wound-up to let him get more than a few words out.

"I'm really sorry," I interrupt, "but I can't hang out today. I need to figure out this soccer thing, and I don't think I can focus on anything else until it's resolved. It's driving me insane. Like if I sit around twiddling my thumbs any longer, I might explode!" I make a dramatic eruption gesture above my head and take a step backwards. "I'll definitely be there next weekend, okay? Cameron, call me later tonight? Y'all have a nice afternoon!"

I whip around to leave, but I don't get very far.

"Holy shit, Sydney. Chill." Cameron reaches out, wrapping a hand around my wrist and holding me captive. He shakes his head back and forth with a slight chuckle. "Would you slow down for half a second? We're here to help you with that."

"You are?"

"Yup." Cam nods before glancing down at Bev. "That was our plan for the day, wasn't it, kid?"

"Yes! We'll help you fix everything," she insists with more enthusiasm than she's ever shown. "I don't want you to go to a different school. I want you to stay here at Windhaven."

"Awh, thanks, Bev. That means a lot." I give each of them a grateful smile. "Figuring everything out might take a while, though. You two ready to do some serious detective work?"

"Hell yeah we are." Cameron's fingers intertwine with mine and he squeezes my hand.

"Detective work?" Bev's eyes flit over my outfit. "Is that why you're dressed like Sherlock Holmes?"

"Uh, sure," I say with a snort. "We'll go with that."

Pulling my hat off, I shake my head a time or two, letting my hair free.

There.

Now I look like a girl again.

"First a bank robber...now a private detective?" Gray eyes lurch skyward as Cam tugs me into his side. "You and your freaking disguises."

"What did you expect? My roommate was bound to rub off on me at some point."

"True."

He laughs and rubs my shoulder, then twists his head so only I can hear his next words. "The trench coat's kinda hot," he mumbles against my earlobe.

My head spins with a sensual buzz.

"You like it?"

"Fuck yeah I like it. I definitely wanna see you in this again..." One hand palms my ass cheek. "Preferably with nothing on underneath."

A shiver races down my spine. "It's Crimson's."

"Not anymore. Tell her its yours now," he commands. "My orders."

I giggle as I rest my head against his torso. "I'll see what I can do."

"Hello?!" Bev snaps her fingers in our direction, interrupting the hushed conversation. "I don't know what you two are whispering about, but I'm sure it's gross, so stop!"

Cameron lets out a loud guffaw.

"My bad," he says. After placing a quick kiss on my temple—followed by an exaggerated gagging noise from Bev—he loosens his grip on me. "No more distractions. I swear."

"Me too." I nod. Although a 'distraction' from Cameron sounds oh so tempting, we have other things to tend to at the moment. "We need to get to the bottom of this."

"What first?" Bev asks eagerly. "Where do we start?"

"I have an idea," I say as I flip my sunglasses to the top of my head. "I spent so much time convinced there was a problem with the actual test, but I've finally surrendered to the fact that someone definitely drugged me. No doubt about it." The realization gives me a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I push it aside and continue. "I'm almost positive I know where it happened: the Treehouse Terror Party."

"Shit." Cam curses under his breath. "You're right. You were so out of it that night."

"I can't remember the second half of the evening. It's all blurry snippets and hazy snapshots. I drank a bunch, but not enough to make me blackout like that."

His mouth dips into a frown. "How the hell did I not realize it? I thought you were just completely wasted..." He grabs the back of his neck in obvious frustration. "I shouldn't have let you out of my goddamn sight that night."

"It's not your fault, Cameron," I assure him. "It's not your responsibility to watch out for me."

His eyes are still narrowed as he shakes his head in disagreement. "I could've prevented it from ever happening."

He's so protective, that natural desire to keep me safe evident in his every word. My heart swells with gratitude.

"Woulda, coulda, shoulda!" Bev yells as she throws her hands in the air haphazardly. "It doesn't matter anymore. What's done is done. We can't change the past, but we can fix the future."

"Wise words for someone so young." I slant my head. "Are you sure you're only twelve?"

She lifts her chin a smidge. "I'll be thirteen next week."

"Ah. That explains it." I shoot her a teasing grin before letting my palms slap against my thighs. "Okay. So the Halloween Party. That's what we have to go on so far. Now what?"

"We could retrace your steps," Bev suggests.

"Good plan," Cam agrees and turns to me. "Who did you talk to first? We'll start there."

"Um, let me think..." The lightbulb illuminates quickly. "Ellie! She was the first one we ran into that night."

"El? That's perfect." Optimism gleams in his eyes. "She always spends parties dashing around playing hostess, making sure people have enough to eat and drink and shit like that. She's gotta have some info for us. Let's go find her."

We track Ellie down at the Treehouse baking an apple pie. She's buzzing around the kitchen, looking picture-perfect as usual. Her chestnut hair's curled and pulled back with a ribbon, a yellow sundress hugs her slender frame, and her red lips are on point.

Before we can even open our mouths, she's already talking our ears off.

She gushes over me and Cameron as she rolls out the crust.

"Call me crazy, but I had a feeling about the two of you! Do you know how long I've been dying for Cam to get himself a good girl? Ages! I was fixin' to take matters into my own hands if he didn't find someone soon!"

And then she threatens Cam as she smooths the dough into a glass pie pan and crimps the edges.

"You treat her right, you hear me? I won't hesitate to phone Mr. Hanson and let him know what's up. Miss Erika, too, and she might be even scarier than your coach when she gets riled up. I'll be keeping an eye out!"

Once she puts the crust in for a blind bake, she finally takes a breath and we're able to interrogate her about the party.

Unfortunately, it leads to a dead-end.

"I'm sorry, y'all, but I only saw Sydney once that night." She stirs the cinnamon-scented filling, then wipes her hands on her frilly apron. She gives us a remorseful glance, a dusting of white flour on her cheek and nose. "Parker has a bad habit of getting waaay too drunk at that particular party, so I was in babysitter mode for a good portion of the evening. I wish I could be more help. I really do."

"It's okay," I tell her, trying to mask my disappointment.

I was hoping she'd have a revealing detail or helpful clue for us.

"I could ask Liam if he saw anything suspicious," she offers. "I'll call him up when I'm finished in here if y'all'd like."

"That'd be great," Cam says. "Thanks, Peaches."

"Of course!"

We exit the kitchen, the sounds of the oven timer and Ellie insisting we come back later for a slice following us out of the Main House.

As we leave the property, we run into Rayne and Lexie at the front gate. We grill them for ten minutes straight, asking each girl at least a dozen questions about the party.

No dice.

"That didn't go as planned," Bev says as we follow Cam down the off-campus street.

"Not at all," I grumble.

"No kidding. I figured we'd get something outta one of them." Cameron turns around, walking backwards as he meets my gaze. "Who's next?"

"Mariana." I pull out my phone and send my teammate a quick where are you? text. "She was with me a good chunk of the party. Maybe she'll have some intel."

My cell vibrates with a response—Mari's hunkered down at the library, so we head towards Windhaven.

"Sydney!" she whisper-yells when we walk inside the quiet building. "This way!"

She waves us to a large table in the corner. Still wearing her home jersey and dirty cleats, she must've come straight here after the disappointing loss.

Drowning post-game sorrows with an intense study session?

Nothing screams 'Mariana' more than that.

"What's going on?" She closes the textbook in front of her, leaning forward conspiratorially as the three of us take a seat. "Are you finally gonna tell me why you got suspended?!"

My suspension from the squad was cited as a vague "violation of team rules". Actual details were kept confidential from my teammates, and I was too upset to respond to Mari's inquiries for more info. She's still in the dark about what went down, but not for long.

Over the next five minutes, I explain everything. How I failed two tests. That I was certain it was a technical error. How I eventually realized it wasn't an accident or mistake—some P.O.S. actually drugged me.

By the time I finish, Mariana's eyes are bugging out of her head.

"Holy cow." She sounds as horrified as she looks. "That's really scary!"

I nod. "Extremely."

"You remember anything weird from that night?" Cam asks her. "Anything out of the ordinary?"

"Hmm." She clicks her tongue twice. "Nothing in particular stood out."

"Maybe you can just tell us everything you remember from the party, weird or not," Bev pipes up.

"Yeah. Just, like, go in chronological order or something," I instruct. "That could help."

"Sure, I can do that. Let's see..."

She pushes her cat-eye reading glasses up the bridge of her nose and begins the recollection.

"First, we took those Jello shots, remember? Delicious! Next, we drank and talked with Crimson for a while. We did a round at the piñata station and oh gosh. I accidentally hit that poor boy in the stomach with the bat during my turn." She cringes. "That was unfortunate, but his broken ribs should heal in a month or two. Anyway, after that we went to the Redhouse and saw..." Her cheeks turn bright pink and she clears her throat. "Uh, I mean we went to the bathroom. Then you danced with that guy dressed as a carrot." Her forehead crinkles. "Actually, it was right after that when you seemed incredibly drunk. You started stumbling everywhere, speaking incoherent nonsense, and—"

"Oh my God!" I suddenly shout. "He had my drink! It was him!"

I leap from my chair at the realization. The unstable piece of furniture crashes to the floor, making a noise so dang loud everyone in the room sends an annoyed scowl my way.

"Ahem!" The very stern-looking librarian slaps a ruler against her desk and points it at me. "Silence in the library!"

"Yes ma'am. I'm sorry! Won't happen again!"

"Shush!"

I make a zip-lips motion, grab my chair from the ground, and quickly sit back down.

Cameron gives me a puzzled glance. "What do you mean, babe? He had your drink?"

"Yes!" It takes herculean effort to keep my voice at an inside-appropriate volume. "When he came up to us, I must've put my drink on the table or something. Right before we went to dance, he handed it to me. I don't know how long he had it in his possession, but it was more than enough time to slip some junk in there."

Now it's Cam's turn to break the rules.

"That fucking asshole—"

"SILENCE!" the librarian bellows. "ONE MORE PEEP AND YOU FOUR ARE OUT THE DOOR!"

Not sure why she's allowed to yell at the top of her lungs, but okay.

"This is great news, you guys," I whisper excitedly. "Not that he put pills in my punch, obviously, because that's super messed-up. But now that we know exactly what happened, I'll get my spot back on the team! And I'll be able to get my scholarship, I'll stay at Windhaven, and..."

"Um, Sydney?"

Mariana interrupts my animated predictions.

I respond with an impatient "What?"

"I hate to burst your bubble, but how are you going to prove he spiked your drink?" She slowly shakes her head. "I highly doubt he's gonna admit to drugging you. It's your word against his, and as screwed up as it is, I don't think it's going to be enough."

Shit.

She's right.

Cameron and I immediately exchange a look, one that says we both understand the inevitable.

I am totally fucked.

 

 

The walk back to my dorm is uncharacteristically quiet. Bev and I exchange a few words, but Cameron doesn't utter a peep. His shoulders are tense, jaw clenched like he's too pissed off to speak.

"Hi, Crimson," I mumble as we enter my room.

She lifts a hand in greeting, eyes never straying from her laptop. Bev ambles up behind my roommate, watching the computer screen with intrigue while Cameron and I sit on my squeaky bed.

We've barely been seated a minute when Cam abruptly stands.

"I'm gonna go talk to him," he announces. "Right now."

"Who?"

"That fucking vegetable." Narrowed eyes meet mine as he cracks his knuckles. "What's his name?"

"Derek? David? I can't remember." I flop back on the mattress helplessly. "I don't even know what he really looked like, Cameron. How are you going to track him down?"

"I'll ask around," he says. "I'm sure somebody can point me in the right direction."

"Okay, and if you find him, then what? What are you gonna say to him?"

"That if he doesn't fess up, I'm gonna beat his ass." He cocks his head. "Actually, if he does fess up, I'm gonna beat his ass, too. Nothing the dude says is gonna end in anything other than an ass-beating."

"Cam." I manage a small smile. "You can't do that. I won't let you do that. I don't want you getting in trouble just before your playoff games start. One of us is already banned from soccer; we don't need you missing the College Cup, too."

"Screw all that. The guy fucking drugged you, Sydney." He begins to pace in front of the bed, shaking his head repeatedly. "You expect me to sit here and not do anything? No. Not a damn chance. I mean, who knows what he tried to do to you that night." His handsome face goes dark. "Who knows what he did do. Fuck."

Something about that sentence triggers a reaction inside my head. Memories from Halloween suddenly spring to the surface, scenes that were once blurry now clear as day.

"He didn't do anything."

"What?"

"He left." I prop myself up on my elbows, vocalizing the flashbacks as they flood my mind. "We danced for a few songs, talked about school...he asked if he could kiss me at one point—"

Cam makes a possessive sound in the back of his throat, jealousy flaring in his gray eyes. I reach out and grab his hand, pulling him back onto the bed with me.

"—and I said no, of course. And he said okay. No pushing, no rude comments or attempts to convince me...After another song, he said he had class in the morning and had to go. Thanked me for the dance, found his friend dressed like a piece of broccoli, and I watched them both leave the property. That was it."

As the details come back to me, I realize our hasty accusation isn't adding up.

"It doesn't make any sense." I raise a perplexed brow. "If he spiked my drink, why would he just leave?"

"Maybe he realized how fucked-up it was and tried to get out of there. Guilty conscience or something," Cam offers. "Or maybe he's just a sick fuck who gets off on slipping roofies in girls' drinks."

"I don't know." I shake my head. "He wasn't a malicious guy. He told me he's on the Dean's List and has a full-ride academic scholarship. Not saying those prevent you from being a drink-spiker, but he just really didn't seem the type."

"Yeah...I get what you're saying." Cameron scratches the crown of his head. "But if it wasn't him, who the hell was it?"

"Let me just grab my long list of enemies and we can go down the line," I quip. "Figure out which one is hell-bent on ruining my life."

Cameron whips his head towards me, looking incredibly serious.

"Enemies," he repeats in a contemplative tone.

"I'm joking, Cam," I say. "Bad joke."

But he isn't listening.

His curious gaze latches onto mine. "I never asked you, but how did Vaughn find out about us? I'm guessing you didn't tell him."

He lifts a brow in questioning, and I confirm his assumption.

"Did he say who did?"

I nod. "He mentioned a name, but I didn't recognize it. I also didn't think twice about it because there was so much other shit going on at the time."

"What was the name?"

"Some girl named Felicity."

"Shit."

His reaction brings a frown to my face.

"What?" I prod. "Do you know her?"

"No, not really. But she's a Goal Girl."

His mouth forms a tight line.

My brow creases, a "so what" on the tip of my tongue, but suddenly I'm connecting the dots.

She's a Goal Girl.

"Hey, Sydney," Bev interrupts my thoughts. "There you are!"

Cam and I turn her way, watching as she nods her head at Crimson's computer screen.

"You two. Come here," Crimson insists. She closes her eyes a moment, opening them back up with a tight nod. "Yes. Spirit is telling me you need to see this."

We walk over, a still-image of me in my bumble bee costume greeting us.

"What is it?" Cam asks my roomie.

"Footage from the party," she explains as she double-clicks something on the movie-making software. "It's been sitting on my computer for weeks. I finally have a spare moment to edit it."

Oh yeah.

I totally forgot she spent the whole night filming.

She presses Play, and the four of us watch as I pour the Pumpkin Punch from multiple angles. The takes are actually really professional looking, Crimson's talent shining through.

"Who's that?" Bev points at a girl in icy blue who's just entered the frame.

I feel Cam tense up beside me, and my body's doing the exact same.

Julie.

We observe the scene, watching as I lift the solo cup to my mouth for a sip, gasping when Julie body-checks me like it's a freaking hockey game.

"She ran into you on purpose," Bev says.

She 100% did. "I didn't see you there" my ass!

"You didn't tell me about this," Cam mumbles with a frown.

"I forgot," I admit. "I didn't think anything of it at the time."

On the screen, a third of my drink flies out, splashing all over my chest and arm. Julie puts on a concerned facade as she quickly blots a napkin over my damp skin.

"Wait," Cameron says suddenly. He moves directly behind Crimson, bending over as he squints at the laptop. "Zoom in on Julie's other hand," he instructs. "The one that's not wiping up the mess."

Crimson does what he says. The footage plays over again, but this time we're not looking at me. We're looking at her. With stealthy, calculated movements, she drops four pills into my cup.

Silence overtakes the dorm as we watch the clip one more time, making sure we're all seeing the same thing, and we most certainly are.

The video evidence is undeniable.

Julie drugged me.

"Fuck." Cameron curses and stands up straight, furious at what he's just witnessed. "That fucking bitch."

"I can't believe it," I mutter in shock. "She must have seen us together that day at the concession stand."

Cam grabs the back of his neck, tugging at the short strands of hair there before turning his livid gaze on Crimson.

"Back-up that footage," he commands in a gruff voice. "Multiple places. That's our lifeline."

"Of course." She nods, immediately obeying his demand.

"Bev." Cam turns to the girl. "Stay here with Sydney for a little while. I've got something to take care of."

As he heads for the door, a man on a mission, I quickly chase after him.

"Don't you want me to come with you?" I ask. "I could help?"

"No." He shakes his head and emits a deep, guilty exhale. "This is my fucking fault, Syd. I'm the reason for this mess, and I'm gonna get you out of it. You sit back and let me handle things."

"Are you sure?"

"Trust me. I've got it under control," he says with confidence. Large hands come to rest on my shoulders, a look of conviction in his eyes as he gently squeezes. "Don't pack your bags, Baby Blue. You're gonna be at Windhaven for the next three years."

As he leaves the room, determination in his gait, I feel a massive whoosh of relief.

Because I know everything's going to be just fine.