My heart thwacks against my chest. Xander is the other student who had to take the test. Xander failed the test. Xander got expelled for a year.
“What did you—” I shake my head and start over. “What happened when you failed?”
He leans back, his lavender eyes completely blank.
“I hope you never find out,” he says. Then he turns and stalks through the kitchen and out the back door.
Stella stares at the door for several seconds, before turning on me. “What did you—”
“You couldn’t have told me earlier?” I snap.
Her cheeks flush and I think, for the first time since we met, she’s actually embarrassed about something. Good.
“You lied,” I accuse. “About your student passing the test.”
“I didn’t,” she insists. “I was Xander’s tutor after he failed. I helped him pass on his second attempt.”
“Whatever.”
I spin and head for my room.
The roller coaster is finally getting to me. Thankfully, I make it to the safety of my room and collapse on my bed before the tears start. I think I’m going through what therapist Mom would call an emotional release. More like an emotional flood. Between the looming test and my dad’s missing record and Griffin, it’s amazing my emotions are holding together at all. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just gave up on me altogether and—
Knock, knock.
Over the pounding beat of my heart, I wipe at my tears and say, “I’m not here.”
Whoever it is doesn’t wait for a response.
“Phoebe?” Griffin asks. “I thought we were meeting at seven.”
His voice sounds perfectly normal.
Of course it does. He doesn’t know what I know—what I saw, what I felt. Why should he even suspect that I know he’s back with his ex-girlfriend? He must think he’s kept it a pretty tight secret.
I squeeze my eyes together for a second, willing—begging—my unshed tears to disappear. They are a weakness I can’t afford.
“Yeah, well,” I say, pushing up to my feet while keeping my back to him, buying myself a few more seconds. “You thought wrong.”
“What’s the matter?” He comes up behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders, trying to turn me around. He has the nerve to sound concerned. “What happened?”
I stiffen against his touch. “Nothing.”
“Are you crying?” When I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak again, he says, “You are crying.”
Despite my best efforts, he half turns me around and half slides around so we’re face-to-face. I close my eyes. I just can’t look at him right now. Not when all I see is him talking to Adara, going into the bookstore with Adara, meeting Adara at her dorm. It’s too much.
“Talk to me,” he demands.
I feel his fingers on my cheeks, wiping my sad excuse for tears away. Which only makes them fall harder.
His forehead touches mine and he whispers, “Please.”
I take several long, deep breaths.
“Where were you this afternoon?” I finally ask.
He hesitates for a split second. “I told you, I—”
My eyes fly open. “Do. Not. Lie to me.”
I step back, needing space to think clearly.
I can see him thinking. Beneath his dark curls, his bright blue eyes don’t budge from mine; he doesn’t blink. Then, after several long seconds, he closes his eyes, sucks in a deep breath, and says, “Aunt Lili and I got back and done with the stocking early. I was visiting a friend in the dorms.”
“Adara.”
He hesitates, then says, “Yes.”
“What?” I’m shocked he admitted the truth.
“Yes.” He looks like he is afraid to say more. “Yes, I was visiting Dara.”
“Why have you been lying to me?” I can hear the icy edge in my voice and I don’t like it. I don’t like how he’s making me feel right now. Jealous. With a neon capital J. “You’ve been spending all your time with her. Like yesterday. At the bookstore.”
He doesn’t show any signs of shock that I didn’t buy his story about looking for a training book.
“You’re right,” he says, and my heart tries to pound out of my chest. “I met Adara at the bookstore yesterday.”
And lied about it.
“But it’s not what you think.”
“Then tell me what it is,” I demand.
Gods, I hate how I sound like such a jealous girlfriend, but it’s not like he’s not giving me a reason to distrust. I close my eyes and suddenly I’m reliving the last time I felt like this. Junior prom. More than a year ago now, but I remember like it was yesterday.
I had known something was wrong when Justin didn’t show to pick me up. A smarter girl might have taken that as a sign, but I believed in him. Trusted him. Something must have come up. Rather than curl up with a box of tissues and a cup of self-pity, I called Cesca and got a ride with her and her date. When I climbed into the limo and saw the look of pure sympathy in her eyes, that’s when I knew.
By the time we pulled up at the glamorous Sunset Tower Hotel, I was ready for the confrontation. I stormed into the dance, scanned the room until I found Justin at a table in the far corner, and marched right up to him.
“Where were you?” I demanded.
“Let’s not do this here, Phoebe,” Justin had said. “Why don’t we go out to my car and—”