“Why wouldn’t they just call if they wanted to see me?” A new song started, louder, and I leaned in close to Jack.
“They weren’t sure of your identity, so I was sent to verify the information,” he said.
And then it hit me. Jack Bishop was at Lakehaven High to spy on me. All this time—sitting next to me in class, talking about our families, that photo—had been surveillance. God, he’d probably asked me to prom because the person on the phone told him Stellan would be here tonight. After everything else he’d just told me, it shouldn’t matter, but all of a sudden, I couldn’t meet his eyes. I didn’t want him to see the well of humiliation spilling over in mine.
I stood up abruptly and made my way around the table, running my fingertips over the backs of the chairs. “Then who is he?” I pointed to Stellan. “And who is this family that they’d do that rather than calling? Or e-mailing? Or writing a letter on fancy stationery?”
“They run your world, sweetheart.” Stellan strolled up, slipping his phone into a pocket inside his jacket. I saw that the teachers had left.
Jack jumped to standing. “Stellan.” He cast his eyes toward the group of kids dancing nearest to us. “Not now.”
“Like, they’re in the government?” I’d always pictured my dad as a regular guy who ran from the responsibility of being a father, but maybe his family was rich and powerful, and they’d sent my non–rich and powerful mom off with a little hush money so they wouldn’t have to deal with his illegitimate kid.
“Hey,” a giggling voice said. Three of the prom princesses pounced on Stellan, their sashes proudly displayed against their fake tans and sequined dresses. “Do you go to Brickfield?” Jessa Marin, in a pastel pink gown with wide cutouts at the midriff, batted her eyes and touched his arm.
Jack put a hand on my back and steered me toward the door. I shook him off. “Where are they?” I repeated. “If I agree to meet them, where are we going?”
He didn’t answer, and I turned to see him stopped dead, his face illuminated by the cool blue glare of his phone.
“What?” I said.
Stellan watched us over the heads of the three girls as Jack made a call. Over the music, I heard the very faint ding of voice mail picking up. Jack cursed quietly. “Call me back,” he said, shooting an uneasy glance at Stellan, then at me.
I crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s going on now?”
“I might ask you the same thing,” he said under his breath, then slipped the phone into the breast pocket of his jacket. “Let’s just go. Quickly.”
I twisted my locket around my fingers. “I really don’t know if this is a good idea—”
Jack faced me. “Avery, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to be like this, but they want to know you. You’ll want to know them. I promise, it’ll be all right. I’ll make sure of it.”
If I did this, it wouldn’t be because of promises from him. I wished I could call my mom, but I clearly couldn’t count on her to tell the truth.
Let myself live a little. Wasn’t that what tonight was about? This would be living more than a little. This could change my life.
“All right,” I said. I let go of my locket, and my fingertips tingled. “Okay.”
Jack started toward the door immediately.
Stellan extracted himself from the girls and came after us.
“Is he going to try to hurt us?” I said, glancing backward over my shoulder. “Should you call the police or something?”
Jack didn’t answer, but as we passed the photographer, he slowed and took out his phone again. His eyes darted from the phone, to the gym doors, to the phone . . . to me. “No, he won’t hurt you. He’d get in trouble if he did anything to you.” He clicked his phone off, then rubbed his forearm with his opposite hand and cursed again, not so softly this time. “Go with him.”
I stared at him. “Excuse me?”
Jack scrubbed both hands through his thick dark hair and shot a pained glance at Stellan. “Don’t tell him anything.”
“What? No way. What did that text say?” I was starting to panic. “He doesn’t even work for my family, does he?”
“For you, it’s practically the same,” he murmured. “The Saxons will be there tomorrow, and I will, too. You’ll be fine until then.”
He raised his voice as Stellan approached. “If you’re going to be this difficult, she’s yours,” he said. “We’ll collect her later.”
I glared at Jack. First he’d spied on me, now he was abandoning me? “You can’t just decide to let him have me,” I said. “Tell me where to find my family and I’ll go meet them myself. I have a car.”
Stellan laughed. “She’s funny,” he said, and then turned to me, the smile falling off his face. “Listen, if you are who he claims you are, you’ll meet them soon enough, and everyone will be happy.”
I glared daggers at Jack, whose eyes pleaded with me. It seemed like he was telling the truth about this. If going with Stellan was what I had to do to meet my family, I guessed I would.
“Okay,” I said.
“Finally.” Stellan propelled me toward the back door.
And then I remembered something. Jack had said he’d see me tomorrow. “Where are we going?” I asked Stellan. If we were going as far as Minneapolis or something, my mom really would kill me.
We stepped into the parking lot, and Stellan opened the passenger door of a little black car parked in the principal’s space. I got in. “Parlez-vous français, cherie?” he said, and slammed the door.
CHAPTER 8
The plane pitched, and I grabbed the armrests so hard, my fingernails hurt, like holding on would save me if we fell from the sky.
France. We were going to France. In a matter of hours, I’d gone from moving to Nowhere, Maine, to this. Visions of summers in Europe with exotic, wealthy relatives danced in my head. I knew I was getting ahead of myself—they probably just wanted to satisfy their curiosity and send me back home with a souvenir key chain.
But Stellan hadn’t taken me to a regular airport. We were on a private plane nicer than any house I’d ever lived in. And not only that, but the second I’d heard we were going to France, I’d told Stellan I didn’t have a passport.