Love Me, Love Me Not Page 24

“That’s pretty,” Sara says, touching the fabric. “I might need to borrow that sometime,” she adds, rocking her shoulder into me.

  I smile at her and try to ignore the emotions bubbling up inside of me. It’s not a good feeling. If the last gift made me feel like I aced a test by cheating, this one makes me feel like I aced an entire class by cheating. On the surface, it seems wonderful, but underneath, I’ll always know the truth about them. And I’ll always think about what they did when I wear the outfit.

  The next box is from the Campbells, too. A hundred-dollar gift card. Now I feel like I got into an Ivy League college by cheating. I can’t spend their money now. There’s no way.

  I slip the gift card into the makeup toolbox and hope Sara will find a good use for it.

  With a sigh, I check the tags of the final two boxes. The sigh turns into a groan when I read the name. Brad.

  He got me the blue fleece I admired during one of our first trips to the mall and a T-shirt with the words DUKE FOOTBALL. He also attached a note:

  I decided on Duke. Dad freaked, but I stood my ground. He’s coming around. Hopefully I can give you a tour of the campus sometime. Please call or write. Miss you—Brad

  I drop the note back into the box and stare at the T-shirt. I so did not expect him to go to Duke after what happened with me. I figured he learned his lesson and would let his dad dictate everything from college to career to marriage. Even kids. If Gil says one baby is the perfect number, then it must be the perfect number.

  I smile, imagining Brad standing up to him again, like he did in the hotel, except this time, he seems to have won. Did Gil scream or just give Brad that silent look that says a million things all at once? Did Gigi say anything? How did Brad spin it?

  Crap.

  What am I doing?

  I don’t care how the conversation went. They kicked me out. They didn’t want me as part of their lives anymore, so I shouldn’t care what happened when he told his parents.

  I focus back on the pile of things around me. All that’s left is the card, and I can’t imagine who it’s from. I tear it open and quickly read the cover before checking inside. As soon as I do, a five-dollar Dollar Tree gift card falls out and then I see the name of the sender. No freaking way.

  Heard you got kicked out of your latest place. Guess we’re not so different after all. Hope the group home isn’t as horrible as I’ve heard. Keep up your grades. Maybe you really can graduate. Mom

  I stare at the card, my jaw practically touching the ground. I’m shocked she even thought of me, let alone spent money on me.

  I reread the note and feel a lump in my throat, especially with the last sentence. She never paid much attention to my life, but every now and again she would take interest in school and ask me if I was failing. I always thought she was putting me down, like she expected me to fail, but maybe, in her own weird, twisted way, that was her being proud?

  I drop the card and lean back on my elbows as I watch everyone else show off their presents. A year ago, I never would’ve been able to predict this was what my Christmas would look like. Even a month ago, I wouldn’t have been able to predict it, although my vision then would’ve been much more Leave It to Beaver, Campbell style. This isn’t … bad. It’s better than what it would’ve been like with my mom, but it’s not like it would’ve been with the Campbells, even with Kathryn passing out hot chocolate and Christmas cookies.

  The good news is I still have a best friend, and she and her foster mom are picking me up in about thirty minutes so I can spend the rest of the day with them. I realize Christmas is supposed to be a time for family, but maybe that was never meant to be my life.

  Maybe I’m not meant to ever have a family.

  CHAPTER 29

  “Thanks for the ride,” I say to Adam, who’s staring at the prison in front of us. I’m sure he’s never been here before. Neither have I until today. I don’t even want to be here now, but Chase is inside and I need to talk to him.

  It took over a month, but the cops finally found him in Georgia with his cousin Dwight. A few pieces of artwork were found in Dwight’s garage, but not the really valuable ones or Gigi’s Meier. I feel like I have to at least try to find out what Chase did with those. I owe that to the Campbells after bringing him into their lives, even if I didn’t help him get inside their front door.

  “Do you want me to go with you?” Brittany asks from in front of me.

  I shake my head. He’ll be even less likely to tell me anything if he has an audience.

  “I’ll be quick,” I say, reaching for the door handle.

  “Be careful, okay?” Adam says, glancing over his shoulder at me.

  I nod and then push the door wider, but it slams into something. Looking through the window, I see a man standing there with his back to me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I say, climbing out.

  The man stills, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach when I notice the back of his head and his broad shoulders. His very familiar broad shoulders.

  “Hailey,” he says, turning around to face me.

  “Brad.” I gulp. “W-what are you doing here?” I ask, although I’m pretty sure I know the answer.

  “Hoping to see you.”

  Yep, Adam the backstabber. I glare through the window, but he and Brittany are talking and not paying a bit of attention to us.

  “Why didn’t you call?” he asks. “Or send more e-mails? ‘I’m fine’ wasn’t exactly enough to ease my mind, you know.”

  My jaw clenches at his words. His family kicked me out, yet I’m supposed to feel bad about not calling?

  “I don’t blame you,” he says, reaching for my hands.

  I let them lie limply in his. “But you think I helped him,” I say pointedly. That’s what it comes down to—either Brad trusts me or he doesn’t.

  “I—I don’t know.” He sighs. “Did he threaten you? Or us?”

  I shake my head as every muscle in my body tenses. He doesn’t trust me. After everything we’ve been through, he still doesn’t trust me.

  “I just want to understand.”

  “There’s nothing to understand. I didn’t help him,” I say, ripping my hands from his.

  “Hailey, I don’t blame you.” He tries reaching for me again. I take a step back.

  “But you think I did it,” I say, narrowing my eyes at him. “I didn’t help him!” I yell at the top of my lungs. I clench my fists at my sides as my heart pounds in my ears. “I thought you were better than them, but you’re not. You’re worse. You made me fall for you and then act like this.” I jam my finger into his chest. “I would never help Chase. Ever.”

  My shoulders shake with anger. His face is pale; his mouth hangs open. The eyes I used to stare into forever are wide and only make my blood run hotter now. Without saying another word, I turn toward the prison so I don’t have to see the one person in the world who has hurt me the most.

  *

  “Babe,” Chase says thirty minutes after I finally get cleared to see him. He presses his palm against the glass like he wants to connect with me. As if I’d want anything to do with him.

  “How’d you get in their house?” I ask.

  “I’ve got my ways,” he says, sitting back and struggling with the phone between his shoulder and ear. He reaches up with his cuffed hands and adjusts it.

  “Who helped you?”

  “Nobody.”

  “Someone gave you my security code. Who was it?”

  When I mention the word code, there’s a slight change in his cocky attitude. His lips form a thin line, he blinks twice, and he stares at me like a deer caught in headlights. Then, as quickly as it happened, it disappears.

  “How you like all your new friends?” he asks, staring at his dirty fingers.

  “What?”

  He starts digging the dirt out from under his nails. “You thought you could just waltz into their fancy life like you belong? You ain’t never gonna belong in that life. They ain’t your real friends.
They ain’t gonna let you pretend to be one of them.”

  My heart momentarily stops in my chest. “Did one of them help you?” I ask slowly.

  He smiles and slouches back in his chair again.

  “Who? Which one?” I ask, leaning forward. “Michelle?” Oh my God. The nice handwriting. It has to be hers!

  He shrugs.

  “The blond?”

  He shrugs again.

  It’s her. It has to be her. Oh my freaking God. Michelle framed me? She’s even crazier than I thought. How has she fooled all her friends for so long? It has to be because she’s beautiful and rich and has perfect grades. Nobody would even think twice about trusting her. Me, on the other hand …

  My heart pounds in my chest as I think about what Michelle did, but then starts to slow as I realize what this means. I can prove to the Campbells it wasn’t me. I don’t plan on ever seeing them again, but at least my reputation can be salvaged. At least they’ll know what a big mistake they made.

  “Thank you,” I whisper to Chase. This is the most helpful he’s been in a very long time.

  I’m about to lower the phone when I realize I haven’t even talked to him about the main reason I came here. “Where are the paintings?” I ask.

  “What paintings?”

  “All of them, but especially the big blurry one of a garden.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking ’bout,” he says

  “They need that one back. It’s not worth anything,” I say, holding his eyes. “You’ll get nothing for it, but it has sentimental value to them. Please give it back to them.”

  “I already told you—I don’t know nothing ’bout no paintings.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. The Campbells need to get the Meier back.

  “If you tell me, I’ll try to help you,” I say, my stomach churning at the thought of making a deal with the devil.

  “I don’t need your help.”

  “Really? Michelle’s going to give you up the minute they arrest her. She wouldn’t even last a minute in juvie.”

  His hands still, and he stares at me, providing further proof it was Michelle.

  “If they get everything back, I’ll try to convince the Campbells not to press charges.” Maybe. Or maybe not. It’s not like I’m actually talking to them anymore.

  “Everything?”

  “Yes.”

  He scratches his cheek and then says, “I can’t get everything back.”

  “How much can you get?”

  He stares at a spot on the wall behind my head while answering, “I’m not sure. I need to make a call.”

  “I’d do it quickly if I were you.”

  He nods, and then I hang up the phone and leave without another word.

  CHAPTER 30

  “Well?” Brittany asks when I slide into the car.

  “Do you mind stopping at the police station on the way back to the group home?” I ask Adam.

  “Noooo,” he says, drawing the word out. “Care to tell us why?”

  “No offense,” I say, buckling my seat belt, “but your friend Michelle has serious issues.”

  “Michelle?” Adam and Brittany say at the same time.

  “What’s going on?” Brittany continues, turning completely around in her seat to face me.

  I explain what I found out, and they both stare at me like I’m delusional or something.

  “So, police station?” I ask, motioning to Adam to start up the car.

  He holds up his hands. “Before you do anything, let’s think through this. Chase has a lot to gain by pinning everything on someone else.”

  “You think he lied to me?”

  “I’m not saying that, but how would Michelle have your code? Did you give it to her?”

  I shake my head.

  “Plus, there’s still the issue of getting inside. Someone used a key.”

  “I’m sure he used her key.”

  “Whose key?” Adam asks.

  “Michelle’s key.”

  “Michelle doesn’t have a key.”

  “Sure, she does.”

  “No, she doesn’t.”

  “Yes, she does,” I insist. “I lost mine a while back, and she let me inside with hers.”

  Adam shakes his head. “Brad would never give her a key. I don’t even have a key. Give me a sec,” he says, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He types something, then sets it on the dashboard before focusing back on me.

  “What happened after she let you in?” Brittany asks.

  “She…” And suddenly it all makes sense. “She stood there and watched me enter my code.”

  “No way,” Brittany says. Then, as if a lightbulb just went off in her head, she yells, “The mall!”

  Adam and I stare at her.

  “When we were at the mall with her,” Brittany continues, “I came out of the dressing room and saw her messing with your coat. She said it fell and stuff came out of your pocket. She was putting it all back.”

  “My key…” That was the day I noticed my key was missing.

  “Yeah.”

  “That would explain it,” Adam says, glancing at his phone. “Because Brad said his family never gave her a key.”

  “So, police station?” I ask again. It’s not like I doubted Michelle was guilty, but it’s nice to understand how she did it.

  Adam still hesitates. “Are you sure you want to get the police involved? Maybe we should tell the Campbells first.”

  I shake my head. “I’m not talking to them.”

  He taps the steering wheel with his fingertips. “You really want to do this to her?”

  After what she’s done to me? Absolutely. I nod, so he starts up the car without another word.

  Five minutes later, we’re in a small, gray room at the Carthage police station. There’s nothing in the room but a table, three chairs, and a wall-length mirror. It’s cold and intimidating, probably exactly what they were going for.

  “What happened between you and Brad today?” Brittany asks, as we wait for someone to join us.

  “He didn’t believe me, and I stormed off,” I reply, staring at the chipped tabletop.

  “Don’t you want to talk to him about Michelle?”

  I shake my head. He needed to trust me even without knowing what really happened. It’s too late now.

  Just then, the door opens and a tall man with gray hair, a gray beard, khaki pants, and a black button-down shirt enters. He smiles and sits across from me.

  “You have information about a crime?”

  “Yes.” I nod, my throat going dry. I’ve never been in a police station or talked to a cop before. Even though he’s acting friendly, it’s a little unsettling, which is ridiculous, since I didn’t do anything wrong.

  “Which crime?”

  “The burglary of the Campbells’ house in Pinehurst.”

  He takes a notepad and a pen out of his pocket, then lays them on the table. “What do you know?”

  “I think Michelle Adler is responsible.”

  “I see,” the guy says, writing in his notepad. When he’s done, he leans forward on his elbows. He tents his fingers and taps them back and forth a few times before continuing. “Why do you think that?”

  “Chase Miller, who was already arrested, indicated she might have helped. Plus, I used to live there, and I think she stole my key and had access to my security code.”

  “Anything else?”

  I shake my head.

  “Okay. I’ll relay this information to the proper authorities. Can I get your name and number in case I have any questions?”

  “My name is Hailey Brown, but I don’t have a phone anymore.” I left it at the Campbells’ when they kicked me out, and I don’t know the number for the group home.

  “Address?”

  “I’m not sure. I’m in a group home in Sanford. I don’t know what the address is.”

  He eyes me suspiciously, and I get a sinking feeling in my gut. He’s going to think I was involved, t
oo. Everyone thinks I’m involved.

  “How can I reach you?” he asks.

  “I … I guess you can call DSS. My social worker is Sherry Billows. She’ll know where I am.”

  He nods and then leads us out of the room and the station. As we’re walking to Adam’s car, I whisper, “He thinks I helped them. Why does everyone think I’d do something like this?”

  Brittany lowers her arm on my shoulders and squeezes. “Because you’re a foster kid.”

  *

  As soon as I’m back at the group home, I rush to the computer room.

  After fighting with Brad at the prison, I know exactly what I need to do. I open my e-mail and barely glance at the ten new messages from Brad before checking the box to select every last one in my in-box and deleting them all. Then I go to settings and block both his and Gigi’s e-mail addresses.

  That’s it. It’s done.

  I’m officially moving on from the Campbells. They’ll realize I wasn’t involved when Michelle is arrested. And if Chase tells me where any of the artwork is, I’ll just relay that to the cops, too.

  Rather than feeling like a weight’s been lifted from my shoulders, it’s like I’ve got a fifty-pound backpack on. I want to spring up and skip back to my room, happy that I’m moving forward like I did with Chase and my mom, but I’m rooted to this spot. Even if I wanted to, my legs can’t lift the extra weight.

  I end up sitting there for more than an hour, kind of searching celebrity gossip websites and kind of trying not to think of the Campbells and what I just did. It’s so … permanent. Even though I wasn’t talking to them before, it was reassuring to see a new message every time I logged in. I felt … loved.

  Crap.

  How could Brad make me feel loved after everything he’s done the last few weeks? Did I just make the biggest mistake of my life?

  *

  “There you are,” Sherry says, stepping into my room a few days later. “Ready for panel night?”

  I make a face. I so don’t want to do this, but Brittany pleaded with me to go since her foster mom is making her go.

  “Come on,” she says, tugging on my hand and pulling me up from my spot. “It’s not so bad. Plus, you get pizza and brownies.”

  Twenty minutes later, we pull into the parking lot of DSS, and then Sherry leads me though the back doors. The room is already crawling with people, most of whom I don’t recognize. I see Brittany in the corner talking to another foster kid, so I head over there.