Deadly First Day, page 19
part #1 of Embassy Academy Series
He nods in the gloom before making his way toward the row of wooden cabinets that line the back wall of the classroom. One whines as he opens it, making me wince. It’s way too loud in the silence, like a siren indicating our location.
I make my way to Professor Rook’s desk, opening the top drawer all the way and pushing around the clutter inside, looking, for what I don’t know. I’m hoping I’ll recognize it when I see it.
There’s nothing interesting in the first drawer or the second.
Gripping the handle to the bottom drawer, I pull. It doesn’t give. Right. He keeps this one locked. I go still, my fingers still gripping the drawer pull. Last time I was in here looking for my pen, I assumed Professor Rook kept student grades or files in this drawer, because that’s about the size it is, but what if I was wrong? What if the evidence I need to prove that Professor Rook is abusing his position is in this drawer?
Luckily, I know someone who can pick locks. “Mikhail,” I whisper-shout, waving him over when he looks my way.
He slips toward me like a big cat in the dark, rounding the desk to crouch down beside me. “Yes?”
“Can you pick this lock?”
His eyes are heavy on mine. “Are you sure you want me to do this?”
“Yes.”
With a nod, he takes the paperclip I hold out to him. Digging in the desk, he gets a second paperclip. Then he inserts both into the lock and fiddles with them for a second. There’s an infinitesimal click, and the drawer pops open.
I was right; it’s full of student files, their names scrawled on the tops of the folders in alphabetical order. I don’t know the name of the student I saw coming in here, or I’d check her file first. But I do know Charlotte’s.
Flicking through the files with quick fingers, I find my stepsister’s file and pull it out.
Mikhail puts a hand over mine to stop me. “Why are you looking at Charlotte’s file? I thought you said you were investigating the professor?”
Despite the hurt look on his face, I have to be honest. “I think they might be involved. I don’t know for sure.” I rush to get it said as quickly as possible, not wishing to hurt him.
He withdraws his hand, but doesn’t leave my side.
I scan the document on top of my stepsister’s file. It’s nothing exciting, just a paper she wrote for him last year. There’s not much else there. Disappointed, I close the file and slide it back into place. That’s when I see the tiny dot next to my stepsister’s name. What is that?
Head tilted to the side, I squint at it. In the low light, it doesn’t look like anything more than a period, but it also doesn’t look like a mistake. On a hunch, I scan the other file folders. Quite a few others have a dot next to their names.
Including Li Na.
Pulling her folder out, I rifle through it, but it’s as unilluminating at Charlotte’s. I’m missing something here.
I tap a finger to my lips, not sure what to do.
“I will be right back,” Mikhail says. He moves silently toward the door and looks out into the hallway.
I run my hand over the files again, and there’s a rustle of plastic. I lean forward, diving in between the hanging folders, looking for the source of the crackling noise.
A quiet thunk comes as something hits the inside bottom of the drawer. Digging between the files, I find it, wrapping my fingers around a lumpy plastic baggie.
“Adrienne, hide,” Mikhail whispers from the doorway, his body rigid, poised to fight.
“What?”
“Hide. The professor is coming.”
My pulse roars in my ears, frantic energy building in my chest. With breaths quickening, my gaze flickers around the classroom. There’s nowhere to hide. Where can I hide?
“Hurry, Adrienne,” Mikhail urges, but I’m rooted to the spot.
Mikhail comes to me. With one hand he lifts me off the floor. With the other, he shuts the drawer. “Into the second cabinet from the left. Go.”
I start to run toward it, but whirl around to face him. “Where will you hide?”
He shakes his head. “Do not worry about me. Go.”
I scuttle over the floor and open the cabinet, finding it mostly empty. Crawling inside, I pull the door closed behind me. It’s a tight fit, and the door won’t shut completely, but I manage. As long as Professor Rook isn’t coming down to his classroom to store something in here, I should be okay. But what about Mikhail?
I don’t have time to worry about it, because footsteps enter the room.
I hold my breath, eyes clamped shut.
24
Any second I’m expecting the overhead lights to flick on and cast a line of light into the crack in the cabinet door, but it doesn’t happen.
My ears are throbbing as I struggle to hear. Where did Mikhail hide?
Wherever he is, Professor Rook must not see him because he shuffles over to his desk.
The drawer. It’s not locked. If he goes in there, he’ll know someone was here. Maybe is here still.
Please, please, please, I beg lady luck. Don’t desert me now.
A drawer opens, and Professor Rook curses softly. He mumbles something I can’t make out. There’s a rustle of plastic, and then the drawer closes again.
Whatever was in the drawer, Professor Rook took it with him. So much for finding some dirt on the wicked professor.
He leaves the classroom, shutting the door behind him, but I don’t budge, despite the painful way my spine is pressed against the back wall of the cabinet.
Minutes pass as I wait, but I can’t seem to bring myself to come out. That was too close, and fear is coursing through my veins, making it impossible for me to move an inch.
The cabinet door opens slowly. “It is safe for you to come out,” Mikhail whispers, squatting down to give me a hand. I reach out, and his fingers wrap around mine. A buzzing sensation goes up my arm as he pulls me to a stand. With a light squeeze, he lets go of my hand, leaving it cold.
“That was close,” Mikhail says.
“You’re not kidding. Way too close. Where did you hide, anyway?”
A sheepish smile twists his mouth. “Behind the door.”
My eyes go wide. “And that worked? Yikes.”
His eyes glint in apparent amusement. “The professor is not very observant. Are you ready to go?”
I shake my head. “I want to check the drawer again.” If there is anything incriminating in that file drawer, I have to find it. Mikhail and I tiptoe over to the desk, and he picks the lock again.
I get a thrill watching him work. He’s so focused, and then the lock clicks and he looks up at me.
I have to get the butterflies in my stomach under control. He likes Charlotte. Besides, my fingers are itching to reach beneath those files.
I pull the drawer all the way out and sink my hand between the files at the back. I can’t feel the plastic under my fingers. Instead, they brush against a tiny object. Grasping it, I pull it out, but it starts to crumble.
It’s half of a tiny, white pill.
Coco. Zelda. Gloria. Louise. is packed with people when Mikhail pulls up to the curb. Giddy excitement courses through us as we pour out of the limousine. Genevieve, Charlotte, Dali, Asif, Callahan, and Ricardo join me on the curb, all dressed to the nines. The hot pink of the club’s neon sign glitters off the white sequin flapper dress Charlotte is wearing, catches the fringe of the peacock feathers of Genevieve’s headband, and coils in the zig zag curls that cascade down Dali’s back.
Callahan and Asif don’t look bad either, in their tailored vests and shiny leather shoes. Asif scoots in beside Genevieve, adjusting his collar.
It was Charlotte’s idea to sneak off campus to celebrate the end of midterms, but Genevieve was the one who brought her plans to life. She rounded up fantastic, period-appropriate clothing for all of us.
One of the biggest surprises of the night is Mikhail, who showed up in a cream-colored suit and bowler hat, looking like a muscular mafia man. He stands behind me in our little circle, keeping careful watch over all of us. His butt is on the line if anyone finds out he’s helped seven students sneak off the academy grounds tonight.
“Let me just call Kenneth, and we’ll go in.” Charlotte stalks off down the sidewalk, pulling her phone to her ear.
I can’t keep my focus off Mikhail. I can almost feel the heat coming off him, and it makes fizzing sparks dart through me.
I glance toward my stepsister, but don’t allow my gaze to linger. I don’t want her to catch me staring at her, either, even though I’ve been looking for an opportunity to hint at the pill I found in Professor Rook’s desk and gauge her reaction. My instincts are telling me she isn’t the type to take drugs, but what do I know?
I look to Ricardo, who is standing beside me rubbing his hands together in anticipation. He looks great in his fitted navy shirt, and the charcoal gray newsboy cap he’s used to crown his halo of auburn curls. “You ready to be dazzled by my skill on the dance floor?” He grins at me, snagging my hand.
“I’m going to dance circles around you, you over-confident boy-child,” I tease, knowing that Ricardo has big shoes to fill if he’s actually going to dazzle me.
“I’d like to see you try, chouchou.”
“Why do you call me that?” I laugh. “It makes me sound like a train.”
“Ugh. He’s not coming.” Charlotte’s disappointed words break into my focus as she stomps back into our circle. “Okay, losers. Let’s go dance our brains out. Come on, Mikhail.” Grabbing the big man’s hand, she propels him into the club behind her, waving back at us to show the bouncer her party.
“Ricardo?” I ask, my voice relaxed. I may not get to dance with the boy I like, but I can dance with the one who is becoming one of my closest friends.
“Let’s dance.” Squeezing my hand, he leads me inside.
The band is playing with all they’ve got tonight, making the crash of trumpet and trombone expand to fill the space, their instruments shining in the red and gold lights. Whoops of excitement go up as the band begins a fast song with a one-two rhythm that beguiles the dancers into frenetic movement.
I stand on the sideline, sipping a sparkling pumpkin drink and waiting for Ricardo to get back from a quick bathroom break. The warm aroma of sweaty, gleeful humans surrounds me, heating my skin and making me itch to plunge back into the writhing pack of people following the beat of the music.
If Charlotte is bummed that Kenneth isn’t coming, she’s not showing it. As soon as we got inside, she threw herself onto the dance floor and hasn’t stopped moving since. She’s a force as she allows Mikhail to twirl and spin her in dance moves my eyes can barely follow. They look perfect together, like they’ve been swing dancing as a pair forever. Their bodies move in tandem to the rhythms. Charlotte is flushed and grinning as Mikhail picks her up, bouncing her off one hip and then the other, sliding her along the floor through his legs and twirling around to scoop her up again.
I’ve never seen him smiling so big. It makes him look a lot younger than the serious expression he usually wears. He looks so handsome.
Nearby, Callahan and Dali dance together, their comfort with each other growing as each song goes by. They don’t interact much at school, but now they look like they’re building a friendship all their own as their hands meet, tan fingers wrapping around coppery brown ones. She laughs and shoves him back when he accidentally steps on her foot. With a dropped chin and a whispered apology, they’re off again.
My grin grows wider as I turn to find Asif and Genevieve. It’s obvious that Asif does not have much experience swing dancing, but Genevieve doesn’t seem to mind. She laughs gracefully as she teaches him a basic two-step and leads him over the dance floor. Even with his black curls gelled up over his head, she’s an inch or two taller than him.
Ricardo emerges through the dancers, giving me a cocky grin as he lifts his chin. “You ready to have your mind blown?” Taking me by the waist, he spins me around, his amber eyes catching on mine.
I bust up laughing. “So ready.”
Laughter bursts from him as he spins me away from him and back again, tucking me into his side. Time flees as we whirl around the dance floor.
“This is so much fun,” I gasp between breaths, and Ricardo pumps his fist in the air.
The song ends, and a slower one begins. Over Ricardo’s shoulder, I spot Charlotte retreating from the dance floor toward our table. Where’s—
“Do you mind if I cut in?”
My heart stops, and warmth creeps up my neck.
Ricardo looks from me to Mikhail, and a slow smile parts his features. “Not at all. Have fun.” He joins Charlotte at our table.
“Do you know how to waltz?” Mikhail asks, his brown eyes locked on mine.
I shake my head, suddenly bashful.
“I will teach you.” He places one of my hands on his shoulder before taking the other one in his own. Gently, he puts his free hand at the middle of my back and tucks me against his broad chest. His spicy, smoky scent envelopes me, and my entire body lights up at his nearness. Then he starts to waltz.
Unlike the last time we danced, this doesn’t feel like a rescue at all. Instead, it feels like a lesson in attraction, the way he studies my face as we move. He leads me effortlessly over the dance floor, the subtle pressure in his hand easy to interpret as we change directions. This boy. He dances with all he has, his quiet confidence exuding from every pore.
Lights shine in my eyes, adding to the flush of euphoria that’s growing in my chest. I must be about to burst from the thrill of dancing this way, close to Mikhail, and with all of my friends spinning around me. We’re larger than life. Untouchable. Immortal under these gilded lights.
Ricardo asks Charlotte to dance, but she rolls her eyes. That’s not going to happen.
I try to call up attraction to Ricardo, but it just isn’t there. Sure, it’s fun to flirt with him, but my stubborn heart only has room for a tall, quiet, muscle man whose low voice makes me want to purr.
There’s no use lying to myself. After Mikhail helped me out of that cabinet in Professor Rook’s classroom and led me up the stairs to my room, making sure I was safely inside before leaving, I leaned against my closed door, my heart pounding an erratic rhythm in my chest. Not just because we’d almost been caught by the professor while snooping around, but because I was falling for Mikhail. This man who has been at my side every moment since I arrived at the academy, and whose strong presence is a soothing calm when everything else around me is in chaos. This man, who is still such a mystery to me.
Mikhail holds me close to him, and my head starts to spin. I fight the way my heart is reacting to him, to this. I try to tell myself he’s only dancing with me because he considers me a friend. The other couples nearby are close together, just like we are.
I can’t take any more of his deep, probing focus, so I lay my cheek against his chest and close my eyes. Maybe I should enjoy this while it lasts, because I don’t know when or if it will happen again.
“Adrienne,” Mikhail breathes, his voice rumbling through me. “There is something I must tell you.”
Mikhail’s Adam’s apple bobs as our gazes meet. What could he have to tell me?
The song ends, and the crowd claps.
Mikhail takes a step back, still holding my hand, and Charlotte heads our way. Slowly, Mikhail bends and presses the faintest kiss to my knuckles, making me go all pink. His eyes rise to mine, and he opens his mouth to speak.
And that’s when Charlotte’s heel snaps off and she slams to the wood floor, letting out a cry of surprise and pain as she clutches her knee.
“Charlotte,” I cry out, sliding over the floor toward her.
Mikhail kneels beside my stepsister, concern rimming his eyes. “Can I see?” he asks, gently peeling her fingers away from her kneecap. With slow, sure movements, he prods at it, making her wince. “You are finished dancing for tonight. Let us get you up.”
At her nod, Mikhail stands and pulls her to her feet, snaking an arm around her waist to support her weight.
Ricardo tries to help, but Mikhail waves him off. “Get her shoe,” he commands, and Ricardo does, scooping up the broken heel in one hand.
Charlotte’s teeth grit together as she clings to Mikhail, her gait unsteady as she limps on a broken high-heel. “Adrienne. There’s super glue in my purse.”
“Of course there is,” Callahan says, shaking his head, making his blond hair flop forward over his forehead.
I clamor through the crowd of dancers who have stalled around the dance floor to watch us, and reach our table. Swiping Charlotte’s beaded, designer clutch purse off her chair I snap it open and peer inside. Lipstick tube. Collapsible hair brush. Mini deodorant. Super glue. I pluck out the tiny bottle of glue, and my fingers brush on something plastic underneath it. My eyes widen. I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
It’s a tiny plastic baggie, half-filled with petite white pills. Just like the one I found in Professor Rook’s desk.
I whip around to look at Charlotte, and our eyes lock.
Now I know why she was in Professor Rook’s classroom with the door bolted.
I almost wish she’d been kissing him instead.
25
I wait until Mikhail tips Charlotte onto her bed and recedes silently from the room, leaving the two of us alone, before I latch onto her with claw-like fingers. Her penchant for getting her homework assignments done in record time, her seeming lack of need for sleep, the buzz of energy that’s always rippling under her skin. It was from the pills I found in her clutch. I know it.
Mikhail’s eyes find mine for a moment before the door clicks shut. He never got to tell me what he wanted to say, but now is not the time.
Whirling around, I unleash on my stepsister, praying my tongue cooperates this time, when what I have to say is vitally important. “Seriously? Pills? What are they? Cocaine? Heroin?” I rip the clutch purse out of her hand and dig around inside, brandishing the baggie high over my head.
