Secret

CHAPTER 6

Nick rubbed at his eyes and told himself to focus. He was usually the first one to hand in a completed test, but more than half the class had walked their papers up to the front of the room. Even Gustav Asciak, the foreign exchange student who barely spoke a lick of English, had turned in his paper.

Nick still had half the test to complete. He never should have blown off studying. He kept mixing up the formulas, and the more he told his brain to spit out the information, the more it supplied him with thoughts of what he had been doing last night.

Adam’s eyes.

Adam’s hands.

Adam’s—

Focus.

This wasn’t the end of the world. He had an A average in every single class, including this one. Getting a less than perfect score on one test wasn’t going to kill him.

But it was definitely going to piss him off. His GPA was everything. He wasn’t rolling in money, so he needed scholarships if he wanted to go away to school.

He could imagine the college rejection letters now. After learning that one kiss and a sleepless night led you to fail a test, we have decided you are no longer a fit for our institution . . .

The bell rang, and Nick snapped his head up. Students started shoving books into backpacks and pushing for the exit.

Holy shit. He still had seven questions left.

He kept writing, scribbling fast. The room cleared before he was halfway through the next problem. His thoughts were so scattered that he wasn’t sure he was tackling the question correctly.

“Nick.” Dr. Cutter appeared beside his desk, tapping a finger on the plastic surface. His voice was gentle but carried an air of finality. “Time is up, I’m afraid.”

Nick didn’t stop writing. “One minute?”

Dr. Cutter didn’t say anything for a long moment, but Nick felt his concern in the air.

Finally, he put a hand on Nick’s wrist, stilling his writing. “Did you not understand the material?” he said. “I wish you had come to me earlier this week—”

“No.” This was pointless. Nick put his pencil down and rubbed at his eyes. “I understood it.”

The teacher picked up the test and flipped through the pages. “You’ve missed the entire last section.”

Like he didn’t know that. Nick focused on the pencil, wishing he could stab it straight through his hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t have time to study. I kept mixing up the formulas.”

Dr. Cutter sat down at the desk beside him. “Is something going on at home?”

Nick knew this voice. He’d heard it twelve dozen times since his parents died. While teachers and counselors had learned to steer clear of Gabriel’s temper, they knew they could seek answers from Nick. Are you okay? Are you getting enough to eat? Is your brother doing enough to take care of you?

But he was seventeen now, and way too old to get a pass for something like that.

Especially when failing this test had nothing to do with problems at home, and everything to do with one dark-haired dancer.

God, you’re obsessed.

“No,” he said. “Home’s fine. Really.”

Dr. Cutter wasn’t convinced. “Girlfriend?”

Nick looked at him. “I’m okay. Just tired.”

“This is a unit test. If you fail, you’ll have to get someone from home to sign it.”

Michael probably wouldn’t be angry, but he’d definitely want an explanation. That was almost worse.

So, Michael, there’s this guy . . .

Nick cleared his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. I’ll catch up.”

His teacher studied him, and Nick told himself not to look away. Finally, Dr. Cutter clapped him on the shoulder. “I’ll let you do a retake. Friday?”

This was a pity move. Nick knew it, and pride was pricking at him to refuse. Like with his brothers, Dr. Cutter was judging him on what he expected from Nick. But this was an AP class, and his performance here might carry a lot of weight when colleges started dishing out funds.

He told his pride to stick it. “That would be great. Thank you.”

AP Calculus wasn’t much better. Nick had completely forgotten to do the homework. Three questions—three stupid questions! —but he’d never gotten around to opening his assignment book last night, so he hadn’t bothered to do them.

He mentally added another zero to his imaginary grade sheet. At least this was only homework.

By the time he sat at a table at lunch, he was ready for some cutlery, just so he could stab something.

Lunch was pizza. Figured. Not even so much as a plastic fork.

A tray dropped onto the table beside him. Four slices of pizza and a coke. The air told him it was Gabriel before his eyes did. His twin dropped onto the bench. “What’s with you?”

They hadn’t seen each other all morning, but Gabriel could always read his moods like Nick had a news crawl embedded in his forehead.

“Failed a physics test,” Nick said.

“You know how I solve that problem?” said his twin. “I don’t take physics.”

“Hilarious. Where’s Hunter?”

“Working on a research project. I was starving.” He popped the cap on the soda. “You look like shit.”

“Wow, I’m glad you sat down.”

“Hunter said you snuck Quinn in last night. I’m guessing you didn’t get much sleep.”

Nick shrugged, keeping his eyes on his food, torn between defending Quinn’s honor and keeping his own secrets. Then again, she wasn’t exactly making a strong case for her own chastity.

“She needed a place to crash.” Nick hesitated. “Tyler’s hassling her.” He repeated everything that Quinn had told him last night.

Gabriel listened, stacking two slices of pizza to eat them at the same time. “What was she doing behind the 7-Eleven?”

“She won’t tell me.” Nick kept rolling it around in his head. Had she been so upset over Tyler? Or had something happened at home?

“Nicky, you need to ditch this girl.”

“Why?”

“Because she’s nothing but drama. You don’t need that.”

Nick glared at him. “I think I can manage.”

“Jesus, don’t bite my head off. I’m just trying to save you the trouble. We have enough drama.”

He didn’t need a reminder of that. Nick picked up his slice of pizza to spare himself the need to say anything.

“Where is the old ball and chain, anyway?” said Gabriel.

“She had some kind of group project for French.”

They sat in silence for a long moment. Nick knew he should say something—anything—but he was so worried he’d open his mouth and tell Gabriel everything.

“It’s not just your test,” said Gabriel. “What else is up?”

I spent half the night with a boy and I can’t stop thinking about him. “I’m just tired.”

Gabriel didn’t respond, but Nick could feel the weight of his eyes.

“You guys are getting serious, huh?” Gabriel said.

“Maybe.” Nick chewed his pizza and fought with his brain as it helpfully supplied him with thoughts of Adam. Adam’s apartment. Adam dancing, driving his body into a powerful routine. Adam touching him, first the light brush of his fingers, then stronger. Adam, Adam, Adam.

“Who are you doing tonight?” said Gabriel.

Nick choked on his pizza. He coughed hard and needed a drink of soda to get it together. “What did you just say?”

“I said, what are you doing tonight? You’re so frigging keyed up. You have plans with Quinn? Want to go out?”

Nick shook his head. “Yes. No. I mean—I don’t want to go out. I’ve got to study.”

Gabriel’s hand closed over his forearm. “Seriously,” he said, his voice a touch lower. “You all right?”

Nick looked at him. For an instant, he felt like six-year-old Nicky, wanting to cry and hide and let his brother fix everything. What had Adam said last night? You admire him. I can hear it in your voice.

He was right. Gabriel had always been the fighter. The defender. Nick could see it now: if he told his twin something was wrong, Gabriel would be on his feet, ready to knock heads.

It made Nick feel immeasurably weak sometimes. Like when Gabriel was sneaking around, rescuing people from burning buildings. Or like last night, when Tyler had gone after Quinn. Gabriel wouldn’t have picked her up and driven her home. Gabriel would have tracked down Tyler and beaten the shit out of him.

When Nick thought about telling Gabriel the truth about himself, it felt like admitting one more way he didn’t live up to his identical twin brother.

His appetite vanished. He flung his pizza down and shoved the tray away. “Yeah. Fine. You want that? I’m not hungry.”

Before Gabriel could stop him, he shouldered his bag and walked away from the table.

“Hey!” Gabriel called.

Nick called back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you at home later.”

Almost immediately, his cell phone chimed. Nick grabbed it from his pocket, hoping for a message from Adam.

Michael had sent him a message.

Can you help with a job tonight? Should be done by 7. Too much for me + C.

C was Chris. Nick sighed. He was already behind with school, but he’d be able to study at Adam’s, right? Michael wouldn’t ask if he didn’t need the help.

The exhaustion that had been clinging to Nick’s back all day doubled in weight. For an instant, he was tempted to say no.

But Michael expected a yes. And Nick always did what his brothers expected.

Nick slid his fingers along the face of the phone.

Sure. I’ll be there.

Quinn spent all day dodging Becca, but her best friend—ahem, former best friend—caught up to her next to her locker after last period.

Quinn didn’t even look at her. Like she needed to see Becca’s straight, shiny dark hair, her perfect little figure, or Chris Merrick’s arm slung over her shoulder.

Well, Chris wasn’t really there, but he might as well have been.

“I can’t talk,” said Quinn. “I need to catch the bus.”

Becca was studying her. Quinn could feel it. But her voice was easy, casual. “Want a ride?”

“Nah.”

“You want to ride the bus? What are you pissed at me about now?”

Quinn slammed her locker shut, making the metal crash echo down the hallway. She flung her trig textbook into her backpack. This was so like Becca. Acting like Quinn was such a drama queen, so let’s laugh off all her problems and treat her like everything is trivial.

And of course all this slamming and flinging was probably driving that point home.

Quinn picked up her bag and started walking.

“Come on,” said Becca, catching up with her. “Would you stop wasting time and tell me what’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong.”

“I thought you were all into doing the double-date thing with Nick and Chris. What happened?”

Nick is gay and you kept secrets.

“Forget it,” said Quinn. “Just go back to your perfect life.”

Becca stopped short. Quinn kept walking, but Becca called after her. “Oh, my perfect life? You mean with my father showing up out of nowhere? Or having the entire school know exactly what I did with Drew McKay? Or—”

Quinn whirled. “Shut up.” The worst part was that she did feel badly about all of those things. She marched back to Becca. “If you’re going to start listing your life difficulties, why don’t you start with the truth?”

Now Becca looked exasperated. “Damn it, Quinn, I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about how I learned all your secrets from the Last Airbender last night.”

Becca looked almost incredulous. “A cartoon? What? You—wait—you—”

Quinn watched sudden realization dawn on Becca’s face.

“Nick told you,” Becca whispered.

“No shit he told me. Why didn’t you tell me is what I want to know.”

When Becca didn’t have anything to say to that, Quinn started walking again.

Becca caught up to her in a hurry. Her voice was a whispered rush of words, hidden beneath the bustle in the hallway. “Quinn, I couldn’t tell you. Did he tell you everything? About how they’re marked for death? About how the Guides will come for them—”

“He told me all that.”

“Did he tell you about my father? How both Hunter and I aren’t supposed to exist, either?”

“Yes.”

“Did he—”

Quinn shoved her away. “He told me all of it, Becca!” She glared at her, feeling fury pour out of her eyes. “Why didn’t you?”

“I . . . couldn’t.”

I couldn’t.

Quinn could hear the subtext.

Because I couldn’t trust you.

And suddenly, that pinpointed the real problem here.

Becca hadn’t trusted her with this secret. Maybe she thought Quinn was too volatile, maybe she didn’t think Quinn was worthy of knowing. Maybe Becca was genuinely worried and she didn’t want to put Quinn in danger—but that felt like a load of bullshit since her friend hadn’t stopped her from dating Nick.

Quinn felt like such an idiot.

“He told me all about it,” Quinn said, hating that her throat felt thick. “All of it, Bex.”

Then she stood there waiting for Becca to re-categorize the last few weeks, the same way Quinn had done when she’d first learned everything from Nick.

The time Becca had totaled her car on the bridge, but Becca’s father, the Guide, had really been behind it.

The fires in town, the destruction of the school library, the students who were killed at the carnival.

How the kidnapping of a dozen local teenagers had nothing to do with a local criminal, and everything to do with a Guide coming to town to destroy the Merricks. How Calla Dean wasn’t a victim, but a murdering pyromaniac.

Becca knew all of it.

She’d never breathed a word to Quinn.

“You told me you miss your father,” said Quinn. “You cried and told me how much you wished you could trust him. Why would you lie about that?”

Becca looked stricken. “I didn’t lie about that. And now—now he won’t even let me see him—”

“Oh, wait, you can tell the truth when you want something?” Quinn scoffed and walked away. “Need a shoulder to cry on? Forget it, Becca.”

“Quinn, stop!”

“Why?” Quinn stopped and looked at her. “Why, Bex? You don’t give a crap about me. Not really.”

“I do—please, stop, talk to me.”

Becca’s voice was heavy with tears, and Quinn almost broke. She did know what her friend had gone through, and it hadn’t all been sunshine and roses.

Quinn knew because she’d let Becca cry on her shoulder about some of it.

But clearly not all of it.

And Quinn’s life wasn’t exactly sunshine and roses, either. Not like Becca gave a crap.

“I don’t want to talk,” said Quinn. “I’ve got my own secrets to keep.”

Then she burst through the double doors into the chilled air waiting for her.