Finding Forever (10 page)

“Why? Were you drunk?”

“Um, yeah, maybe a tad.”

“When do you turn twenty-one?”

“Next year. I can't wait.”

Simone squinted at the far side of the fake stadium turf. She whispered, “I think we're being watched.”

“Yeah. I
know
we are.”

“You knew we were being watched this entire time?”

“That's not anyone important. Just my friend, Holden.”

“Wait, so he knows about me? But you promised no one would know that I—”

“Calm down,” Brooklyn said. “He doesn't know who you are, just that you are ‘a source.' I had to have someone come here for my safety. I'm sure you can understand that. And since I'm not Taylor Prince, I don't have a bodyguard. Come to think of it, why didn't Taylor have any bodyguards?”

“She usually does, but she wanted to feel normal on her birthday so she had me send them home.” Simone continued to eye Holden.

Brooklyn texted Holden.

               
Dude, all good here. Just go. Ur freaking her out.

U sure?

               
Yes! Go. Ill txt ya later

Brooklyn put her phone down on the bleachers. “Holden's a real good guy. He's probably the biggest computer genius at school and loyal to a fault.”

“You're dating?” Simone asked.

“No,” she said. “But we've been kind of off and on since freshman year. Currently we are off.”

“Why?”

“It's complicated.”

Simone laughed. “Now you're the one playing coy.”

“Honestly, I'm not. I just think of him more like a friend, a real good friend. My best friend. But he wants more.”

“Bad kisser, huh?”

“No! Not at all. I mean, he's fine. It's just, well, you know, I don't need relationship drama. I don't think I could live without him, but high school sweethearts always break up, and it's usually ugly. It's cleaner this way. Safer.”

“He obviously likes you,” Simone said. “Coming here and all. And I don't blame him for liking you. And by the way, I love your bangs. I've always wanted to go short, but I'm too chicken to try.”

“Short bangs are practical. No hair in my face. When you spend as much time as I do hunched over a laptop, you come to appreciate a she-mullet.”

“Short hair, don't care?” Simone joked.

Brooklyn giggled. “Yep! Work in front, party in the back!”

Brooklyn knew that connecting on a personal level with sources could get them to open up more, but she also knew that few journalists ever broke a story by talking about their hairdos.

“You know,” Brooklyn said, “don't feel guilty about leaving the party without her. Most people would have bolted. That's why I don't understand why Taylor didn't. Was she wasted or something?”

“Taylor doesn't drink or do drugs,” Simone said. “Swear to God. Taylor has always been sober as a saint.”

“Yes, rehab.” The nurse repeated the news to Taylor when she returned for the second hourly checkup. “But clinically speaking, this is more than just a rehab. It's a center for rejuvenation. You'll see. It will transform you.”

“But I don't drink or do drugs,” Taylor said. “You guys know that, right? There has to have been some major misunderstanding, which I'm sure we can very easily straighten out.” She pushed herself to sitting on her bed. “Now if you just let me call my assistant . . .”

The nurse pressed her hand down on top of Taylor's. “I'm sorry, dear. But you have here the leading specialists in the world of addiction and spiritual psychology. They will help you heal. You will get through this stage soon enough.”

“Stage?”

“Denial,” the nurse answered unemotionally. “It's just a stage. It will pass. Takes time. Part of the process.”

Taylor scanned the room. She noticed a lens the size of an eyeball mounted into the corner above the door. “What's that?”

“A camera for your security. And safety.”

“You are lying!” Taylor fully expected someone to barge into her room any moment and announce she was being filmed on a hidden camera TV show. “You're joking, right? You must be kidding me. This is
not
real.”

The nurse pursed her lips, scribbling into a notebook. Taylor stood on the mattress, extended her hands toward the ceiling, and trampoline-bounced in an effort to grab the camera.