Firecracker (20 page)

I very quickly wrote an email to Songbird from Dean Rein's computer.

I heard movement and change jangling outside the door. Dean Rein was coming up the stairs. His shoes clomped on the floor outside his office just as I got a reply. It was quick and simple:
I'll be there
. It was all I needed.

When Dean Rein walked back into his office, the email had been deleted from his account and I was sitting on the other side of the room. He wouldn't have noticed anyway. His hands were covered in fake blood. Mason was in an ambulance. The paramedics soon figured out that they were in the middle of a prank, but before they could do anything about it, Mason ran away. Nobody ever figured out who he was or why he wanted anyone to believe he was trampled by a horse. Dean Rein never even heard about his escape.

My plan was just a notion at that point, but I had this image in my mind of how everything would end. I knew that I could pull it off. It wasn't satisfying enough just to clear my name. It wasn't satisfying enough to get Talia Pasteur kicked out of Bristol. I needed to do something bigger, for no other reason than that I was Astrid Krieger—and Astrid Krieger does things. But I also knew that I needed help. Getting help, as it turned out, was the easiest part of the whole thing. Nothing else was very easy at all.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

EXCERPTS FROM A BROCHURE FOR THE BRISTOL ACADEMY

 

Founded in 1817 as a college devoted to shipbuilding, the Bristol Academy has developed into the nation's finest boarding school. Our most important mission is to nurture the leaders of tomorrow. Situated on the banks of Lake McCollum, Bristol challenges its students every day, while allowing them the opportunity to foster their independence by living away from home and building relationships that will last throughout their lives and careers.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS ABOUT

THE BRISTOL ACADEMY

 

Is boarding school right for my child? We have always lived with our children.

A lot of parents believe that sending their child away for school could mean that they love their child less and do not want them around. At Bristol, we believe differently. It is not selfish to send your child to a place where the best opportunities await. We understand that you lead a busy life, and so does your child. We believe that recognizing this early is a sign that you love your child even more.

 

How is Bristol different from other schools? Isn't every student everywhere taking basically the same classes?

It's different at Bristol. An average high school student may take English, Social Studies, and Calculus, but Bristol additionally boasts classes such as Psychology, Philosophy, Chemical Engineering, and Classical Poetry. A student who excels at Bristol is already well versed in the curricula of the world's best universities. Our students are almost guaranteed a place at any college they want.

 

My income makes it difficult for me to afford the tuition to Bristol. Do you offer scholarships for outstanding students?

Unfortunately, no. Thank you for asking.

 

What about athletics?

Bristol boasts lengthy equestrian runs, a world-class squash court, and optional physical education classes taught by Olympic bronze medalist in bobsled racing Janusz Fijokwysky. Our students stay fit and healthy with meals prepared daily by a team of dietitians who discuss each individual student's nutritional needs.

 

How many horses does Bristol have in the campus stables?

At least twenty.

 

Can you tell me about some of Bristol's best-known alumni?

The Bristol Academy boasts a prestigious alumni roster that includes two US presidents, one vice president, one Saudi Arabian prime minister, thirty-two Fortune 500 CEOs, eleven members of the US Congress, three Formula 1 racing world champions, one US poet laureate, two best-selling cookbook authors, and the co-songwriter of the seminal 1970s dance hit “Disco Zebra.” Bristol students get to meet and network with many former students every year at our annual Boat Days and in the spring at the Festival of Blooms. Could the next great Bristol alumnus be your son or daughter?

B
oat Days is this giant student-alumni event. It is ridiculous for several reasons, but the most obvious are that it's only one day and it doesn't involve any boats. It's mostly a bunch of speeches and choral performances and finger food and old, fat assholes talking about a far-off time when they used to be young, thin assholes. Here's all you need to know: Boat Days is a big deal because it's when Bristol raises a lot of money, and it is the last day in the world that Dean Rein would want something bad to happen. So, naturally, when I was trying to figure out a plan to make something bad happen, there was really no better time to do it than Boat Days.

Two days before Boat Days, I had everyone come to my room. It was a very different group than I was used to, but I was impressed. Recruitment had been left in the hands of Lucy, and I hadn't thought she could handle it. But Lucy was a great recruiter. And I told her so.

She said, “All I said was that Astrid Krieger was going to do something big. Then I said, ‘You can help or you can only hear about it.'”

“Do all of these people think I'm going to pay them?”

“They might.” Lucy shrugged. “But it's not your responsibility to worry about what they think, is it?”

Lucy had brought together an unlikely group from Cadorette. People who, I had assumed, hated me. But there they were, sitting in various places on the floor of my room. Summer Wonder was in the corner. Next to her were the two girls who were always next to her. There was Beer Shirt (who actually wasn't wearing his beer shirt because Lucy told him he shouldn't) on the exact other side of the room. Mason brought Melty, who still looked terrified of me. Ben from the student council sat on the bed. From my world, Pierre was there because (as he put it) “Lovers support each other.” I then asked him never, ever again to refer to us as
lovers
because my mouth filled with puke at the sound of the word. Since Boat Days was an event for Bristol alumni and I figured I needed a Bristol alumna, Lisbet was there.

Lisbet had never been a part of any of my plans. She said she was flattered I asked, but I could tell she was also confused. Lisbet didn't like to do bad things. I promised her that this plan wasn't bad. In fact, it was the enemy of bad. I was going to stop a bad person from doing bad things. I was like the police.

“Okay,” she said. “But I won't steal anything or hit anyone or lie.” I already knew this about Lisbet, and fortunately I didn't need her to do any of those things.

“I just need you to go to the alumni planning meeting.” This was going to be easy for Lisbet. She was the president of her class at Bristol, and she was already a member of the planning committee. I wasn't asking her to do anything she wasn't doing already. The only change she had to make from how she was already leading her life was that she needed to volunteer to print the program of events.

“Oh,” she said. “That's what Evangeline Roubaix is doing. I don't think I can step on her toes. You know she and I had that thing, Astrid.” I didn't know who Evangeline Roubaix was or what that thing was. The old me would have probably told Lisbet her stupid problems didn't matter, and what I was saying was important, and she needed to understand that. But that wasn't the way I handled things anymore.

“Lisbet,” I said, “I know this isn't the sort of thing you do. But I need you, and we're sisters. You're the only one who can help me with this specific problem of mine, and I wouldn't ask you if it wasn't important. You're my maid of honor, Lisbet, in life.” This pretty much meant nothing, but I thought it was the sort of thing she would love to hear.

“Oh. I understand. Okay! What do you need me to do, exactly?”

“It's really simple. When you're doing the programs, there is one thing that's supposed to happen at two o'clock. I need you to change the program so it says it's happening at noon.”

“That's it?”

“That's it,” I said.

 

>>>>>>>>>>>>>

 

I told Lucy that no one but she and I would know the entire plan. Otherwise, things like that get tricky because either you confuse people or they have some worthless idea about how to make the plan better. Instead, I told everyone privately what I needed them to do, and I told everyone the image I had for how the whole thing would end.

“It will be the middle of the day on Boat Days. There is a podium in the field by the lake. Dean Rein gives a speech. A freshman reads a poem. A senior says a few things about the future and all the wisdom he's collected in his life. The jazz band plays, and it sounds about as good and as bad as every jazz band has ever sounded. And then as a special treat, the students and alumni are going to hear a song performed by Bristol's choral group. The singers gather at the back of the stage, and the soloist walks to the microphone. She has this short, choppy blond hair and a lot of makeup. Her name is Talia Pasteur, and she is a bad person. She tried to ruin my life, and she deserves whatever is coming to her.

“She will open her mouth to sing, but she won't sing. Instead, she will step to the microphone and tell the crowd of fellow students and rich old alumni and everyone in this room right now that she is a liar, a thief, and a cheater. She will say that Astrid Krieger was set up and Talia will take all the blame. She will say that she coerced and manipulated Dean Rein to do whatever she wanted him to do. And the entire crowd will all agree that she deserves everything that is coming to her. And that's why you're all here. You're all going to make this happen.”

Everyone looked a little stunned. Beer Shirt said, “Yeah. Okay. And how are we supposed to do that?”

“This plan is about microphones. Let me explain: When someone speaks into a microphone, we don't hear the things that are coming out of her mouth. The sound is coming out of speakers. The speakers could be all the way on the other side of, say, a field by a lake at a boarding school, but nobody doubts for a second that what's coming out of those speakers is the same thing that's coming out of the person's mouth. The plan isn't for someone else's voice to replace Talia's. That might work with someone else, but it wouldn't work with her. She has this way of speaking—this accent like she works in a speakeasy in the 1930s. Talia Pasteur's voice is like no other. She will actually have to say the things I need her to say or else it will never work. No one will ever believe her.”

The ingenious part of the plan is that while I wasn't going to fake her voice, I was going to fake her face. When you get right down to it, the reason I thought she looked like a tree was that she wasn't noticeable. Her face was like every single face you've ever seen in your entire life. That was probably why she needed to work so hard to find a signature hairstyle and super-short clothes—because otherwise, no one would remember that Talia Pasteur had even existed. She looked like no one, and she looked like everyone. And for the sake of that particular plan, she looked like Summer Wonder—or at least enough like her to make it work.

When everyone left, Lucy stayed behind. I could tell that she was thinking hard because she sat cross-legged on my bed and both of her braids were lodged deeply in her jaw and she was looking up at the ceiling fan, following the blades with her eyes. When she finished thinking, she said the last thing I expected her to say. She said, “Astrid, this isn't going to work.”

“Are you kidding me? You're telling me this now?” Lucy was the only person other than me who knew the whole plan start to finish. She had never said one negative thing about it the entire week. She just kept nodding. And then suddenly she said it wouldn't work. Her timing was just awful.

“Oh, you know, it's a good plan, Astrid. You're very smart. I can't believe you thought all of that up.”

“But?”

“It's just one part. It's just one part that isn't going to work. But, you know, one thing falls apart and—”

“Boom,” I said.

“Yeah. Boom.”

“So, what is it?”

“So this Talia, she goes to the meeting with—”

“With Martin Rein Jr.,” I said.

“Why is she going to tell him anything? I mean, Mason is great, but maybe not for this job.” Mason had been excellent at pretending to be a Bristol student run over by a horse, so I had assumed he would be a natural for the part of Martin Jr. But to be fair, it was the least worked-out part of the entire plan and probably the most important.

“So, I'll get Beer Shirt to do it. Or Melty.”

Talia shook her head. “She wants to be like you, right? This Talia wants to be you.”

“I don't know about that—”

“She does,” Lucy said. “And I would too. You're smart and pretty, and you always have a plan and an idea for everything. If she didn't want to be like you, she'd be an idiot. And if we need ten people to bring her down, she's not an idiot, right?”

I'm not a modest person, so I wasn't going to argue with Lucy about being smart and pretty and whether or not Talia wanted to be like me. I wasn't sure I believed it, but I didn't have the ability to step out of my body and look at myself, so I needed to take Lucy's word for it at that moment. “Fine,” I said.

“You need Talia to trust someone and tell this person everything. If it was you, who would you trust?”

“I'll, um, I'll ask Pierre?”

Lucy rolled her eyes. “Please,” she said. I still have no idea how she learned so much from me. Somehow I'd managed to teach Lucy what a waste of my time Pierre was while at the same time forgetting it myself. “If I needed to find someone you would tell everything to, who would that be?”

I knew exactly who that person would be. And I was really annoyed that Lucy was absolutely right. Goddamnit, I hated it when other people were right.