The Unseemly Education of Anne Merchant (32 page)

“Why don’t you go next?”

“Why don’t
you
?”
he presses.

“Hey!” Jack shouts. “Alistair Bloomberg didn’t show? His tuition is the best.”

“Maybe he got expelled,” a sophomore adds.

“I wish,” a senior tacks on. Even though he knows, as I know, that expulsion is death.

“Who’s Alistair Bloomberg?” I ask.

“His dad’s the one with the
I Love Porno
tattoo,” Pilot explains. “Did you see that guy? Seriously, Villicus outdid himself on that one.”

“Why would Villicus want that?” I ask cautiously, half afraid of the answer, half afraid of what my reaction will be to it. “He doesn’t get anything out of a tattooed head. Or oil spills. Or sex changes. Or—”

“Get anything? Are you talking about money again?” Pilot chuckles. “Anyone with money knows nothing’s actually about money. It’s about power.”

“But money is power.”

“Power is
everything.
When you have power, money follows. That said, when money comes easily, like it does here, it gets boring.” After running his finger along the inside of the glass, he licks it and scans the blanket for more. “Say you could ask a bunch of billionaire parents for anything, Annie, wouldn’t you get creative? I mean, if you’d had people sign over businesses, jets, private islands, anything you can imagine for decades, if you were running the highest-grossing private corporation in the world—which is exactly what Cania is—wouldn’t you want more than money?”

“I wouldn’t want someone to tattoo their forehead.”

He chuckles like I’m
so
simple-minded. “Villicus has the luxury of asking for whatever he wants. Sometimes, he ups the ante. Keep things interesting, y’know?”

Knowing my dad has no money to give, I instantly picture him with a tattoo on his forehead, and I want to cry. The worst part is that I know he’d do it, too. I know that, if Dr. Zin sat down across the kitchen table from him and said he had to carve the outline of a swastika into his face, he’d do it. For me.

“Hey,” Pilot smirks, “you’re not drinking your tequila.”

We both glance down at my glass. Without hesitating, I knock it back. But it’s not strong enough. Once you know you’re dead and battling for a new life, nothing’s strong enough to wash the stunning awareness away. Laughing, Pilot leaps to his feet and tugs me up with him.

“Come on!” he says. “This battle sucks; I’ve heard all these stories. Let’s go spook some deer in the woods.” And he breaks into a run.

Just inside a dense wooded stretch off the beach, I reluctantly catch up with Pilot. Standing together in the midst of trees turned black now that the sun’s disappeared, we’re breathing heavily, listening to waves crash down by the shore. In the distance, Coast Guard boats are whizzing around. Pilot explains that they’re looking for the body of a missing billionaire; I correctly guess the billionaire is Manish, the flashy man I saw yelling at Villicus and Zin weeks ago. Before gunshots tore through the air. I’m getting tired of being right. And I’m getting tired of the callous manner in which everyone seems to think about life, death, and murder around here. Even Pilot.

“Doesn’t this feel good? There’s so much to feel still, don’t you think?” Pilot tilts his head to the sky, hidden somewhere above these countless tree branches, and inhales deeply. “You’d never guess we were anything but alive.”

“How did you know I knew?” I ask.

“I figured it was only a matter of time.”

“Why didn’t you talk to me about it? Before tonight, I mean?”

“We’re not supposed to. Villicus’s orders. And I wasn’t sure you knew until tonight.”

Taking me by surprise, he turns to me suddenly, grabs my hands, and pulls them to his mouth, kissing my palms. My jaw drops, and I almost rip my hands away—until I notice the tears in his eyes.

“Oh, Annie.” He kisses both my palms again, his lips trailing lightly over my skin, his dark eyes closing. “I died before I ever had the chance to.” He pauses, sighs. “I’ll never know what it’s like to be close with a girl.”

I stiffen.

“Look at you,” he breathes, opening his eyes again, releasing my hands, and tenderly unknotting my scarf. “You’re all bundled up like it’s the middle of winter.”

“Pi, what are you doing?” I ask.

His gaze meets mine, and there’s no missing the redness, the emotion rising to the surface.

Standing here, letting him remove my scarf, I wonder if I could fall for him, if I could love him. God, that would make things easy. He’s my closest friend, the one person with whom I’ve spent every spare hour at school, the only person who would open up to me about the secrets of Cania. Sure, he thinks of himself as the disappointing son of a narcissistic, power-hungry politician, but that doesn’t mean he actually
is
disappointing. And he likes me, that much is clear. Judging by the glimmer in his eyes, he likes me a lot. So why shouldn’t I be with Pilot?

Ben.

The moment I think his name, I shake my head.

“What’s wrong?” Pilot asks, taking my scarf in his hands.

“Um, nothing.” I notice my breath is coming faster, and so does he. But he’s misreading it.

He smiles sheepishly. “You’re unbelievably sexy.” Placing my scarf on the boulder behind us, he reaches for the top button of my coat, holding my gaze as he does. “There’s something about you. You don’t even know the effect you have on men.”

I just want him to stop. All I can think is
Ben.

Shut up,
I tell my stubborn brain. Ben is with Garnet—he’s seeing a teacher. He explicitly told me today, in front of everyone, that there’s nothing between us. He lives right next door to me, and yet he never walks with me to or from school or offers me a ride on his precious bike. And every time I see him on campus, he’s cold. Let’s not forget that he took the liberty of reshaping my entire smile to better suit his need for perfection. So what if he left a book in my room? Ben’s father is in cahoots with Villicus. Sure, sure, Pilot’s father is no stellar example of what a man should be, but—okay, fine, scrap the dad comparison.

Ben is dangerous. Pilot is safe. There’s nothing wrong with safe. Safe’s good. If you want your boyfriend to be there for you, you choose a safe guy to be your boyfriend. Or am I going to be one of those dimwit girls who falls for the risky, elusive, unattainable guy in the hopes that she’ll be able to change him? No. Not me. Pilot has only ever been friendly with me, and he obviously likes me; as he presses himself closer to me, I can feel how much he likes me. Even wants me. Nice, safe, loving Pilot is the only way for a smart girl to go.

I glance down to see that Pilot has unbuttoned my coat and pushed it aside. He’s positioned himself between my legs and is gazing at the curves under my shirt. Back at the beach, Jack is calling for us, heading our way.

“We should go,” I stutter.

“I haven’t told you about
my
tuition,” Pilot says, not meeting my eyes. “I win the battle every time because what my dad exchanged for my life here is so major.”

“Oh?” My voice chokes. I can’t help but notice that his hands are on my waist and that his fingers are sliding beyond friendship territory.

“Villicus forced him to confess his sexual affairs publicly.” His stare rolls over my collarbone, up my neck and down again. “He had to hold a major press conference. It ended any chance he had of becoming president—the most important thing in the world to him. But he did that for me, Anne.” His gaze, at last, meets mine. “I guess he must believe in me a little.”

With Jack’s voice nearing us, I can’t think of much other than how badly I want Pilot to remove himself from between my thighs—before the whole school gets the wrong idea about us. He’s just drunk; I can forgive him for acting like we’re together. But everyone else, including Ben, will hear, and then my fate with Pilot will be sealed.

“Pi, we should get back to the beach.”

“He may still be president one day,” Pilot says, as if he’s trying to convince me to want to stay here with him. His palms roll over my hips. “God, you feel so good.”

“It’s gonna rain. And we’ve been telling these sad tuition stories and drinking. I just…”

His dark eyes burn. “If I could just be close to you, my dad might respect me.”

I catch his hands just as they’re moving up my back, and I pull them away from my body. “I can’t fix your relationship with your dad.” With an awkward half-smile, with my heart thumping in my chest and with all the sensitivity I can muster, I bring my legs together, pushing him back. Rejecting him. “I’m sorry. This is not about your dad. This is about me.”

No, turning Pilot down has got nothing to do with Dave Stone. It has everything to do with my heart. My brainless, wasted heart. But I can’t deny it and I won’t hurt Pilot by leading him on now that I can feel how badly he wants to move from friendship status to something else.

“But there were all those signs,” he says, looking both puzzled and drunk. “You laughed at my jokes. You held my hand.”

Just then, Jack jogs in and stops short as he looks at us in our very unfortunate position. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” Neither Pilot nor I say a word. “Come on, Pi. Plum wants to sing, and we all wanna dance. We’re waiting on your musical talents.”

“I’m coming,” he says, backing away from me and looking in every direction but mine. He stumbles as he walks and clutches Jack’s arm for support.

Suddenly nauseated—I’ve never had to turn anyone down and sure as hell didn’t want my first to be Pilot—I follow behind. At a distance. But just within earshot of the guys.

“Not a bad gig you’ve got, buddy,” Jack mumbles to Pilot, his voice low. “Get some ass from the blonde in the woods. And get blown by the redhead for your troubles.”

The two take off in a run. I don’t even want to know what Jack was talking about.

I stagger back to the beach, but I don’t join the others. Instead, when I reach the bonfire, I stop and stare into it, numb, as the singing and dancing commence far ahead.

The fire. It’s the only thing that released Molly from this island.

Robotically, I stick my hand smack in the middle of it—testing my theory about the impossibility of injuring these new, perfect bodies of ours—and watch the vibrant flames rise up to lick it. I feel the pain. I soak up the pain, wondering how long my hand would need to stay in for my skin to char. And then I pull it out, inspecting my flesh immediately. Sure enough, my skin is bright red and tight, even close to blistering near my pinky finger. But, within moments, the redness disappears, the pain disappears, every indication that I’ve just burned myself severely enough that I should be on the way to the hospital right now disappears. I turn my hand over, amazed to know that I was right, that this body, though
real,
is different from a human body. And then, from out of nowhere, Ben places his hand on mine.

“Didn’t your parents ever tell you not to play with fire?”

Fifty feet away from where I stand, staring in
shock
at Ben Zin, looking from him to his hand, which is still on mine, an impromptu concert has broken out, stealing everyone’s attention and leaving me to feel, for perhaps the first time ever, that I can actually talk to Ben without being intruded on. Plum is standing on a huge fallen tree, belting out some song, with Pilot as her backup. The rest of the crowd is dancing, cheering, singing along; I can barely see them, tucked away on the other side of the bonfire—which means they probably can’t see me.

Where the road meets the beach, a yellow Ducati is parked. If that bike wasn’t sitting right there, providing solid evidence that its rider is in the vicinity, I wouldn’t believe my eyes or the sensation running under my skin at Ben’s touch.

All night, I’ve watched for him furtively, hoping against reason that he’d show up here, mentally replaying the cold way he addressed me in the quad today and balancing that with the hint of interest he showed in speeding by me and Pilot twice on our way here. And now, here he is. No Garnet in sight. Just Ben. Taking my hand in his.

“Because it doesn’t appear you have a partner,” he begins, grinning in his gorgeous way, “any chance I can have this dance?” Placing his hand on my lower back, he pulls me to him. His cool breath moves my hair, sending shivers over me. He smells ethereal. His sea-colored gaze is ethereal. The airy way he floats in and out of my life is ethereal—like he might drift away the moment I get close to him—and that is the problem. “If you’ll have me as a partner.”

But I can take no more.

Freeing myself from his embrace, I back away from Ben’s impossibly alluring expression. I don’t give a damn if he’s beautiful or if I’m hopelessly crushing on him. I’m not going to let him keep throwing my heart around.

“Why did you come here?” I demand. “Why, when you made it so clear today that you loathe me?”

“Is it bad that I came?”

“You
told
me we’re not friends. You embarrassed me in front of everyone, including your dad. It was mortifying, Ben. And, icing on the cake, you’re dating
Garnet
. A teacher.”

“No, I’m not. Let me explain.”

“I saw you two. Don’t lie to me.”