In This Moment (In Plain Sight Book 3) Read online

  She shrugs quickly and takes a sip of her coffee. “I’m trying this fake it till you make it thing. If I act like I love school, then maybe I eventually will.”

  I snort. “Good luck with that. And thanks for the coffee.”

  “Only one hundred and eighty one days left of this bullshit,” Livi says as we step to the side. A group of ROTC guys are carrying a large cafeteria table outside for whatever reason.

  “School just started and you’re already counting down the days?” I say with a laugh.

  “Yep. Don’t underestimate the power of positive thinking. One day you’ll step off the bus and I’ll be like, ‘only one more day!’ and you’ll say, ‘wow, this year went by fast’.”

  I roll my eyes. “Can that day hurry up and get here?”

  Now we can’t even get into the school because more guys are carrying more tables out of the side entrance. Livi and I step off the sidewalk and onto the grass to wait for them to pass.

  This is a bad thing, because my eyes wander to the parking lot, and I know I should stop them, but I don’t. I go straight for that part of the back row where he always parked his truck. And sure enough, Shawn’s truck is there, parked next to a shiny red BMW. I see Mindy climb out of her car and walk over to his truck.

  My heart aches and my head tells me it’s all my fault for being so grossly tall that no guy can find me attractive. I force myself to look away.

  And that’s when I see my greenhouse.

  “Oh my God.” I’m not sure if I actually say the words or just think them, because I’m in shock. I can’t stop staring at it.

  “What?” Livi says. A moment later she says, “Oh shit. What happened?”

  At first, I think maybe the wind knocked it down. Maybe I didn’t build it as strongly as I thought I did. Maybe this is all my fault. But then, I notice the holes dotting the one back wall that’s still remaining standing. Nature doesn’t cause destruction like that. Humans do.

  Someone destroyed my greenhouse.

  Chapter 4

  When I wake up, my head is pounding. My mouth tastes like death, and the sunlight peering in my window feels like a laser blasting through my eyeballs and scaring my brain.

  Fuck.

  I push myself up and realize I fell asleep on top of the sheets last night. I’m still wearing the same thing I was wearing after school yesterday. My brain is foggy, my head feels like someone keeps hitting it with a hammer. I am officially hung over.

  How the hell did this happen?

  I drag myself off the bed and get in the shower. I only have about twenty minutes before I need to be at school, so I make it quick. The cold water wakes me up, but my head is still pounding as memories of last night come back to me. Dad getting the cops called on him, me going out with the guys.

  It was TJ, that prick. After we blew apart that greenhouse, I still had anger inside of me, roiling around being pissed at my dad. So he offered me a drink from the bottle of tequila he kept in his backpack.

  I let my head lean against the shower wall as I slowly remember what happened last night. I got drunk as hell in my own driveway. After dropping off TJ at his house, I came home and drank while sitting on the tailgate of my truck and looking up at the stars. I don’t remember finally going to bed, but the empty bottle of tequila on my floor isn’t a good sign.

  Fear grips me. This is not the man I want to be. I get dressed and brush my teeth and down some aspirin and all the while I’m thinking it to myself, on repeat.

  I’m turning into my worthless father.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  I know I can’t stay home sick on the second day of school. The school would call my parents and my dad would find out and he’d blast me a new one. I have to somehow make it through this day even though I feel like total shit.

  At least one good thing is happening this morning. Dad isn’t home when I walk into the living room. He started a new roofing job today and probably left the house around five in the morning.

  Mom is in the kitchen, still dressed in her khaki pants and dark blue Walmart shirt. “Want some pancakes?” she says. She offers me a smile too, but her eyes are weary and I know she just wants to go to bed. But she’s standing at the stove, making breakfast for me, which is dinner for her, just like she does every day.

  “Sure,” I say, grabbing a plate and slinking to the table. I chug a cup of water and then refill it two more times. I’ll be pissing like crazy in first period, but the faster this alcohol gets out of my system, the better.

  Once I’m sober again, I can start thinking clearly and telling myself to stop drinking. Stop going out with those guys. Stop doing shit I’ll regret in the morning.

  But I have to admit that tearing down that greenhouse was exhilarating. And I wasn’t even drunk then, which is good because it means I can still feel alive without being numbed by alcohol.

  I tell myself I’ll never be like my dad, but on days when I wake up hung over, I really start to question that.

  Mom is so tired that she eats across from me at the table and doesn’t say anything. I don’t talk, either. Sometimes just sitting in the silence that appears when Dad is gone is all we need.

  I drink some more water, and make myself walk in a straight line down the tile grout in the kitchen. I’m fine. No longer drunk, just hungover.

  I drive to school, hoping this day will go by quickly so I can get home and sleep. And then I remember that I work tonight, so sleep won’t happen. Monday, Wednesday, Friday is soccer practice after school. Tuesdays and Thursdays are when I work at Magic Mark’s Pizza. I get there right after school and then deliver pizzas until midnight. Once again, I tell myself I’m the biggest idiot ever for getting wasted on a school and work night.

  Then I haul my worthless ass out of the truck and walk into school five minutes after the bell rings.

  I slink into homeroom, and the teacher gives me the stink eye from where she stands at the front of the class. I don’t even try to come up with an excuse for my tardiness. I just walk to my seat and slide in behind that girl from yesterday. She smells like strawberries, which is a nice change from the rest of the school that smells like teen angst, body odor, and cheap cleaning chemicals.

  I slouch in my chair, happy that the aspirin has helped a little bit, and pretend to listen to the announcements on the PA system.

  TJ whispers my name and I look over at him. “You look like shit.”

  I shrug.

  He snorts and shakes his head. “You got no self-control, dude.”

  I know he’s talking about the alcohol and how he probably knows I finished off the bottle after he went home. But I want to tell him he has no self-control, either. If he’s not punching holes in the walls at home, he’s finding random shit to destroy, like that stupid greenhouse. We all have our vices.

  I wish mine was a little better.

  I glance back at Beau, who is sleeping on his desk, and wish I could do the same thing, but I can’t sleep in class. I’ve never been able to let my guard down like that.

  When the announcements are over, our incredibly old homeroom teacher passes out papers. It’s some kind of flyer for volunteer work, another one advertising school spirit shirts for sale. Just crap that means nothing to me. I shove it in my backpack and watch the girl in front of me.

  She seems off today. Yesterday she was all straight-backed and paying attention, being a perfect student. Today her shoulders slump, and I don’t think she lifts her cheek off her hand at all. She just sits there staring at her desk.

  I don’t know why I care, but I want to know what’s up with her. Why she’s being all blah today.

  I lean forward and tap her on the shoulder. She turns around slowly, leveling an evil glare at me. “What?” she mouths.

  I shrug. “You okay?”

  I actually said the words instead of mouthing them, but she stares at me like she didn’t hear me at first. Then she turns back around.

  I tap her shoulder again, realizing how not used
to this I am. Most girls talk to me even when I don’t want them to. “Leave me alone,” she mutters.

  I lean forward, breathing in the scent of her strawberry shampoo. “You just seem pissed, so I was curious.”

  She turns slightly toward me, so that I can see the curve of her lips and smell the coffee she drank earlier. “We aren’t friends,” she says softly before turning back to face the front.

  “No talking!” the teacher barks.

  “Dude,” TJ says a moment later. He points to his phone, where someone just texted him. “There’s two cop cars out back.”

  I glance over and see the picture on his phone. Sure enough, there are two police cars parked in the teacher’s lot. The lot next to the edge of the property. Right where that greenhouse used to be.

  I stiffen. TJ’s got this smirk on his face like he’s impressed that he caused something worthy of police attention. But I’m not so cocky. There’s no way they can trace that back to us, right? And who even cares about the damage, because it was just a stupid greenhouse that’s been there forever. They can’t possibly care about that. They’re probably here for something else.

  I look over at TJ and he shrugs, like it’s no big deal. So I decide he’s right. No big deal. This won’t come back to us.

  And then the door opens and our principal walks into the classroom. My stomach tightens, and I suddenly feel like I’m going to puke.

  He talks quietly to the teacher and then they both turn and look directly at me.

  “Clarissa?” the principal says, waving his hand for her to join him.

  The girl in front of me stands up, slinging her backpack on her shoulder. She must be Clarissa, I realize, as relief rolls over me. The principal wasn’t looking at me, he was looking at her. This has nothing to do with the cops. Nothing to do with the greenhouse.

  Everything is fine.

  Chapter 5

  I’ve never been called to the principal’s office. In fact, I’m pretty sure I’ve never even talked with the man in all my time of being at this high school. Still, I’m nervous as hell when I’m called to the front of the class, even though I know I haven’t done anything wrong. Maybe there’s something wrong with my schedule. Hopefully it’s not some kind of emergency.

  “Hi, Clarissa,” he says as we step out of the classroom and the heavy door swings shut behind us.

  “Hello…” I say, as my thoughts shoot off in different directions. Why is the principal walking with me? Even knowing I haven’t done anything wrong, I’m still a little scared right now.

  “I’d like you to join me in my office with Linda Bradley,” he continues, his steps much longer than mine so I have to rush to keep up with him.

  “Mrs. Bradley?” I say, totally confused. But then I remember what I saw this morning, and I’m pretty sure I know why the boss of my part time job is here at the school. “Is this about the greenhouse?”

  “Yes. I’m afraid some vandals have destroyed it. Linda Bradley asked me to get you because I hear you’ve had something to do with maintaining it.”

  I shrug. “I built it this summer. We were supposed to plant flowers in it for the kids.”

  “That’s a shame,” he says as we step into the front office. He leads me down the hallway and to his office, which is huge and has a whole wall of windows that faces the front of the school.

  Mrs. Bradley sits in one of the chairs, and she smiles at me as I enter. “Have you seen the damage?” she asks. Little frown lines cross her forehead.

  I nod. “I saw it from a distance this morning, but I haven’t been over there yet. What happened?”

  “I’m afraid it was vandalized,” Principal Walsh says. “The police have already looked into it, and I’ve asked for more time to find the culprits before they do anything.”

  “Oh, I don’t want to press charges,” Mrs. Bradley says, shaking her head. A strand of her auburn hair falls out of the bun on top of her head. “I would like restitution so we can buy the materials and rebuild.”

  She looks over at me, giving me this encouraging smile that I guess is supposed to make me feel better.

  “Is any of it salvageable?” I ask.

  They both shake their head. “I’m afraid the damage was extensive,” says Principal Walsh.

  My throat tightens. No, no, no, Clarissa. Don’t do this here, my brain screams. But my heart doesn’t listen, and soon hot tears are pouring from my eyes, rolling down my cheeks.

  I swipe them away as soon as they begin, but it’s no use. I keep thinking of the greenhouse, of all that hard work and sweat and blood I poured into it with Grandpa. Mrs. Bradley’s hand rubs my back.

  “It’s all right, sweetheart,” she says. “We’ll fix it.”

  I shake my head. “I can’t fix it. Not without my grandpa.”

  When I look up, both the principal and Mrs. Bradley are watching me with curious expressions. I take a deep breath and explain. “He has glaucoma. He did all the hard work this summer but now he’s mostly blind. He can’t help me build it again.”

  “We can hire someone,” Mrs. Bradley says. “It’s okay. We’ll get someone to build it.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not the same. I was doing this for my grandmother and now it’s just—not the same.”

  I look at my hands in my lap and try to remember all the work Grandpa did this summer. Building the wooden frame and raising it into place was the hardest part. Maybe Livi can help me and we can do it again. I’ll need tools and more strength than I have, though.

  The office door opens and a short woman with curly black hair enters. “I found something,” she says, handing Principal Walsh a flash drive. “I believe you were right.”

  “So it was a student who did this?” he says, frown lines deepening on his lips. He shakes his head. “Since the property lines are so close together, we’ve had trouble with students going to the daycare over the years. Usually they just hop the fence and play on the playground after hours. But this is unacceptable and not at all the kind of behavior I’d expect from a Robert Cullen High student.”

  He plugs in the flash drive and then turns his computer monitor sideways so we can all see it.

  The video is of security footage from the side of the school building. It’s black and white, in night vision mode, and the picture isn’t that clear, but I can make out my greenhouse in the distance. It’s still standing when the video starts.

  We all watch silently as a guy runs up to it. He’s swaying a little like he might be drunk. He turns around and yells in the distance. Then another guy runs up. They seem to argue for a minute, but we can’t hear anything because the video doesn’t have any sound.

  I watch the two figures as one of them picks up a hammer, my hammer, and swings it at my beautiful greenhouse.

  My heart plummets as the first hole cracks through the surface. The drunk guy throws his hands in the air victoriously and swings some more. It almost seems like the second guy is trying to talk him out of it, but before long, he’s taken up another tool and is smashing my greenhouse, too.

  My chest aches and I want to look away.

  “I’m sickened to say that these people are definitely high school students,” Principal Walsh says.

  “Wow,” Mrs. Bradley murmurs as we watch the guys swing together at one of the corner posts. It wobbles and shakes, but eventually it falls, taking half the roof with it.

  My tears have dried up, but it hurts so bad to watch these assholes rip apart my entire summer’s work. They jump on the green plastic walls, cracking them into bits so they can never be used again. My clay pots are thrown and smashed. The five gallon bucket Grandpa used as a chair gets slammed against the concrete foundation until it cracks in half.

  “What is wrong with people?” I say softly as I continue to watch the destruction.

  “Maybe they will get closer to the camera when they leave,” Principal Walsh says. “We need to find a way to identify them.”

  We keep watching the destruction on screen.
It lasts for over twenty minutes. When my entire greenhouse is destroyed, the two people stop and admire their work. They look like guys, but from the small, grainy video footage, it’s hard to tell for sure.

  When they decide to leave the scene, they don’t come closer to the school like we’d hoped. Instead they just walk the property line between the daycare and the school and head back to the road. But right before they leave the camera’s pathway, they walk under the light of a nearby streetlamp.

  The light illuminates the bright white logo on the front of their matching black hoodies.

  The Hornets Soccer team logo.

  Only a handful of students in this entire school have that jacket. They are all guys, and they’re all on the soccer team.

  “It should be easy to weed out who is responsible for this,” Principal Walsh says. “And when we do, we will get restitution for you, Linda.”

  Mrs. Bradley nods, then turns her attention to me. “It’ll be okay, Clarissa. We’ll get the greenhouse fixed again. I know how important it is to you.”

  I nod dumbly but I’m not really paying attention. All I can think about is the memory of that video, of those complete jerks who would destroy something that’s not theirs. I think of the soccer team hoodies, how all of those popular jocks walk around wearing it all day long.

  And then I think of my homeroom class where I sit next to three of them. They’re always loud and obnoxious, making jokes and whispering stupid stuff to each other when we’re supposed to be paying attention in class. Like Gavin Voss, who has a face that’s permanently cocky, and he’s so stuck up he thinks it’s okay to put his feet on someone else’s chair.

  I don’t know which one of these guys destroyed my grandpa’s last project, but as soon as I find out, I will make them pay.

  Chapter 6

  I’m bored to death in second period AP Chemistry when the speaker beeps with an announcement. My teacher sighs and lowers his dry erase marker from where he’d been writing equations on the board. This all boring stuff we learned last year, so I haven’t been taking notes.