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

  Above us, the principal’s voice rings out through the speaker.

  “Attention Robert Cullen High School students. It has come to my attention that two of you participated in the vandalism of a greenhouse that belongs to Little Lone Stars Daycare next door.”

  What? That old building didn’t belong to the school?

  He continues, “I am asking the persons responsible to come forward immediately. If you know any information that will lead to finding the culprits, please come forward. Tips can be made anonymously through the school’s website under the link that says contact us. I hope everyone understands that when one student does something terrible, it reflects badly on all of us. Please come forward immediately. Thank you.”

  I chew on the inside of my lip until it bleeds. My teacher turns back to the board and keeps writing his equations. I glance around the classroom and no one seems to care about what we just heard. This is an AP class, so it’s full of smart people who usually never do anything wrong. Do they all assume someone else did it? That no one in this room is capable of mindless destruction?

  I tap my pen rapidly against the desk. I can’t believe that thing belonged to the daycare. The idea of destroying a piece of school property is kind of hilarious, especially one that’s not in use. But now that I know it wasn’t even on our campus, I feel like shit.

  A new type of fear slivers its way up my spine when I think of what would happen to me at home if my parents found out what I did. My dad is hard enough to deal with on a day when he’s not pissed at the world. My palms go sweaty at the very thought of him finding out the truth.

  I shake my head and roll my shoulders, telling myself to get it together.

  I don’t know why they made that announcement. They clearly don’t know who did it, so it could be anyone. Someone who doesn’t go to school anymore, or even a total stranger just passing through town. I take a deep breath and tell myself to chill out. They won’t find out that it was me and TJ. They just won’t.

  After class, TJ practically slams into me in the hallway. His eyes are wide. “Dude, you keep your mouth shut.”

  “About what?” I say, shoving him off me as we walk to our third period class.

  “You know what,” he hisses.

  “Dude, shut up. Just don’t even talk about it. No one will find out.”

  He shoves me on the arm. “You better not crack and go narc on me.”

  “Why would I tell on you?” I say in a hushed voice. “I’d be telling on myself too, you dumbass. My lips are sealed.”

  TJ nods once, his jaw tight. “Good.”

  *

  I’ve pretty much forgotten the whole thing until seventh period athletics. As soon as I hit the locker room and change into my practice soccer uniform, I realize the loud rock music isn’t playing like it normally is from Coach’s office.

  As we file out of the locker room and onto the field, Coach tells us to stand in line in front of the bleachers.

  “Have a seat,” he says. He seems pissed, which is odd because Coach is usually laid back and fun. Two people down, TJ is glaring at me and I have no idea why.

  “You know where I just came from?” Coach asks, but it’s in that way where we know he doesn’t want us to answer. “A meeting with the police and the school administration. I spent an hour watching a security video, trying to figure out which of my athletes were the two men responsible for vandalizing a small business’ greenhouse.”

  I nearly crap myself on the spot. I don’t dare look over at TJ so I don’t give us away. Coach is taking turns staring us all down. I lift my eyebrows like I’m totally shocked to hear this news, like I can’t believe one of my teammates did something so stupid.

  “Next time you decide to commit a crime, make sure you’re not on a security camera, and make damn sure you’re not wearing the Hornet’s soccer hoodie.”

  He paces the length of the bleachers where the fourteen of us are sitting. “I was so proud of my varsity team this summer when we were doing training. And now, on the first day of school, you’ve gone and ruined our reputation.”

  “Not all of us!” Mickey Russo says. “You said it was two people! You can’t blame this on all of us!”

  Coach whirls on him. “This is a team. What one of you does reflects on all of you.” He turns back to face us, his eyes narrowed. “Two of you are guilty and I hope you both come forward. I’ll give you thirty seconds to be honorable and do it now.”

  He goes silent and we all sit here. My heart is pounding, but I know he doesn’t know who actually did it or he would have taken us to the principal already. I casually glance down and then look slightly to my left. TJ is looking straight at me. I look away.

  The thirty seconds seems to take forever. No one says a word. No one does anything.

  Eventually, Coach looks at his watch and then back at us. “I’m very disappointed. Get up and hit the field. We’ll be doing drills all day today.”

  A chorus of groans echoes what I’m thinking. Drills are hardcore workouts. Burpees, pushups, sprints. They suck.

  Coach waves his hand to shut us up. “Until the two people responsible for the vandalism fess up, you’ll be doing drills every practice. I’m tempted to forfeit all of our games as well.”

  “Fucking turn yourself in,” Mickey yells, glowering at his teammates.

  “Yeah!” someone else says.

  I nod like an idiot, like I agree with them. The guilty person should just turn themselves in.

  I’ve never felt more stupid in my life.

  We hit the field and do drills until my chest aches and my leg muscles are screaming. Everyone bitches about it, and the guys keep telling each other to just turn yourself in if you did the vandalism. Carlos Valdes even makes a stand at one point, saying how do we know those hoodies in the video are even real, or that two other people, maybe players from our rival team didn’t steal our hoodies to commit this crime on purpose.

  I have to admit, I get behind that one. We all talk it out while doing the drills, coming up with scenarios where maybe the hoodies were faked, made with a homemade screen printing machine for the sole purpose of malice.

  Coach doesn’t care about any of our theories, though. He just makes us do drills until our two hours is over and we all feel like we’re going to die.

  I hit the locker room and shower quickly. All I want to do is get home and take another shower, one with actual hot water, and then down some pain meds to soothe my aching muscles. I thought I was in pretty good shape before today. But doing two hours of drills really wears you out.

  The locker room is quieter than usual as we pack up to head home. It’s like everyone is suspicious of everyone else. We’re all looking for someone to blame for the extra drill punishment we all had to endure. I keep to myself, knowing the blame lies solely with TJ and me, and feeling like absolute shit for it.

  But there’s no way I can turn myself in now. My dad would kill me. The team would hate me. TJ would be pissed. Not to mention, it would be embarrassing as hell.

  I grab my keys and head out to the parking lot, realizing I’m one of the last guys to leave. I guess everyone else was so pissed and exhausted that they rushed home. I walk slowly, my legs still aching, making my way out to my truck which is parked on the last row. Now I wish I hadn’t gotten to school late today so I could have parked closer and saved myself this agonizing walk.

  I glance over at the destroyed greenhouse as I pass it, noting that it’s totally in the boundaries of the daycare’s property. How had I not noticed that before? The grass is even a little greener over there because they have a sprinkler system installed.

  I nearly trip over my own feet when I see someone sitting there, at the heap of rubble that used to be a greenhouse.

  She’s folded her knees up to her chest, and her chin rests on top of them. I recognize her hair first. It’s the girl from my homeroom class. Clarissa something.

  I get into my truck and watch her. I wonder if she needs a ride home
. There’s only two cars left in the parking lot, mine and Coach’s. But she’s just sitting there, not looking like she’s in a hurry to leave.

  Why would anyone want to sit by an old greenhouse?

  She lifts her head and uses both of her hands to wipe under her eyes. Is she crying?

  Over a stupid greenhouse?

  I bite on my lip. I don’t even know this girl but now I’m dying to ask her what she’s doing, mourning the loss of something that belongs to a daycare. But just like earlier today when I could have come clean, I don’t do what I should do. If the way that girl treats me in class is any indication, she doesn’t want me poking around in her life trying to ask what’s wrong. So I let it go, start my truck and drive away.

  Chapter 7

  “You can’t go wrong with a good vegetable,” Grandpa says. “Something kids like to eat, like maybe green peas or even sunflowers where they can eat the seeds.”

  He feels for his coffee cup on the end table and then gently lifts it to his face, feeling the rim of the mug so he knows where to drink from. “Just don’t do tomatoes. Kids hate tomatoes.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I say. I’m sitting next to him on the couch, picking at a bowl of cereal for dinner. It’s been four days since my greenhouse was destroyed, and I still haven’t found the strength to tell Grandpa about it. I’m starting to think I just won’t say anything.

  His going blind is the worst thing ever, but at least now he’ll never drive past the daycare and see for himself that I’ve lied. Plus, I tell myself I’m only lying to make him feel better. He’d be devastated if he knew the truth. This greenhouse is his last project ever.

  This past weekend I did basically nothing but sit around and feel sorry for myself. I worked at the daycare on Friday after school, and I kept the kids busy with a movie. Only a couple of them asked about the greenhouse, which I’d promised would be ready when school started, and I told them I still needed a few days.

  But really, I have no idea what to do. Mrs. Bradley told the principal she’d accept reimbursement for the cost of our materials that were destroyed. She said if I can’t rebuild it myself, we can either decide to scrap the project all together, or she can have the school pay for the cost of hiring someone else to build it. Right now, we’re in limbo.

  The principal vows that he’ll find the two students responsible for the damage, but until then, we’re not really doing much of anything.

  I want to build the greenhouse back. I want it back. I want to make the kids happy and I want to see my Grandma’s legacy go on for another generation. I’d also like to stop lying to Grandpa. Once it’s built back, then I can tell him the truth about what we’re planting each month. I can share true stories about the kids at the daycare instead of making them up.

  But I know I can’t build that thing by myself, and hiring a contractor just seems so wrong. This greenhouse was built my hand, not by a professional. I want it to have that rustic handmade look.

  At night, I do fifty pushups before bed, telling myself that I can be strong enough to do this alone. I can’t give up on my greenhouse, or my kids at the daycare. I made them a promise, and I will see it through.

  On Tuesday morning, I walk into class exhausted from yet another night of fitful sleep. I can’t stop replaying that security camera video in my head. I can’t stop seeing those two assholes smashing up my creation. In my dreams, the faces turn closer to the camera, and suddenly come into focus. But every time when I’m about to see who it is, I’ll burst awake and the dream will be gone.

  I heave a sigh and walk to my desk in homeroom.

  The three soccer players are chatting like they do every morning until Mrs. Lin shuts them up. And like usual, they’re all wearing those stupid hoodies.

  Although, unlike usual, I decide not to ignore them. “Good morning,” I say, making the barest eye contact with Gavin Voss before I slide into my seat.

  “Ice Queen talks,” one of his idiot friends says from the next row over.

  Normally, I’d ignore him, but since I’m trying something new, I turn and give him a smile.

  “Sometimes.”

  “Sometimes you talk, or sometimes you’re an ice queen?” he says. He’s shorter than Gavin, with a dark tan and shaggy black hair. I think his name is TJ, but I’m never sure with the jocks because I’m not friends with any of them.

  I shrug, and try for a coy smile. “Both.”

  Then I turn back around. Baby steps. If I want to trick these guys into thinking I’m their friend, I’ll need to be casual about it. Maybe if I can win one of them over, they’ll tell me who destroyed my greenhouse. They’re a team, after all. I’m sure they all know exactly who did it.

  Maybe if I can get one of them to crack…

  A few seconds later, there’s a tap on my shoulder. I glance to my right, smelling his cologne before I see him.

  I lift an eyebrow.

  Gavin Voss leans forward, his face just inches from mine. “I thought you hated me,” he whispers.

  I lift one shoulder in a shrug. “Hate is a strong word.”

  “Sorry I had my feet on your desk.”

  I hear his chair squeak as he sits back in his desk. I swallow. Here I was thinking these jocks are total assholes, but maybe some of them are okay. He did apologize after all.

  Mrs. Lin shushes everyone when the announcements come on the speaker and I sit here trying to focus, but I can’t stop thinking of that smell of his cologne. It’s like the woods and leather all mixed into one. It makes me want to smell it again.

  Fifteen minutes later, the bell rings, and I rise from my chair, sliding my backpack over my shoulders. Gavin stands too, and the only thing I can think for a whole ten seconds is that this boy is taller than me. By about three or four inches, too.

  He looks me right in the eyes, his brown hair glinting under the florescent lights. His forearm flexes as he holds onto his backpack strap.

  Get it together, Clarissa.

  I exhale. “Have a nice day, boys.” I smile and glance at the other two soccer players so it doesn’t seem like I’m just talking to Gavin.

  “You too, Ice Queen,” TJ says, nodding at me. The other guy who sits behind him, is a little stocky for a soccer player. I give him a quick look before turning to leave, and I mentally cross him off my list. The two guys on the video were tall and thin. That guy is too short and thick to be one of the culprits.

  He’s off my shit list for now.

  But the rest of the soccer players are all suspects, including the gorgeous Gavin Voss.

  Oh my God, Clarissa, don’t call him gorgeous.

  “Hey,” Gavin says right as he appears by my side as we step into the hallway. “I have AP History next. What about you?”

  “Math,” I say, glancing over at him as we walk. Actually…I have to glance up a little bit. This guy is one of the rare guys who are taller than I am. “You’re in AP history?”

  “What? You think I’m too stupid for AP classes?”

  His lazy grin stretches wider. I notice that his lips are a shake of pink I’ve never seen before. His eyes are blue, like a swimming pool, and it’s hard to look away.

  I shrug. “I didn’t say that.”

  “But you thought it.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  The truth is, I did. I guess I have such a bad impression of the soccer players that I assume they’re all as stupid as the balls they kick around.

  “I’m in all AP classes,” he says, dodging a group of students in the way. When it does, his arm brushes against mine and sends tingles down my spine. Walking with a guy reminds me of when I dated Shawn. We were only together the last month of school, but it was glorious having someone to walk to class with you. Now, it almost feels the same way again.

  “Well, I’m not in any AP classes,” I say with a sigh. “I’m as average as it gets.” I blink. “Well, except for—” but then I shut the hell up. I can’t believe I almost spilled my biggest embarrassment—how tall I am
.

  Gavin doesn’t seem to notice or care. His smile is a thousand times more sincere than the sneer he gave me on that first day of school. “If you ever need a tutor, let me know.”

  I don’t say anything as I turn down the math hallway. He’d said he’d had history next, which is all the way across the school. So why is he still walking with me?

  I look over at him and find that he’s watching me, too.

  “Hey, um, it’s Clarissa, right?” He actually seems nervous.

  “Yes.”

  “Cool. So, Clarissa,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “I think I saw you the other day after school. You were sitting on the grass between the school and the daycare next door?”

  I bite down on my lip. When the hell did he see me? I thought I was alone. And I definitely did some crying that day, so even though I try to act calm, I can feel heat rising in my cheeks.

  But maybe this can be the first way I try to crack away at the soccer team, gaining their trust to find out who ruined my greenhouse.

  I shrug. “There was this greenhouse there, and someone smashed it.”

  I study him carefully, waiting for those blue eyes of his to give away that he knows something about it. He just blinks.

  “Why would someone smash it?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but I work at that daycare so it really pissed me off.”

  “I see.”

  I take a deep breath and lower my voice so I don’t seem pissed off. “I just wish I knew who did it, you know?” I have no idea where I’m going with this, and being a sneaky spy has never been my strong point. So I think fast and come up with something that might make him tell me what he knows. “I just really want to know who did it and why, because now I’m worried that, like, someone targeted me or something.”

  His eyes widen. “Why would someone target you?”

  I shrug and try to look pitiful. “I don’t know, but it was kind of my greenhouse, so I worry that maybe someone hates me and they did it on purpose.”