Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 44

Cooper didn't let that stop him from claiming the seat in front of him. Vincent gave

a strained smile.

The remainder of the class was quiet. Uncomfortable. Cooper sat low in his seat,

utterly miserable. Behind him, he imagined Vincent doing the same.

It was only when the bell released them that Cooper realized they were headed in

the same direction, still walking in silence.

"Um...world history next?" he asked tentatively, almost dreading the answer.

Vincent hesitated. "Yeah."

They should have been ecstatic. Yet neither of them said another word, trudging to

Mr. Cryke's world history class in silence.

Cooper wanted to scream. Then he wondered if Vincent felt the same way.

Vincent's wasn't the only familiar face in that class. When they walked through the

door, Cooper spotted Ryan almost immediately, sitting on the far side of the room

with a hoodie and shorts on. He hadn't noticed Cooper. He scrolled through social

media, his expression one of such supreme boredom that it could have rivaled that

of Calla.

The thought of Calla bolstered Cooper's next decision. On a whim, he veered away

from the two open spots in the back that he'd initially been aiming for, and instead

chose the seat nearest Ryan. He almost collided with Vincent in the process, who

grumbled something unintelligible under his breath but took the seat behind him.

It took another few seconds for Vincent to realize why Cooper had suddenly

changed course. He relaxed as he caught sight of Ryan. "Oh. Sup, Ryan," he greeted

easily, nodding.

"Sup." Ryan barely glanced up from his phone.

"Hey," Cooper offered, trying for nonchalance. He felt acutely aware of the awkward

placement of his arms. And his hands. What the hell was he supposed to do with his

hands?

Ryan looked up at the sound of his voice. He blinked in surprise—and reluctance.

"Coop. Hey."

Ryan Kane. That's your target.

Funny. Calla had all but forced Cooper to make friends with the guy. She just hadn't

anticipated how that could backfire, especially considering Cooper's poor

playacting.

She's going to kill me when she finds out, he thought, hiding a grimace. But he hadn't

had much choice. Once Calla had thrown him to the wolf, he'd floundered and

latched on to the only life jacket he could get his hands on—gossip. Fake gossip.

He'd seen it a hundred times. A thousand times. Kids liked to talk trash. Why not

attempt to bond with Ryan over a little bit of dirt? The only catch being that Cooper

didn't have any dirt to share. He wasn't a gossip, like Stephanie. He didn't have his

finger on the pulse of the Greenwitch newswire.

But he did have an overactive imagination. And with his neck on the line, he had

more than enough incentive to make up a little white lie. Something, anything to get

Ryan talking. It had worked. Perhaps a little too well, based on Ryan's next

question.

"How's...?" His eyes darted to Vincent's face and then back to Cooper. He waved a

hand, hoping that Cooper would catch his meaning. "Y'know. Stuff."

Stuff. Code word for Calla. That's what Ryan wanted to know. All because Cooper

had lied . He'd lied, and now Ryan was under the impression that Calla was into hard

drugs and on the market for a new dealer.

"Oh. That. It's..."

Going to kill me in a murderous rage. But nevermind that.

"It's fine," he said instead. "Handled. For now."

Ryan gave a tight nod. Vincent watched their exchange, bewildered.

Cooper couldn't remember exactly how he and Ryan had gotten on the topic of bad

habits that night, sitting uncomfortably close on Jessica's love seat. But they had.

And it had started simply enough. Jess liked to drink a little too much. Blake had a

love-hate relationship with his vape. And so on. Until suddenly, they were verging

into darker waters. Cooper had thought it only prudent to bring up Jacob's bad

habits. And Ryan, after a moment's hesitation and a hefty swig from his cup, had

confirmed what Cooper already knew.

"He didn't just smoke. The guy s**t where he ate. Dumb, if you ask me. He was always

so dumb. Reckless. It's probably how he got killed."

"Reckless," Cooper agreed. "Still. The guy deserved better. And Calla...she felt bad

about the way the whole thing went down. Guilty, y'know."

That threw Ryan for a loop. "You're talking about their...disagreement?"

"If you want to call it that. Jacob couldn't get his hands on what she wanted," Cooper

explained. "She likes something a little stronger than what he sold. They argued. She

never got to apologize."

Ryan hadn't been given a chance to respond. Calla and Stephanie had returned from

their foray outside, and Jessica had quickly put together an impromptu toast to the

long gone.

An imaginary scenario. That's what Cooper had concocted. He'd taken elements of

the truth—Calla's verbal flurry with Jacob, and his own knowledge of Jacob's strict

policy on m*******a only, nothing else —and twisted it into something that he could

use to squeeze information from Ryan. Somehow, his inane plan had worked.

Moments after the toast, Ryan had turned to him, eager to confide in someone he

could trust. A confidant.

Cooper almost felt bad about the lie. But he'd gained Ryan's trust. And he'd gained

a sliver of insight about Jacob Stein.

"What are you two talking about?" Vincent whispered, making Cooper jump.

"What?" He glanced toward the front of the room. Mr. Cryke had no interest in going

over the syllabus, it seemed. He sat at the desk with a book in hand, his reader's

halfway down his nose. "Oh. Uh. OCD stuff."

He shrugged, embarrassed by the lie and hoping that Vincent would misinterpret it

as a more general embarrassment. He knew Cooper hated talking about his

compulsions in public.

"Right." Vincent seemed surprised that Cooper had spoken with Ryan about it at all.

You're getting good at this lying thing, Cooper. He hated the way Calla's voice

sounded in his head. Smug. And proud. Keep it up.

Cooper glanced at Ryan's profile. The mental voice knew nothing. He was no good

at this. Lying made him shifty, uncomfortable. And the lie had only worked because

it was such a fabrication of the truth. He'd had to throw Calla under the bus for

some imaginary drug addiction just to coerce an ounce of trust from Ryan.

Not exactly effective.

He'd only felt justified in doing so because of the hell that Calla had wrecked on his

life. That, and she had an alibi for Jacob's murder. She couldn't be a suspect, no

matter what disagreement she and Jacob had been in prior to his death. And, were

Ryan to ever share the information Cooper had given, there would be no evidence.

No text messages. No witnesses. And certainly no proof of any drug transactions.

Because Calla was innocent of the crimes he'd hung over her head.

A poor excuse. And one she would doubtless throw back in his face once she

discovered his deception.

"Have you seen that horror movie that just came out?" Ryan asked, the sudden shift

in conversation jarring Cooper. But then he remembered. Ryan and Cooper had

talked about a great many things on Friday—safer, more normal things.

He could be a killer, Cooper reminded himself, again and again. Never forget that.

And yet lumping Ryan in with the other suspects—all objectively horrible people,

save for the twins—was far more logical in theory than in practice. Just as they had

at Jessica's party, the two allowed the conversation to flow freely, easily bouncing

from topic to topic now that they'd shoved aside the heavy. Ryan liked video games

as much as the next guy. His favorite class was biology, no contest. He even owned

a pet iguana, which Cooper found cool beyond belief. All of this and more they

discussed while Mr. Cryke ignored the students, unwilling to tear his eyes away from

the pages of his book.

"You guys should come over to my place sometime," Ryan urged toward the end of

the twenty-minute period, catching Cooper by surprise. "I just got the new update

for World's End—"

"No way." Vincent leaned forward, investing in the conversation for the first time.

"How? It's not even out yet."

"I have my ways," Ryan admitted, his smile smug. "It's awesome. So much better

than the last version."

Cooper grinned. "I've been dying to try it out."

"Seriously. Come over anytime. I've been going stir-crazy in the house."

The bell rang and they stood. On a normal day they'd be heading to lunch, but that

wasn't for another hour. Cooper glanced down at his schedule. His last two classes

were psychology and P.E.

"Nice," Vincent commented, looking over his shoulder. "I have P.E. last, too."

"For real? I thought you had football stuff."

"Only in the fall. 'Sides, I gotta take my P.E. requirement like everyone else."

"That blows," Ryan commented as they left the room, the three of them heading

down the same hall. "I got my P.E. credit out of the way last semester. But now I'm

stuck with..." He frowned down at his schedule. "Political science and economics.

With Mrs. Kellie. Gross."

Vincent and Cooper made sympathetic noises, wishing him luck as he split off down

the next hall. Cooper watched him go, warring emotions fighting for dominance.

He liked the guy. Which meant he was definitely the killer.

Maybe if I make myself likable, he won't want to off me anymore, Cooper thought,

absently waving to Vincent as his friend ducked into his world religions class.

He knew what Calla would want him to do. She'd want him to get close to Ryan.

Discover and exploit his weaknesses. Squeeze an alibi out the kid—or one hell of a

good motive to kill.

Cooper feared what he would find if he dug too deep.

After a relatively tolerable day—Cooper went into

his fourth class with a sense of optimism. He had Vincent for three of his classes,

including his lunch period. Maybe this was his semester, after all.

Cooper's luck ran out in psychology.

Familiar red hair caught his eye. He scanned the room, ignoring Calla's smug smile.

How the hell was the room already this full? He desperately searched for an empty

seat far, far away from his parasitic partner in crime.

But alas.

Gritting his teeth, Cooper took the spot behind her. She turned around in her seat to

beam at him. "What are the odds?"