They might have been home already.

No, if they were home, his father would have woken him with a patented David Dorsey alarm clock. Right to the jaw. No, they weren’t home yet, but they would be soon enough.

He pulled the comforter up over his head and tried to go back to sleep. But sleep wouldn’t come. When he’d barged into Haverford’s office and confessed to a crime—and a breach of school rules—that he hadn’t committed, his only consideration had been saving Sloane from a punishment she didn’t deserve.

He hadn’t stopped to think about the punishments he would have to face.

His mother had started calling within minutes of the security guard escorting him off campus. Though his father hadn’t called once, Tru knew this wasn’t a secret his mother would keep.

He might have had a short reprieve while they were off recreating their honeymoon in Galveston, but as soon as they got home, the fight would be epic.

Well, if he was going to die, he might as well spend his last hours doing something he enjoyed: watching movies.

He was halfway through Return of the Jedi when he heard the garage door opening. If he hid out in his room, things would only be worse. He was tired of hiding. Tired of cowering, of sneaking through his life. If he could stand up for Sloane, he could stand up to his father. So he paused the movie—only somewhat optimistic that he would be alive later to finish it—and headed downstairs to meet the coming storm head on.

When his mother walked through the door alone, he held his breath. Waiting.

But the door remained shut. His father never followed.

“Where’s Dad?” he asked.

“He had to go into the office,” Mom explained. “Some big new case.”

“I don’t—” Tru shook his head, not understanding. “Didn’t you tell him about the expulsion?”

To his shock, his mother stepped forward and placed her hands on his face. “Why didn’t you tell Principal Haverford the truth?”

“The truth?” he echoed. What was she talking about?

“We went to the school as soon as we got into town,” she explained. “To see if they could be convinced to reinstate your enrollment.”

Convinced as in bribed. His father wasn’t afraid to throw money around if it would give him what he wanted.

“While we were there,” his mother continued, “Sloane came in and told us everything.”

His heart slammed against his chest. “Everything?”

He had no idea what everything meant, but his breath quickened more than he would like.

His mother stepped close, her voice a gentle whisper. “She told us the two of you spent the night together. That you couldn’t have been the vandal.”

Tru was stunned. “She did?” he asked dumbly. “Why would she do that?”

He hadn’t meant to ask the second question out loud. It just…came out. He had tried to save her, to save her chances of getting out of this hellhole before it sucked her in as deep as it had him. Why would she throw that away?

“The real question,” his mother replied, “is why didn’t she say anything in the first place?”

Tru couldn’t seem to make sense of what his mother was telling him. Sloane had lied. To protect him. She had lied, even knowing that it would probably destroy her chances of getting back to New York.

“It’s complicated,” he told his mother.

But in truth, it had just gotten a lot simpler.

His mother frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

He knew why he had confessed to the vandalism: to protect someone he cared about. If she had fabricated this alibi for the same reason, then he had reason to be happy. For the first time in as long as he could remember, he had something to genuinely smile about.

Chapter Nineteen

“Hey.”

The Tru who walks up to me before school the next day isn’t the same Tru I’ve known for just over a couple weeks. Gone is that cocky, charming smile. The mischievous glint in his eyes. The arrogant tilt to his head.

No, the Tru who stands before me today is totally subdued. Raw. True.

“Hey,” I say back. “Principal Ben let you come back?”

He nods. “Thanks to you.”

His clothes are slightly less disheveled than usual. The ironic tie that hangs loose around his white button-down is actually pretty straight. And his shirt is tucked in. Well, half tucked in. I can see the white hem hanging out below his black jacket in the back.

He has never looked more sincere.

And I have never felt the urge to kiss him more.

I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” he says, stepping closer. “Thank you.”

With only a few inches separating us, his head hanging low so he can whisper, it would only take a little lift. I would only have to rise on my toes an inch or two to close the distance.

But we’re still in an uncertain place, and I’m not sure that will make anything better. And I’m not sure that I want to push things in that direction.

My relationship history is rocky enough. I’m going home soon, hopefully. Anything between us would only complicate my leaving.

“You’re welcome,” I answer, turning away from him to busy myself with my books. “But I didn’t do it for you.”

“No?” he says, leaning against the locker next to mine.

I don’t have to look at him to know that the cocky smirk has returned. I can hear it in his voice.

“No,” I say, slamming my locker shut and whirling to face him, “I did it for me.”

His brows draw together, confused, like he can’t see what I could possibly get out of saving his ass from Principal Ben’s lawnmower. But he’s still smiling.

“I didn’t vandalize the school,” I explain. “And I know you didn’t.”

He shrugs one shoulder.

“But someone did. That someone clearly wanted me to take the fall for it.” My blood boils at the very thought. “Someone knew I would be blamed and wanted me kicked out because of it.”

His smile falls. He considers my words for a moment before answering. “You’re right.”

I give him an obviously shrug.

He runs a hand over his shaggy hair, sending the straight, shiny locks into every direction. My fingers itch to smooth them back into place.

“Who would do that?” he asks. “Who would want you out of NextGen?”

“Not only that,” I say. “Who even knew about the original vandalism?”

“Aim and me,” he says. His mouth twists into a wry smirk. “I didn’t tell anyone.”

“I know,” I say. “You’re good with secrets.”

We start walking down the hall, heading toward the AGD classroom.

“I haven’t made any enemies that I know of,” I say as we turn a corner. “I can’t see any of the faculty doing this. Aimeigh’s my friend. She has no reason to want me gone, and she swears she hasn’t told anyone else. She thinks it’s Jenna.”

“For real?” Tru sounds surprised.

“Yeah. She thinks Jenna overheard the conversation when I told you guys the truth,” I explain. “Remember she came up to us right after?”

He nods slowly, like he remembers but doesn’t necessarily believe.

“Jenna is a weird one,” he says, “I’ll give you that. But pull off something like this?”

“That’s what I thought. But I don’t know who else to suspect.”

“Yeah, I guess…”

We reach the end of Building C and the door to Mrs. K’s classroom.

“Want to meet up for lunch?” he asks. “Maybe we can brainstorm some ways to smoke Jenna out.”

“Sounds good.” I nod. “I’ll bring Aimeigh. We can meet at that same picnic table.”

He smiles at me. For a moment, just a fleeting instant, he pauses like he wants to lean in. Wants to kiss me good-bye.

And for that same instant, I want him to.

Is it possible he’s feeling the same pull that I am? Are we back in that place? Before the vandalism, before Abbey Road?

Then he pulls back. “See you at chow time.”