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  Paxton took a breath, but before he could say anything his mom called his name. We scrambled awkwardly to our feet. Paxton grabbed his crutch and stepped out into view of the patio door. “Yeah?”

  “There you are,” his mom said. I decided I’d die of embarrassment if she figured out Paxton and I had been thisclose to doing away with my virginity on the soft grass of their backyard, but she just said, “Will you please go talk to your sister and get her to come down for dessert?”

  “Sure.” Paxton waited for his mom to go back inside, then turned to me. “We’d better go in,” he said. “We’ll talk later. After your parents go, can you stay? My parents tend to crash pretty quickly after dessert.”

  “Yeah.” I leaned up and kissed the edge of his mouth, just because I could. And to hear Paxton’s breath catch. It made my stomach do little flips. We grinned at each other sort of shyly as we straightened our clothes. I picked a few blades of grass from Paxton’s hair, and then we stepped out from behind the shed.

  “Juliette seems really mad about the car,” I said as we walked back to the house. “She’s only had Cloudmonster for a month; I didn’t realize she was so attached already.”

  “Whatever. Our parents will get her a new car if she doesn’t screw it up by throwing tantrums like a brat.” Paxton sighed. “I’ll go talk some sense into her.”

  So we went inside, and pretended we’d just been out playing lawn darts. Paxton went upstairs, while I ducked into the hall restroom to make sure my hair and dress looked okay. Did my lips look swollen? I hoped no one would notice. My skin was flushed, so on my way to the den I grabbed the sweater I’d crammed in my purse earlier.

  I had pie and cranberry Bundt cake and my pumpkin cookies with the adults, and no one seemed to have any idea that the grin stuck on my face wasn’t because I was sating my sweet tooth. Paxton and Juliette never joined us, though. For a while their voices could be heard as murmurs upstairs when they raised intermittently, and I figured Juliette was refusing to play nice, but after a while it became clear that neither of them was returning.

  Finally my dad stood and helped my mom to her feet. “We should get going.” He glanced at me. “You walking, Rose, or riding with us?”

  “I, um, actually had some questions about calculus homework,” I said. “Paxton was going to help me.”

  “We’ll see you later, then,” my mom said. She kissed me on the forehead, and they left.

  “Wrap up some leftovers to take home with you before you go,” Mrs. Callaway told me before following her husband upstairs. I idled in the kitchen, putting turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes in Tupperware while I waited for Paxton to come down.

  Should I go up? But I had a feeling if we wound up next to his bed, talking about the situation just wasn’t going to happen. The thought made me flushed again, and I was about to go up and find him anyway when I heard the distinctive sound of someone navigating stairs on crutches. I went into the hallway smiling.

  Paxton was halfway down the stairs, but when he saw me he paused. His free hand clenched the railing, and instead of continuing downstairs he sat on the steps and held his crutch before him, sort of like a shield.

  “I have to tell you something.” Paxton spoke quietly, since his parents’ bedroom was the closest to the top of the stairs. I pitched my voice low too.

  “You’re going to tell me why you have a gorilla costume in your closet?” I joked.

  Paxton didn’t even crack a smile. Instead, his eyes got this strained look about them, and I knew whatever he said wasn’t going to be something I wanted to hear.

  The remains of my smile faded. “What?”

  Paxton looked down at his hands, then took a deep breath.

  “I’m the one who set the fire.”

  Chapter 23

  “What?” My ears weren’t working. They couldn’t be.

  “The boat.” Paxton’s face was grim. “I set the fire on the boat, and framed you.”

  “What are you talking about?” Was this a joke? But Paxton wasn’t smirking, or holding back a laugh.

  “I was angry about the math quiz,” he said. “So I set the fire.”

  “But ... you hurt your ankle.”

  Paxton shrugged. “It was a bitch, hobbling around that night, but ...” He winced at my expression. “It did give me a good alibi.”

  The first drops of humiliated anger squeezed past my shock. I’d known, hadn’t I, that Paxton could have done it, even with his hurt ankle. But he’d shown me those X-rays--which, now that I thought about it, showed only that he hadn’t broken any bones yet--and like an idiot I’d believed him. Hook, line, and sinker. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  “I thought, at the time, that you deserved it. But then we started hanging out again, and I started liking you again, and--”

  I held up a hand. My mind buzzed painfully, and my heart was doing this horrible erratic bump, like it was being crushed in a shop class vise. I felt about to throw up.

  “All that time, I was trying to find out who ... and you were laughing at me?” My voice was hoarse with the effort of being quiet. Maybe I should have yelled, should have woken his parents and the police and the whole world, but I felt so suddenly and epically humiliated that I couldn’t. After taking everything from me, Paxton had befriended me just to smirk behind my back. And I’d been so lonely and scared that I’d let him. Instead of figuring it out, instead of realizing that all Paxton’s weirdness once we started getting close again was from guilt at framing me, not guilt at liking his friend’s ex, I’d thrown myself at him.

  I’d kissed him.

  I’d freaking fallen for him.

  Paxton had ruined my life, and I’d given him my heart. I remembered the minutes behind the pool shed, and nearly died.

  My hands clamped themselves over my mouth by instinct, and I realized I was about to be sick, about to hurl turkey and pie and my horrible foolish heart onto the carpet in front of Paxton. I had to get out of here.

  Paxton was saying something, but my ears weren’t processing sound. I whirled, my feet tripping over each other before I righted myself.

  “Rose, wait--” Paxton said, but I was already grabbing my purse and out the door.

  ~ ~ ~

  I tossed and turned all night. Paxton had been behind it all along. All this time, all the moments we’d shared, were just a joke to him. I was a joke to him.

  Of course it had been Paxton. He had file folders bulging with stalker information, for crying out loud, and he’d hated me ever since I hurt him in eighth grade. He was Ryan’s friend, so of course he’d known about Ryan’s brother and Francesca. All that business about Georgette and Beverly had just been Paxton trying to distract me from figuring out the truth. He’d played sidekick so he could watch me scramble from up close.

  I felt so stupid.

  Morning brought nothing but more agonizing, and at seven-fifteen I dragged on jeans and a sweater and stalked through the dew to Paxton’s. There was so much I hadn’t said to him last night, so much I hadn’t screamed at him.

  I pounded on the door, reaching for calm in case it wasn’t Paxton who came to let me in.

  It was Juliette, and from her mussed hair and pajamas she looked like she’d just rolled out of bed. She blinked blearily at me. “Rose?”

  “Hey.” Should I apologize for how her parents had sold Cloudmonster to my parents again? Was she angry with me or them? One crisis at a time, I told myself. “Where’s Paxton?”

  Juliette stiffened. “He told you, didn’t he?”

  I stared at her. “You knew?” Was that why she’d refused to help at first, because she knew it had been Paxton all along? But Juliette frowned.

  “Wait. What are we talking about?”

  If she didn’t know, I didn’t want another spectator to
my humiliation. “I don’t know.” A semi-hysterical laugh bubbled up. “I just came for the leftovers, and to ... ask Paxton another calculus question.”

  “He’s not here,” Juliette said, but let me in. “I don’t know where he went.”

  “Oh.” There was nothing to do but head for the kitchen. I was wrangling Tupperware into a grocery bag when Mrs. Callaway walked in.

  “Good morning, Rose.” She’d just come back from somewhere; she was taking off her jacket.

  “Do you know where Paxton went?” My voice sounded raw, but Mrs. Callaway didn’t seem to notice.

  “I just dropped him off at Ryan’s,” she said. “Did you get enough potatoes?”

  “Oh. I could have driven him.” What was he doing at Ryan’s? “Um, yeah. Plenty of potatoes.”

  “I figured you’d be sleeping until noon on a day off from school.” Mrs. Callaway smiled. “Here. Do you have enough pie?”

  After depositing the bulging bag of food at home, I grabbed Cloudmonster’s keys and set out for Ryan’s house. What was Paxton doing there? He couldn’t be confessing, could he? Not when his prank had worked so well.

  Then again, things had changed between us over the last few weeks, and I didn’t think all of it was an act. If it had been, Paxton wouldn’t have told me the truth last night. Did he think there was any way I’d forgive him? Sure. Maybe when I forgot how it felt to be dragged off to the police station in the middle of the night.

  Which was to say, never.

  And as soon as I found him, I’d tell him that. At decibel levels that blew his eardrums.

  But when Cloudmonster and I charged into the Highland Manor neighborhood, flashing lights up ahead distracted me. A police cruiser and two of the neighborhood security cars waited ominously in front of Ryan’s driveway. I parked across the street and told the men guarding the driveway that I was a friend of the family. They shrugged and went back to their conversation, so whatever was going on wasn’t dangerous. I sidled past.

  Just as I reached the police cruiser in front of the mansion, people piled out the front doors. Two were uniformed policemen; one of them escorted a prisoner. They moved slowly, because the perp needed crutches.

  “Paxton?”

  His brown eyes were wide. “Rose,” he said, but the policemen hustled him into the backseat of the cruiser.

  “Rose,” a voice said at my side. Ryan. I met his green gaze in shock.

  “What’s going on? Paxton’s being arrested?”

  Ryan nodded angrily. “And charged. He admitted to setting the fire and framing you.” He took hold of my hand. “Jesus, Rose, I never thought it was Paxton. Paxton. He is going to jail for this, I promise you.”

  Paxton stared through the car window at me. Rather, at my hand. I pulled it from Ryan’s. Watching Paxton hauled off to jail for wronging me should feel exhilarating. Vindicating. But all I felt was scared.

  Ryan was still talking. “My dad’s twice as pissed as when he thought it was you. Then, I was able to talk him out of going to court, but this time ...” Ryan glared at Paxton’s frozen face through the cruiser window. “This time I’m not saying a thing.”

  “Ryan, please. Don’t arrest him. I need to talk to him.” But Ryan just looked at me.

  “It’s true, then?”

  “What?”

  “He kissed you.”

  My eyes widened. Ryan’s mouth flattened. “That bastard. I’m going to nail him to the wall. We can even try to charge him as an adult; his birthday’s in a couple months. And since it’s premeditated ...”

  “Ryan ... he’s your friend!”

  “Not anymore. Paxton’s been acting weird ever since Homecoming, and we’ve barely spoken this last week.” The police cruiser eased down the driveway. The other one followed. Ryan glared after them. “Now I know why. No friend of mine would set my boat on fire, frame my girlfriend, and then try to take her away from me.” Ryan’s hand clenched on mine again. “He is going to fry.”

  “Try to ...” I pulled my hand away, too shocked to point out that Ryan had taken himself away from me. “Ryan, you can’t charge him with a felony. Please.”

  The green eyes flashed to mine. “He kissed you. Did you kiss him back?”

  I flushed. “It was before I found out. Which was last night.” My face felt blood red. Ryan glared in the direction of the cars rolling away.

  “Don’t worry, Rose. We’ll make him pay.”

  It was all I’d wanted, back when I’d taken my nosedive into the pool of alleged criminality. Now I had Cloudmonster back. Alina back. Ryan back. Everything I’d lost, plus the real criminal was under arrest. I should feel like the world had righted itself.

  But everything felt wrong.

  “I have to go,” I told Ryan, and jogged down the driveway. The cruisers and security cars were gone now. I half-expected Ryan to follow me, but he didn’t.

  I ran into Alina at the gate. She had on dark jeans and her hair was flat-ironed. She even wore eyeliner. I realized I hadn’t bothered to so much as brush my hair.

  “I saw the police from my window,” Alina said. “Is everything okay?” She glanced up the driveway, and I turned to see Ryan staring at us. He waved, and Alina waved back. It occurred to me that Ryan wouldn’t want Paxton’s blood so badly if he hadn’t found out we’d kissed. It occurred to me that someone had to have been the one to let him in on that little secret.

  And it occurred to me that you didn’t wear eye-liner to check out a neighborhood disturbance unless there was someone you wanted to impress.

  “I can’t believe you told him.” It came out like a snarl.

  Alina’s brow furrowed. “Told who what?”

  “Ryan. About the kiss. I can’t believe you told him!”

  Her eyes widened. “Rose, I didn’t.”

  “Sure.” My hands fisted at my sides. “You like Ryan, don’t you? I’ve seen you guys hanging out.”

  “Rose, I would never--”

  “Save it.” I’d thought things could be different with Alina and me now, but she couldn’t change--she was a false friend, just like Paxton had always said.

  Paxton. Suddenly it occurred to me that he was ruining his epic prank, clearing my name and getting himself sent to jail ... for me. Because he ... no, I couldn’t even think it. He was doing this because he felt guilty, because his conscience had finally eaten enough of a hole in his wall of anger that he couldn’t live with himself anymore. He certainly hadn’t confessed just because he cared for me. Right?

  I don’t want him to go to jail.

  Sweat trickled down the small of my back, and my neck felt clammy in the cool November morning. Alina was saying something, but I didn’t want to hear anything she said ever again. I ran across the street to Cloudmonster. My phone rang inside my purse. It was probably Ryan, or Alina. I ignored it and drove home.

  Surprised to see my dad’s car in front of the Callaways’ house, I parked in my driveway and jogged over. Inside, I found everyone in the kitchen. Mr. Callaway was putting a coat on. “I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ll go get him,” he told his wife. Before I could say anything he was out the door.

  Mrs. Callaway’s face was pale. “Paxton’s been arrested,” she told me unsteadily. “Mr. Appleton just called; he sounded furious. He says ...” Mrs. Callaway shook her head. “None of this makes sense. He said that Paxton set the fire, and framed you for it.” She stared at me. “Do you know what’s going on?” I shook my head. I couldn’t talk about it. We all went into the dining room and sat tensely where the night before we’d devoured turkey. The adults talked about the situation while Juliette and I exchanged frightened glances.

  Why would Paxton confess after all this time? As a grand gesture, to clear my name so I might forgive him? It made my throat hurt. He obviously hadn’t cons
idered that Ryan and his dad might not let him off the hook the way they had me.

  Before long, Mr. Callaway returned. Alone. “The judge denied Paxton bail.” Mr. Callaway looked furious. “Trent Appleton golfs with him, so this has to be coming from him.”

  “What are we going to do?” Mrs. Callaway said.

  “Can’t the lawyers cut a deal, like they did for Rose?” my dad asked.

  “Trent is refusing to even entertain the idea,” Mr. Callaway said. The blood rushed from my face; across from me, Juliette looked stricken as well. Mr. Callaway rubbed his wife’s shoulders bracingly, and they sat down. “Don’t worry. We’ll call Upton & Son; they’re the best. Paxton will be fine.”

  “Really?” Juliette said. The misery slid from her face as her dad nodded.

  “Really. Don’t you worry; this will all turn out just fine.”

  Juliette sighed in relief, and my gaze caught on her expression. I’d seen a lot of guilt on a lot of faces today, and hers was right there at the surface. Only for a second, though; once her dad assured her Paxton would be okay, it disappeared. I frowned.

  The adults continued talking, but I barely noticed. I kept watching Juliette. Her gaze met mine, then pulled away as if burned. I felt as if I’d fallen from the top of a cheer pyramid and landed on concrete; for a moment I couldn’t breathe. Juliette slid out of her chair and went upstairs, but it didn’t stop the connections forming in my head. I remembered last night: she and Paxton had argued upstairs, and then he’d confessed. And this morning Juliette had asked if Paxton told me, then seemed confused when I asked if she knew. What if ...

  Suddenly I realized the table was quiet. The adults were all staring at me.

  “What?”

  “Do you know why Paxton would do this?” Mrs. Callaway asked. “You two have always seemed to get along.”

  None of them knew about the cranberry juice, or the pop quiz, or any of the pranks in between. But suddenly I wasn’t sure they mattered.