Page 5 of The Pawn

Tanner ducks beneath the rope and heads towards the front porch of the chapel, steps confident and daring, his semi-permanent tattoo rippling as he glances over his shoulder towards Lukas. “Don’t be a wet blanket. This is the wholeraison d’êtreof doing this stupid tour. You and I have both seen all the buildings that we’re allowed in anyway.”

Pushing aside the rope, he takes the stairs two at a time, ignoring the creaking and groaning that follows his heavy footsteps. Then he slips into the darkness of the chapel, completely uncaring of the danger—which of course doesn’t touch him or his expensive designer sneakers.

Lukas eyes me. A strange tingle slides down my spine, followed by immediate resentment that he makes me feel anything at all. Apologetically, he says, “I guess we can always do the rest of the tour without him...”

Mom gives Lukas a weak smile. “We can wait. I don’t mind—I have the latest Danielle Steele in my purse.”

Annoyance rises in me, sharp and hot. Of course my mother would let these rich boys run all over her. She does mind; we both know it. But she’ll inconvenience herself to death for their mere amusement.

“He might come back.” Lukas doesn’t seem convinced of his own words. “Or maybe I can go in there and get him to come out...”

“Don’t worry yourself,” Mom says. “The dorms will still be there when he gets out. We shouldn’t leave him behind. He could get hurt, after all.”

Under his breath Wally mutters, “It would serve him right.” He eyes me, leans close and adds in my ear, “I’m starting to favor the gorgeous European over the sizzling hot Southerner.”

I give him a wan smile, unable to even fake picking one of them. It makes my stomach twist just to imagine it. “I can’t believe this.” Staring into the darkness of the chapel, I feel a white-hot irritation rise inside me. “It’s not like he’s going to find the ghost inside there. It’s just a dirty old chapel."

“Technically,” Lukas says, his voice smoothly clipping into a British accent for a moment, “Marthaisin there. In an urn on the mantel, but she’s there. She didn’t have any family to claim her.”

My stomach drops. An orphan bullied to death right here on campus. No wonder it wasn’t on the website.

We wait. Mom takes her mass market paperback out of her purse and cracks it open. I watch Lukas glance her way, noticing the way his eyebrows lift at the sight of it. No doubt he’s wondering why she doesn’t have an eReader, mentally calculating the worth of her thrift store clothing. Tanner knew at the sight of our little group that he was looking at a scholarship student; polite Lukas no doubt saw the same and just didn’t say it aloud.

I can practically feel his scorn. It burns the back of my neck.

If we were rich, we wouldn’t be standing around waiting for some dumbass to get out of the condemned haunted chapel. Our tour guide wouldn’t be a student who replaced another student. We’d be shown around by the Dean or at least a faculty member;theywould wait for us, not the other way around.

Nothing makes it clearer that these boys are the Elites than the ease with which they make my mother stand on the sidewalk, squinting at tiny letters on thin paper, at the mercy of their whims. Even Wally is starting to look bored and annoyed. Sweet, gentle Wally who drove us all the way here, who was my brother’s best friend, who found him with me.

I swore I would make the Elites pay.

That can’t exactly start by standing around waiting for them and biting my tongue.

“I’ll go get him.”

My mother’s head jerks up at my words, and she frowns at me. “Brenna, sweetie—”

“It’s no big.” Swinging under the rope, I send a patient smile her way. “If it didn’t break under his weight, it won’t break under mine. Wally, you stay with Mom.”

Lukas hurriedly says, “You don’t have to. I can go get him. In my experience, it's dangerous to follow Tanner Connally to a second location—especially for girls like you.”

I look at him. Really look at him, with him looking back at me. It feels like a moment; I almost believe that his clever eyes see me.

Then my hand throbs, and I realize I’ve grabbed the snake bite scar reflexively. I can’t forget; I won’t let go. For Silas.

“You’ve been useless so far,” I tell him, ignoring my mother’s sharp intake of breath at my sudden rudeness. “So I’ll take care of it, since you clearly won’t.”

"You don't have to go in alone. I can go with you."

He steps forward, but I wave him off. "You'd only slow me down."

I turn before he can respond, shrug off the feeling of his gaze landing between my shoulder blades, and follow Tanner’s footsteps up and into the dark.

What’s the worse that can happen, after all?

If I die, at least I won’t be alone anymore.

Chapter 3

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