Page 116 of More Than Chemical
Dallas’s dad spun his chair around and rolled up to his computer at the credenza. “Yeah. I think I’d have all of that. I had a casher’s check made out to the booster club.”
I sat quietly as he used his mouse and his keyboard to get into his bank account.
“Okay, I need to go back in time here. I went to the bank in early summer last year.” He kept scrolling. “Here it is. And look at that. I can print the cleared check and the transaction.”
“Perfect.” My chest was feeling lighter. This was happening. Things were coming together.
The printer on the other side of the office hummed and then printed.
We both stood, and Dallas’s dad fetched the pages.
He looked at them and then handed them over to me. “I think this will do it.”
“Thanks so much, Mr. Reynolds—I mean, Mike. I have a good feeling about this.”
“Me too.” We shook hands. “Thank you for doing this for my son. I’m not sure how the two of you met, but I’m sure he’s going to appreciate what you’re doing.”
“It’s a story, Mr. Reynolds. A long one.”
“I see.”
I put the printout in my bag. “Also, if you wouldn’t mind, could you keep our meeting to yourself for a little while? Maybe a week or so?”
“You mean not tell Dallas?”
“Right.” I fiddled with the strap on my bag. “I just don’t want him to get his hopes up, not until the director actually does the work.”
“Sure. I can do that.”
I left the dealership and checked my phone. Next stop, the university’s athletic complex to hand over the documents.
Forty-Two
The Truth
It was Thursday. One week since I’d dropped Dallas’s dad’s bank statements off at Plunkett’s office, and one day until the sentencing. My friends had convinced me to take a break from the cave I’d been living in and go out.
They thought I had good reason to celebrate. I’d received my grade on the chemistry test. I’d gotten a B-plus. A freakingB-plus.
Jay had given me a high five so hard it had hurt. I was back in the game. Ready to prove that I could do this. By the end of this year, I might have the grades I needed.
But that didn’t mean that everything was falling into place. Not even close.
Thirty minutes ago, I had to down an energy drink because, well, I still hadn’t shaken my insomnia. Then I’d changed four times. I just couldn’t find the right clothes. The Station was an over-eighteen club and near campus, so not quite like other clubs. I settled on jeans and a three-quarter-sleeve shirt.
Priya came back from the bathroom and paused. “I’ve never seen you try on so many different outfits. What’s with you?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“It’s Plunkett, isn’t it?”
No. Yes. Ugh.The energy drink was giving me the jitters, and truth be told, I was worried about the athletic director. Plunkett hadn’t been in his office when I dropped off the printout of the bank transaction, and even though his assistant had told me she’d have him contact me straightaway, he hadn’t. Eric hadn’t heard anything either.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Everything’s fine.”
Priya, Emma, Jay, and I headed out. We didn’t bring jackets. Even in the dead of winter, that wasn’t the way one went out at night. How would we lug around oversize coats from place to place, and where would we put them while dancing?
We exited the front doors of the dorm to walk to the club, but Jay turned right around. “Sorry, guys, it’s way too cold. I’m calling an Uber.”
