A Deal With the Devil (Boys of Preston Prep 2)

“That’s enough!” Vandy hisses over the table. “This isn’t up for debate. You don’t get to decide what phases of my life I’m ready for!”

“Sweetie, I know you’re mad—”

“Emory has two girlfriends!” Her voice is loud enough that its drawing stares. “I’m done sitting on the sidelines, watching him live a normal life while you cage me up. I mean it, Mom. I’m done.”

Mr. Hall, who’s been pinching the bridge of his nose, holds up a hand. “This is going nowhere good. Vandy, you want to keep seeing Reyn?” He watches her nod belligerently. “Denise, you want to sign her up for that rehab program?” Mr. Hall concludes, “Compromise. One for the other.”

Vandy’s forehead creases. “You’re saying if I do the program, I can keep seeing Reyn?” At her father’s nod, her expression firms up. “Deal.”

I don’t know what the program is, but it must have been a particularly sore point of contention, because Mrs. Hall looks like she’s about to faint.

“Oh, Vandy, really?!” Her whole face transforms and she reaches across the table to grab her hand. “It’ll be so good for you, sweetheart.”

Vandy grimaces but doesn’t pull her hand away. “Three weeks, right? Then I can continue outpatient here.”

“Yes.” Mrs. Hall gives her hand a pat. “I’m so glad that you—” She seems to remember there’s a condition attached to this, because her eyes jump to mine. Her lips press into a stern line. “There will be rules, however.”

Vandy argues, “Emory doesn’t have rules!” and I can see a little part of Mr. Hall’s soul die.

“Emory’s girlfriend doesn’t live next door.”

My dad clears his throat. “Neither will Vandy’s boyfriend.”

I look at him. “What does that mean?”

“I’ve thought a lot about it, and I’ve decided to put the house up for sale.” He bobs his head. “It’s time. You have a lot of problems in that neighborhood, Reyn, and I won’t stand for it anymore.”

I know he’s talking about Fucking Jerry, and I’m just…

I’m shocked.

His eyes search mine. “Are you okay with that? I know they said you needed something familiar, but I think they’re dead wrong.”

It’ll suck, not being next door to Vandy anymore. Not being able to look out my window and into hers. It’ll be hard to let all the other things go, too. The treehouse. The spot between our driveways where the three of us had painted our initials in the wet cement. The sidewalks we used to—very badly—skateboard down. The backyard where my dad had first taught me how to throw and catch a football. So many of our childhood moments live there, suspended in time, and some of them were bad. Some of them were fucking awful. But most of them were good.

Dad’s right, though.

I’ll never be left alone there. It’ll keep chasing me around doggedly, relentlessly. Like with the pills, it’ll only be a matter of time before there’s another misunderstanding. Another infraction. Another dumb mistake made in the service of dodging my reputation. If I’m ever going to become someone bigger than my mistakes, then I’ll need somewhere new to do it.

“I’m okay with it,” I decide.

Vandy’s voice is wounded. “Reyn…”

“Hey, I doubt we’ll be going far.” I nudge her knee with mine. “Plus, there’s still school.” I’m seized by sudden panic, whipping around to look at my dad. “There is still school, right? Collins isn’t booting me, is he? The charges were dropped, but the scholarship is morally conditional and if—”

“I’ll handle Headmaster Collins,” my dad assures me. “I’m sure we can all clear things up.”

Our food arrives just then. We all crowd back into the booths while it fills the table, and I wasn’t lying before. I can absolutely eat my food and Vandy’s. No question.

We’re about halfway through the meal when Vandy suddenly bursts, “I want to get my license.”

Her dad groans. “Can we not take it one thing at a time? You don’t even know how to drive yet.”

Emory smoothly replies. “Yeah she does.”

Vandy looks at him gratefully. “And I’m good at it, too.”

Her mom drops her fork. “Since when?!”