“Why are you a cheerleader?”
He sounded suspicious. Darned Cheerleader Aversion.
“If I tell you, can we race?”
He nodded. “Why the hell not.”
I mulled the question over, trying to come up with an answer that was at least partially true. “I like to do things that people tell me I can’t,” I said finally. “And nobody ever thought I’d make the Squad.”
Least of all me.
“Huh,” Jack said. And then, without another word, hebolted off the veranda and back into the party. It took me a couple of seconds to figure out that he was headed to the car.
“Cheater!” I yelled after him. I quickly scanned the surrounding area. He had enough of a head start that there was no way I could beat him taking the same route. Luckily, there was one other route available. Casting a single dubious look at my boots, I climbed on top of the railing, jumped off the veranda, and landed on the ground outside, a full story below. Not knowing how much time I’d bought myself, I ran full blast for the car.
By the time Jack got there, I’d taken off my boots and was pretending to buff my nails.
He looked from me back up to the veranda. “You jumped.”
I nodded.
“Cheater.”
I could feel the smile spread across my face. Ah, the sweet taste of victory.
Gallantly, he walked around to my side of the car and opened the door for me. I snorted. He ignored me.
After he’d settled himself in the driver’s seat, he turned to me. “So,” he said. “Where are we going?”
It was on the tip of my tongue to say his dad’s office, but something stopped me. I wasn’t the first one to use Jack to get to Peyton. If I asked to go there directly, who knew what kind of memories I was going to stir up? The last thing I wanted was for him to compare me to Chloe or Brooke.
“I don’t know where we’re going,” I said slowly, “but I know what we’re doing.”
Jack waited.
“Actually,” I said, divinely inspired, “I know what you’re doing.”
“What I’m doing?”
“It involves a Xerox machine and your butt,” I said. He blanched, and I continued. “Such is the price of defeat.”
“You want me to xerox my butt?”
I shrugged. “It beats this place. Where’s the nearest copy shop?”
Jack, still unsure whether I was mentally unstable or just highly unpredictable, turned the car on and put it in drive. “I’ve got someplace else in mind,” he said.
“Does it have a copy machine?” I asked. Translation: is it your dad’s office?
Jack didn’t answer. Instead, he smirked and pulled onto the road. “You know, Ev,” he said, “this obsession with my butt is getting old.”
CHAPTER 32
Code Word: Pressure
“Where are we?” I had a feeling we were in the underground parking complex attached to the law firm, but I asked the question anyway. “That’s like the fifth gate we’ve gone through.”
Jack shrugged. “Security.”
