The Hand on the Wall

Her parents, ironically, were absolutely delighted that she continued to have a relationship with that nice boy who turned out to be Senator King’s son. Senator King’s views on David’s relationship with Stevie were not known and not sought out.

Things at school had not been easy or perfect for anyone, but they were definitely pretty good. It turned out school was generally more straightforward when people weren’t getting murdered all the time.

“Okay, so you’re going to explain all of this so you get the money? I guess it would be hard to prove, but they could probably do it, check birth records and get DNA . . .”

“Nah,” Stevie said again.

“Okay, what is this nah thing? You aren’t going to try to prove it?”

“It wasn’t about the money,” she said. “If I even tried to claim it, think of the lawyers and the creeps I’d have to deal with. It would ruin my life.”

“Seriously?” he said. “You’re not going to fight for seventy million dollars?”

“What can I buy for seventy million dollars?”

“Anything. Almost literally anything.”

“The way it is now,” she said, “the money stays here, in the school. Alice’s home. The one her father made. He wanted to make a place where impossible things could happen. Albert Ellingham believed in me. He let me come here, and I’m making sure it stays open. This is for Alice and Iris, and for Albert, for Hayes, and Ellie and Fenton.”

She raised her mug.

“Oh my God,” he said. “What are you, a saint or something?”

“I stole this mug,” she said. “So, no. Besides, if the school closed down, you’d have to go home and finish your book or something. I did it for you. I’m not even telling anyone else. I mean, aside from my friends. Like you.”

“Are you trying to make me have an emotion?” Nate said, his eyes reddening a bit. “Because I’ve spent my whole life learning how to repress and deflect and you’re kind of ruining my thing.”