Moment of Truth Page 6
“Have you had any college interest yet?” he asked.
“I’m scheduled to visit some, but I still have time to decide. I really want San Diego and I really want a swimming scholarship.” The coach there had been to several of my races. Adding the butterfly to my schedule might push him to make me an official offer.
“Is that all?”
“I know it’s a lot to hope for.” I put my arms up on the cement and rested my chin on them, inches away from his legs. My toes clung to the slanted portion of the wall under the water.
“If anyone can get it you can.”
“What about you? What are your plans next year?”
“Continue with my undergrad classes for sports medicine. Here in town.”
“You’re staying here?”
“I’m only eighteen, you know. I do have a lot more time to decide.”
I realized it must’ve sounded like I was judging him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound like . . . I’m just surprised you want to stay here is all.”
“I like it here. You don’t?”
“I . . .” I needed to get away from here, away from the ghost that hung over our house. I couldn’t say that to him, though. I didn’t say that to anyone. “I like it here. I’m just ready for a change.”
He smiled. “Change is good.”
He held my gaze, seeming to imply something more than what he was saying. I started to ask him another question when he quickly stood. “I better go, let you get back to practice.”
“Okay. Have fun reading.” That sounded lame but it was too late to take back.
When I climbed out of the pool thirty minutes later, I had a text waiting for me from Amelia: Red Café tonight. I will impart to you everything I know about fake Heath Hall.
After my second shower of the day and a much-needed nap, Amelia and I sat at our usual corner booth at the Red Café. Amelia took a sip of her soda, then offered me some.
“No.”
“Still punishing yourself?”
“Not drinking soda is a reward, not a punishment.”
“In what universe?”
“It helps my time.”
“You say that about everything.” Before I could respond she said, “I know, I know. If you don’t sacrifice for what you want, you’ll be sacrificed.”
I laughed. “That’s not how the quote goes.”
“I like mine better. Or how about this quote: Hadley has more self-control than . . .” She paused and I waited. “I have no idea how to finish that one. It was going to be good, but I couldn’t think of anything that has as much self-control as you.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“It wouldn’t be so bad if it didn’t make me look bad.”
I picked up my burger. “Hey, I still eat greasy food. I don’t have that much self-control.”
She bumped her burger against mine. “Thank goodness.”
Maybe I did need to give up greasy food. That would probably help my time. “So tell me. What do you know about the masked man?”
She held up her finger, finished chewing, then dug her phone out of her pocket. She typed on the screen and turned it toward me. A picture of Heath Hall—dark hair and startlingly blue eyes looked back at me. The electronic glass was lowered over one of his eyes and a long scar came out from under it and down his cheek. “Look.” She scrolled down past the pictures and had me read the most recent post.
I read it out loud. “I’ll be at the Pacific High swim meet Friday night. Come see what I’ll be facing.” My eyes went to the post below that. It said, “Bravery makes us all heroes,” which was something Heath Hall liked to say in his movies. I rolled my eyes. As if jumping into a swimming pool was equivalent to saving the world.
“Yeah, I saw that when I looked before. He announced it. Who does something like this?”
She shrugged.
“So have you heard any theories about who he is?” I asked.
“Yes, lots. Everyone thinks he’s someone different. So he could be anyone at our school.”
“Or nobody at our school.”
“I guess that’s true,” she said. “But here’s that map of events he’s shown up at. It’s like a web with our school at its center.” She typed something and then showed me her phone again.
“Huh.” She was right. The Pacific Ocean spread out along the left side of the map, but the other three directions surrounding our school were littered with red dots, probably close to fifty of them. I zoomed out and noticed another small cluster inland, surrounding a city at least two hours from ours. “But what about these?”
“The theory is he moved from there to here a few years back.” She pointed at the first cluster of dots and then over to our school.
I narrowed my eyes, following her finger. I was irritated there were any theories about some random deviant. “Well, all I care about is that he doesn’t come to the pool on race day again. I’m going to make sure of that.”
“How?”
“I DMed him.”
Amelia dropped her hands to the table and turned her wide eyes to me. “What? You did?”
“Yes. I told him to stay away.”
“I hear he doesn’t respond to DMs. Wait . . . did he actually respond?”
“No.”
She waved her hand over my phone that was sitting facedown on the table, bouncing on her seat twice as she did. “See if he’s responded now.”
I sighed but then wiped my hands on a napkin and picked up my phone. One message waited in my DMs. I froze for a moment when I saw it was from him. Fake Heath Hall. He’d actually responded, and I found I was nervous to see what he’d said. No, this selfish fake spy hero wasn’t going to make me nervous. I clicked on the icon.
Well, I usually don’t do repeats, but now that I know it bothered you so much, I might take another run at the pool.
My mouth dropped open.
“What did he say?” Amelia asked, leaning close to look.
I tilted my phone toward her and she let out a gasp. “Do you think he means it?”
I grunted. “Yes.”
“You told him you were going to expose him?” she asked, obviously reading the message I had sent him. “But you don’t know who he is.”
“I was bluffing. He called me on it.”
“He totally did.” She laughed.
I returned my phone to the table. “It is now my goal to find out.”
“Find out . . . ?”
“Who he is.”
“Uh-oh,” she said. “He’s in trouble. You always accomplish your goals.”
“Exactly,” I said.
Amelia smiled, then her attention was drawn across the restaurant. “Now I’m starting to think that every guy could be fake Heath Hall. Like that guy in the booth over there. If I tilt my head and squint a little, he actually looks a little like Heath.”
“So you think the guy under the mask actually looks like Heath Hall?”
“Yes. That’s probably why he picked that particular mask. People probably always tell him that he looks like Heath Hall and so he decided to capitalize on it.”