The Peregrine Passage

Chapter Fourteen: Hazel

I hear the door shut behind Adam but I stay frozen still. I can't believe what's happening. I'm about to lose the only real friend I've had over this past year, and for something that I didn't even do. I know that I wasn't the one who gave Rowan the drugs. Sure, I've been selling my medication. But, I would never give anyone enough to overdose, and I was always super careful about that. I was careful about everything, at least I thought.

I think back to what Ms. Merriam and Mr. Fuller were saying. If all of these drugs belong to the Order, then surely they're the ones responsible for his death. But, why would Mr. Fuller lead us there in the first place?

I finally exit the closet and screw the vent back on when I hear the entrance door swing open again. I freeze. Could it be Adam? Maybe he wants me to explain. He has to understand that I would never do this. Didn't he see the drugs in the vent? He can't be this short-sighted.

My thoughts are cut short by Ms. Mirriam's high-pitched voice. I quickly retreat into the closet, crouching down and holding my breath.

"I told you this was a bad idea. It doesn't look like anybody's been here."

"I thought for sure that she'd find them by now. I guess we just need to move them to a more obvious hiding place. The cemetery, maybe?"

"And how do you plan on getting her there?"

"I'll say something in class, leave a newspaper clipping on the ground, I don't know...something." He sounds exasperated. I have no idea what they're talking about. My heart quickens as they ascend the stairwell.

"What about the boy?" Adam.

"Honestly, I didn't expect him to tag along with her this whole time. I figured he would blow off the assignment, but I guess he might have to go down to."

"He's done nothing. You have nothing on him."

"Fair enough. We only need Hazel's fingerprints on the drugs. I have enough to frame her if we can just get him out of the picture." Frame me?

"Is there any way you can make the next clue specific to just Hazel?"

"I'll think of something, don't worry."

They're officially in the room with me. I don't dare move, but terror courses through my veins as they make their way to the vent. Through a little crack in the closet door, I can see them crouch down and loosen the screws. Mr. Fuller picks up the bag and they stand back up. I stifle a loud gasp when I see him bring his hand to Ms. Mirriam's face and lean in for a kiss. I stifle an even louder gasp when she kisses him back. Do drugs turn them on? Or maybe framing close family friends?

He takes her hand and they go back down the stairs. The door slams and I let out a huge exhale before exiting the closet. After ten minutes, I decide I'm in the clear and leave the lighthouse. It's not until I'm outside that I realize that Adam was my ride. I try the lighthouse door again, but it won't budge. The lock-picking kit is in his backpack and I want to punch myself in the face for going outside before thinking of a plan to get home.

I dial Adam's name five times, but he still won't pick up. I know he's mad, but I need to get home. The snow somehow starts falling down even harder, and it's met with pelts of ice. I debate calling my mom, but she's at work and I have no idea how I would explain this. As I'm about to give in and call her when I see the bright flash of headlights pierce through the snow. When I see the bright red of Sawyer, I exhale a massive sigh of relief.

"Hey. Get in." He rolls down the window and I hurriedly step into the truck.

"Adam, I—" His expression is as cold as the weather. His eyes remain fixed on the road and his jaw is clenched when he responds.

"I drove almost halfway back before Maple Ridge before I decided to turn around. You're lucky I got here when I did," He pauses but continues.

"This doesn't mean we're friends. This doesn't mean I forgive you. I'm not gonna let you die in the cold because that's not something I'd do. I don't let people die because of my carelessness." He looks at me pointedly before tearing his eyes away again.

"It's not what you think—" I try desperately to explain the situation but he turns up the radio as loud as it will go, drowning my words out. I take the hint.

We're silent the entire ride back to Maple Ridge. I decide that I'll wait a few days, then come to him with the truth. The whole truth. Adam needs some time to process, and I guess I do, too.

He pulls into my building's parking lot and doesn't say a word when I get out of the park. I turn back to wave, but he's already driving away.

My mom is still gone by the time I unlock the door to the apartment and I breathe a sigh of relief. I don't think I would have it in me to lie to her about where I've been. I wipe my shoes on our doormat, then make my way to the kitchen. After rifling through a dozen teabags, I settle on chai and make myself a warm cup in an attempt to calm myself down.

No matter how many times I replay the conversation I overheard, it always leads to the same verdict: the Order is framing me for Rowan's death. I'm not exactly sure how they're planning to do it, but thinking back to conversations I had with Mr. Fuller sends chills down my spine. How did he know I was selling? Did he know why? How long have he and Ms. Mirriam been together, and why isn't she sticking up for me more?

It isn't like I've never thought about the consequences that would come alongside selling. It just all seemed worth it, to help my mom. Our situation was really difficult when my dad left us with barely any money. I hadn't quite realized how broke they really were until the summer after my sophomore year. I'd come back home from the library late and found my mom crying at the kitchen table over bills. She never saw me, but I decided then that I'd have to do something to help out. It was only to a few people, and only a few times—enough to make rent without her breaking her back. She'd never ask where the money came from and I'd never told her.

I'm terrified of what she'll think of me if this all comes out. One thing's for sure, I can't let that happen. I need to bust the Order for what they've done before they ruin my life. But, I barely have any proof. The word of a teenager isn't exactly the most credible thing in court. Plus, even if I'm not guilty of murder, I am guilty of selling my pills. That won't make me look any better. I hate it, but I find myself wishing that I had Adam to help me figure this out. He really is my best friend. One thing's for sure: I'm grateful that tomorrow is Sunday. I don' think I could face an upset Adam at the same time as a criminal Mr. Fuller.

I put my cup of tea back on the counter and take a hot shower. Then, with my hair still wet, I set my head down and try to get some sleep.