Page 30 of Hide And Seek

“Speaking of college,” he said. “I looked up the journalism program at NYU after Sutton mentioned what you’re studying.”

I kept my expression neutral. “Oh. How come?”

“It’s just how my mind works. Once I hear about something interesting, I need to know everything about it,” he said. “Anyway, I was reading about all the different classes and browsing the faculty profiles, and I noticed that only one of the professors is originally from New York. Peter Farrelly.”

My stomach dropped, but I maintained my neutral expression.

“So I’m guessing he’s the one who used to come to Blackpine back in the day,” Rhys went on. “The one who scored you this job.”

“That’s right,” I said evenly.

“He sounds like an interesting guy. Spent fifteen years as an investigative journalist before he moved into teaching.” He glanced at me sideways. “Is that your main area of interest? Investigative journalism?”

Oh, god.He definitely suspected something. I needed to shut this conversation down as quickly as possible. Or at least segue it into less dangerous territory.

“I’m more interested in political journalism, and Professor Farrelly's classes aren't really relevant to that track,” I said, shaking my head. “I’d love to be a White House correspondent one day. But obviously, that’s a long way off.”

“So you haven’t taken any of Farrelly’s classes?”

“No. He was a guest lecturer in one of my introductory classes in freshman year. That’s how I know him.” I forced a smile. “Saying I know him is probably overselling it, though. We've had maybe two conversations in total.”

“Yet he went out of his way to get you a job for the summer.” Rhys's tone was still easy and perfectly pleasant, which somehow made it worse. “A student he barely knows.”

“You’d be surprised what you can get just from asking people,” I said, shrugging a shoulder with feigned nonchalance. “Even strangers can be generous. The key is being bold enough to ask them.”

He nodded slowly. “So you just went around and asked every single person in the faculty?”

“Yup. I was pretty desperate for a job,” I said, forcing another casual smile. “And hey, it all worked out, so I’m glad I did it.”

“Hm.” Rhys nodded again and looked back at the path ahead.

“You ask a lot of questions,” I said, before I could think better of it.

“I told you,” he replied. “Once something interests me, I need to know everything about it.”

The paintball range appeared ahead; a sprawling setup of barriers and bunkers. A cluster of kids were already there with Garrett and Stevie, vibrating with excitement.

Rhys flashed a wry grin at me. “Time to go and make sure none of these kids kill each other.”

The game was surprisingly fun despite my total lack of skill.

It was forty-five minutes of crouching behind barriers, making judgment calls that were immediately proven wrong, and getting blasted with paintballs in locations that were going to leave interesting bruises. The kids, predictably, had no mercy. One boy in particular eliminated me from the first round in ninety seconds with a precision that felt personal.

I was a more useful presence in rounds two and three, mostly because I stopped trying to be strategic and started paying attention to what everyone else was doing. Which meant I spent a significant portion of the game watching Rhys.

It was difficult not to. He moved through the course differently from everyone else. No wasted motion, no unnecessary exposure, always seeming to know where the threat was coming from before it arrived. He never got caught from behind. Never got flanked. He'd pick a position, hold it until exactly the right moment, and then relocate before anyone had processed that he'd moved at all.

I tried to adopt some of his tactics, and by the time the final round wrapped up, I'd managed to hold my own well enough that even the most ruthless kid on the opposing team gave me a grudging nod of acknowledgment. I chose to count that as a victory.

I pulled my mask off and ran a hand through my hair, letting out a tired yawn. Around me, the rest of the group was peeling off gear.

A moment later, a counselor named Marlowe appeared at the edge of the range, slightly out of breath.

“Hey, guys.” She lifted a hand. “Director Mabry's called a meeting in the assembly hall. All staff. All the kids. Everyone.”

“What, now?” Garrett asked, looking confused.

Marlowe nodded. “Right now.”