Very Bad Things by Susan McBride Read Free Book Online Page A

administration building. “Your father wants to see you, and he’s not happy” was all he said.
    Like that wasn’t the understatement of the year. Mark expected Wharton to shadow him into the building, right to his father’s door, but the campus security chief got a call on his walkie-talkie and sped off toward the dorms, leaving Mark to go it alone.
    Mark swallowed hard as he stared at the engraved brass plate on the double doors.
    HEADMASTER GREGORY M. SUMMERS, PHD.
    Yep, his dad must be pretty damned pissed.
    He pushed open the outer doors, entering the reception area normally manned by poodle-haired secretary Naomi. Only Naomi was nowhere in sight. Probably still out to lunch.
    Almost immediately, the inner door swung wide and Greg Summers appeared, holding it open. A tall man wearing the blue uniform of the Barnard police emerged, hat in hand. “I appreciate that you came to see me first, Captain Franks,” Mark’s dad was saying. “I promise that campus security will look into the matter. I’ll be in touch when we have any information.”
    “Much obliged,” the police captain said, scrutinizing Mark’s bruised face before he tucked his hat back on his head and left.
    As soon as the outer double doors clicked shut, Mark’s father hustled him into his office. He didn’t say another word until he’d locked them in. Then he frowned at Mark. “Mind telling me what the hell’s going on around here?”
    Mark touched his aching jaw. “You want to know about the fight?”
    “I want to know about
everything
.”
    Mark was taller than his dad and far broader in the shoulders but somehow his father still intimidated the crap out of him. “You always taught me to stand up for myself. That’s all I did.”
    “That isn’t all, Mark. You and I both know that.” Gregory Summers’s forehead bunched above his tortoiseshell glasses as he walked around his desk and settled into his leather chair. “Be straight with me, okay? No bullshit.”
    Why did it feel like this was about more than the fight? Mark sat down across from his father. “I’m here because I kicked Steve’s ass, right? Has he got Ambassador Getty threatening to sue the school?”
    “No one’s threatening anything,” his dad replied. “Steve Getty’s lucky to be here, all things considered.”
    Mark wondered what kind of trouble Steve Getty had caused to get booted from so many boarding schools before Whitney. Was it cheating? Smoking pot? Had he stolen something? But Mark knew his dad wouldn’t tell him, and whatever Steve had done wouldn’t be found in his transcripts either. That was how it worked for the sons of politicians: their fathers donated a tidy sum for a new computer lab or football field and any charges of misconduct disappeared from their records.
    “Steve’s been an asshole since he got here,” Mark said, and rubbed slick palms along the crease of his khakis. “So don’t ask me to apologize—”
    “Apologize?” His dad cut him off. “You think I brought you here so I could force you to tell your teammate you’re sorry?” Gregory Summers sighed. “If this was just about a fight it would make things much simpler.”
    Mark hated seeing his dad look so upset. Not an hour ago, Katie had looked at him much the same way. How could things have changed so fast in just a few days? It had all started with the damned party. He wished like hell it had never happened.
    Oh, crap. That was it, wasn’t it?
    “You heard about the party,” Mark said, and wondered if his dad knew about the photo, too. “It wasn’t any big deal. Just some guys from the hockey team celebrating.”
    “Really?” His dad cocked his head. “Are you sure about that?”
    Mark winced. His father knew about the girls.
    His nose began to drip, and he reached up with his sleeve, smearing blood on his cuff. “All right, so there may have been a couple of townies there. Steve snuck them in. I didn’t know who they were. I had nothing to do with