Chapter 19
"is this paradise or a darker side?"
- wasteland, against the current
Annabeth decides to take her Brandon investigation to the next level.
And she knows exactly the way to do it.
She's been feeling shifty about Brandon ever since the nightmare. Of course, she had always been a little uncertain around him, even before she realised that he was also undercover (she thinks it's the teeth. They're rather unnervingly bright), but she just can't get what Piper said to her out of her head.
Has anything remotely traumatic happened this week that you think might have brought it on?
Brandon is sort of traumatic, isn't he? It's not every day you realise that the same boy who locked you in a closet is also a possible spy. Annabeth thinks about all her training back at the Society, and how if she wanted she could kill a man with her bare hands in less than three minutes.
God knows what Brandon knows. The fact that he had the potential to do something much worse to her makes her kind of glad he just put her in a closet.
There's only one person who will tell her anything about Brandon. Annabeth just hopes that she doesn't slit her throat with her long acrylic nails before that happens.
Drew Tanaka is sitting at her lunch table with her friends when Annabeth decides to ask. She's always found their table a little intimidating, if she's being honest – everyone there is absolutely flawless, with their glossy mani-pedis, designer clothing and sharp, clear eyes that'll either make you regret being born or melt. They decrease in status the further away they are from the centre of the table; Annabeth can see several girls with hair-chalk highlights and knock-off Prada handbags craning their necks to listen in to the conversation happening in the hub.
The queens bees are sitting at the centre: Drew, Silena Beauregard and Nancy Bobofit. Silena is the nicest out of the three and on several occasions has stopped Annabeth in the corridors to compliment her hair or her clothes ("Girl. Excuse my suddenness but can I just say your hair is gorgeous. Are your curls natural?") and out of the three Annabeth would definitely pick Silena to talk to, but Drew is the one with the information.
They all look up in sync as Annabeth approaches them. She can see Nancy suppress a smirk at her clothes.
(So maybe her skirt has a cranberry juice stain on it. Whatever.)
"Watermann." Drew's voice is level.
"Uh, hey." Annabeth tries for a smile. Silena is the only one who smiles back.
"What are you doing here, freak?" Nancy asks boredly.
"I actually wanted to speak to you, Drew."
Drew looks surprised. "Me?"
"Uh, yeah. If that's okay."
"Of course." Drew stands up. She even moves perfectly. Annabeth is a little jealous. "We won't be one minute, ladies."
Together, Drew and Annabeth head towards the corridors. They're abandoned now – everyone is outside or in the cafeteria. Drew stops by the lockers and folds her arms, tossing a sheet of sleek black hair over one shoulder.
"What do you want?"
Now or never, Chase.
Annabeth straightens and looks at Drew right in the eyes. "Information."
Drew raises her eyebrows.
"On Brandon Lawrence," Annabeth supplies. "You game?"
"And why should I tell you, Watermann? I don't owe you anything."
Annabeth Studies Drew's eyes. They're dark and intimidating and Annabeth feels herself instinctively square up just looking at them, but there's something about Drew's posture that gives it all away.
Annabeth tilts her head. "Because something tells me you don't like Brandon Lawrence either."
Drew doesn't flinch, but Annabeth knows she's hit the nail on the head when her closed-off expression becomes one of almost grudging respect.
"Ten dollars."
Annabeth digs around her pockets and produces a ten-dollar bill. Drew takes it delicately, folding it into a little square and pushing it inside her bra.
"You have yourself a deal, Watermann," she says. "I'll get everything I can by tomorrow."
She doesn't. In fact, when Annabeth nervously approaches her to ask about it, Drew just sighs and hands her back her ten dollars.
Annabeth stares at it, appalled. "You didn't do it?"
"Couldn't," Drew says. "I couldn't find a thing."
"Nothing?"
Annabeth's hackles begin to rise.
"I'm really sorry, Lois," Drew says honestly. It's the first time she's ever called her by her first name. "I couldn't find anything. He has no social media. No Snapchat, no Instagram, not even a Twitter. The only thing I could pull up was a Facebook but that hadn't been active since 2007 and the profile picture was a sunset that could be anywhere. I even got Silena to ask Clarisse to pick the lock to his locker, but it's devoid of anything. There are only textbooks, and they all look brand new. Even his clothes tell me nothing; I had a rootle through his gym locker when he was at football practice and checked the labels. They're all from Macy's."
Annabeth shakes her head in disbelief. "That's impossible. How could he not have anything?"
Drew shrugs. "Beats me. The boy is an open book. An open notebook. All his secrets are out in the open but that's only because he has none."
Annabeth thinks of the blood on his face, the flap of skin underneath his eye. "Mm."
Drew hesitates. "I mean. There is one thing, I guess."
Annabeth looks up. "What?"
"It's not much. But his car is in the shop. Silena and I were going to get our nails done and we passed the garage, and we saw him talking with Nyssa – she's the girl who runs it."
"Did you see what was wrong with it?"
"I think it must be an engine problem." Drew shrugs again. "But all four tires had been duct-taped."
"Duct-taped?"
"Weird, right?"
Annabeth frowns. "But– why would they be duct-taped? Do you think someone slashed them?"
A look of irritability flashes across Drew's face. "I'm not a detective, Watermann. I don't know. All I saw was that his car was in the shop and all of the tires had been wrapped in duct-tape like Christmas presents."
Annabeth chews her lip. That simply makes no sense.
"Well, thank you," she says. "For looking."
"I'm sorry I couldn't find anything."
"It's okay."
Annabeth hitches her bag strap over her shoulder and starts to head off. However, just before she's out of earshot, Drew calls, "Lois."
Annabeth turns.
Drew leans against the lockers. Everything about her is so achingly calm. "Do you need me to ruin him for you?"
They both know what she's talking about. Annabeth thinks of the dozens of pictures saved on Drew's phone, screenshotted Snapchats from boys who were naïve and hopeful enough to believe the words coming out of her lipsticked mouth. Annabeth knows the stories. She's already got about twelve boys on their hands and knees doing her dirty work for her because of her threats to release the pictures to the school.
Annabeth doesn't hesitate for a second she'll be able to bring down Brandon. But she doesn't want to ruin him. She wants to uncover him.
"It's okay," she says softly. "But thanks."
"Be careful, Watermann. If you play with fire you're going to get burned."
Annabeth nods.
"Thank you, Drew."
"Anytime."
The conversation sticks with her for the rest of the day.
Why would Brandon's tires be duct-taped? The friction between the wheels and the road would rip them to shreds in minutes. It's the most ineffective method of patching up a tire ever, and if Brandon is smart enough to carry around blood sachets and wear prosthetic cheekbones to change the shape of his face then he's going to be smart enough to know that duct-tape on tires is utterly useless.
Also, he would know how to fix a car. It was one of the first topics in Mechanics. The break would have to be pretty damn impressive if Brandon couldn't fix it – but it must have been at a short notice, if the duct-tape on the wheels was still intact enough for Drew to recognise it.
She needs to check it out. Something is wrong here.
But she has to bide her time. Thalia and Piper don't know about Brandon and she kind of doesn't want them to find out – at least, not now. She can't whizz off at night t "do stuff", because that would be much too suspicious. She needs to wait.
Her time comes when she arrives back home to Thalia and Piper. It's around seven or eight; Piper is doing homework and Thalia is moodily flicking through a teen magazine she picked up apparently for the hell of it.
"Who's your spring summer crush?" she mumbles absently. "Take the quiz to find out."
"Who are the candidates?" Piper asks.
Annabeth pushes at her with her foot. "No, homework."
"I'm bored."
Thalia flips through it, tired. "None of them even seem that great," she says. "They look kind of bland, to be honest."
"Well, of course you'd say that," Piper says. "You've sworn off boys, haven't you?"
Annabeth looks up. "What?"
Thalia rolls her eyes. "You didn't have to say that."
"You've sworn off boys?" Annabeth asks.
"Well. Yeah."
"Why?"
"Because boys suck."
"Not all of them."
"Oh, I forgot you have a boyfriend now," Thalia says insincerely. "Whoops."
"No, it's not that. I just– why?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"I'm curious. It's not often you hear someone who's sworn off boys."
"It's not that big of a deal," Thalia says. "My dad was rotten. Beat Mom black and blue. Not that Mom was any better, though."
Addict. Annabeth hears it in her voice.
"Is that why you joined the Society?" she asks softly.
Thalia laughs. "You don't have to sound so sympathetic."
"I mean. It's a sad story, isn't it?"
"Not really. I mean, sure, it can be. But I never knew Mom, not properly, and I knew Dad long enough to know that he beat her. So I thought, until I am able to snap a man's wrist in half I am never dating ever again. Not that I ever dated before that. But now that I can snap a wrist in half I just realised that I don't really ever want to date again. Hence the swearing thing."
"Huh." Annabeth is kind of impressed. "That's cool."
"I know." Thalia smiles at her. "So. Dinner, anyone?"
Piper groans. "Preferably not?"
"You can't starve."
"It's better than week-old chickpeas on a slice of bread."
Annabeth sees her chances, and takes it.
"I can buy us something," she offers.
Thalia gives her a dead look. "What about 'we are on a budget' do you not understand?"
"There's a burrito store a few minutes away from Marino," Annabeth says. "They do burritos for like ninety-nine cents."
"Oh, please, Thalia," Piper begs. "I'm starving and I can't do out-of-date canned food again."
Thalia sighs. "Fine."
"Can I take some money?"
"Sure." Thalia throws her a bill. "Go wild."
Annabeth stares at it. "Thalia, this is– a dollar."
"I know."
"The burritos are ninety-nine cents."
"And we are on a budget."
Piper looks crestfallen. "We're going to have to share one burrito between the three of us?"
"Unless there are three sides that will be enough to fill us up," Thalia says. "Now, don't stray and be late. We're starving."
Annabeth shoves the dollar in her pocket and heads out the door, throwing on the darkest hoodie she can find.
"I'll be home soon," she calls.
And then she's gone.
The car garage is not far.
She runs there as fast as she can. She's wearing sneakers with rubber soles and black clothes, and for the first time she's grateful that her hair is dark. The garage is closed but that doesn't bother her in the slightest: she's broken into many, many things, one of which being a top-secret safe with an eyeball scanner and voice recognition password. This should be a piece of cake.
She runs her fingers over the padlock of the front gate. It's a number lock, with a specific pass code to get the lock to open. She can't break it – that would be too obvious. She studies it. Humans develop oils on the fingers – the logical way someone would open it would be the first row, then the second, then the third. It's a car workshop. The pass code can't be that hard, because nothing here would be expensive or worthy enough for someone to want to steal.
The numbers look worn. Very worn. It's been used a lot.
She twists the numbers around. It's too easy.
The numbers that are the clearest are obviously the ones used for the password. No one would swipe past the number.
334
Easy.
She pushes open the gate as quietly as possible and slides through.
Brandon's car is simple to find. It's the one that's being propped open by a wrench – and next to it, just like Drew said, are four tires, one top of the other, each one wrapped in layers of duct-tape.
Annabeth feels along them. Beneath the duct-tape she feels valleys, where the tires have obviously been cut open. It's too precise to have been keyed. Someone cut them open with knives – and obviously Brandon was in too much of a rush to replace the tires so he put duct-tape on it.
But tires aren't hard to change. Whatever he had been doing when his tires had been cut was obviously extremely important.
Annabeth presses her fingers against it.
No social media. No records. No personalization.
And now it's all fake blood and prosthetic skin and cuts in his tires too neat to be keyed.
There's something so horribly, horribly wrong about this.
Something is going to happen.
Two months later, Percy doesn't show up to school.
And neither, Annabeth notes– does Brandon.
A/N Hey guys!
sorry this is so short. i've come down with the worst cramps ever (so if anyone has any remedies that could help pls let me know im dying) and also exam week was excruciating. thank you to everyone who wished me good luck! i don't think i did too badly however my chemistry and my calculator maths exam were hideous watch as i fail wooo
I hope you like this one! it was fun to write. im sorry its a filler and that i left you on another cliffhanger. this week has just been a little nightmarish. however i'm on half term so next chapter will be much better hopefully!
that's it for today! please tell me what you thought and i'll see you soon!