Chapter 76 THE ENVELOPE
POV: VICKEY
She spotted him before he even reached her table. That was the thing nobody ever got about Vickey Harris. She always saw things coming. The problem was, just because she saw the bad stuff before it happened didn’t mean she stopped herself from walking straight into it. That had always been her issue, and lately it had turned into something a lot more dangerous.
Cameron moved through the dining hall with the kind of confidence that meant he never wondered if he belonged anywhere. He wasn’t heading for the tables where the legacy kids sat. He was coming straight for her.
Maybe she should’ve gotten up. Maybe she should’ve disappeared into the crowd, made him try again later. But what would that do? He’d just find another time. Another hallway, another fake-casual run-in after class. Ever since the ruins, she’d known there was no dodging the next task. There was only picking the time and place.
Her charcoal kept sliding over the sketchbook paper, shading out Nikki Clark’s grin from across the room, finally getting the sharp, mean line of it right.
A chair scraped against the floor beside her.
Cameron sat down like the chair had been waiting just for him.
“Afternoon, Harris,” he said, his voice low. “Got a minute?”
“I’m kind of eating,” she replied, not looking up.
He gave her that smile—the perfect one he used when he wanted to keep people at a distance. It was the kind of smile that didn’t cost him anything, but made it clear he didn’t owe anyone a thing. “And I’m kind of not talking to anyone else.”
He leaned forward and she caught the faint scent of cedar from his cologne. Her eyes stayed locked on her sketchbook.
“I need a favor,” he said.
He slid an envelope across the table. Thick, cream-colored paper. No writing, nothing to give it away.
She looked at it, then at him. “What’s this?”
“Papers,” he said, like he was announcing the weather. “Calculus room after lunch. Back row. Three desks. Put one under each. Don’t read them. Don’t open them. Just drop them and leave.”
She already knew she was going to do it. That was the worst part. Not the doubt, but the certainty. She was going to do this because he had the footage. Because the footage would go to Parsons. And Parsons was the only future she’d ever let herself imagine.
“Why me?” she asked anyway.
“Because you understand how this works.” His gaze was steady, not cold or warm, just set. “And because you’re already involved, Vickey. You have been since the ruins.”
The words hit right where they were supposed to.
She picked up the envelope. It felt heavier than it looked.
She slipped it under her sketchbook.
Cameron stood, straightened his blazer, and melted back into the dining hall like nothing had happened. He didn’t leave a ripple behind.
Vickey sat there, the envelope hidden under her sketchbook, charcoal still in her hand, and the noise of the dining hall swirling around her. She stared at her drawing and thought about the back row of the calculus classroom.
Three desks.
She knew exactly who sat there.
Annabelle Wilson was one of them.
The hallway to Room 307 was completely empty after lunch. Vickey walked down it with her bag on her shoulder, the envelope inside, moving with the kind of determination that only comes when you’ve already made up your mind but your heart hasn’t caught up yet.
She slipped into the classroom. The door clicked shut behind her.
The room was full of afternoon shadows, sunlight cutting lines across the desks. It smelled like dry-erase markers and dust, and all the desks sat in perfect rows, waiting for students who had no idea what was about to happen.
She pulled out the envelope. Her hands shook a little.
She crouched by the first desk in the back row. Opened the envelope. Three folded sheets inside. She separated them.
She told herself she wouldn’t look.
Her eyes flicked over the top page anyway.
They weren’t notes. She could tell right away. Notes were messy and personal, scribbled fast, written for the person who made them. This was something else. This was organized. It had columns, answer numbers, the same format as the review sheet Mrs. Patterson handed out last week.
A cheat sheet.
Not just any cheat sheet—a professional one, made to look like a student put it together. Made to be found.
She crouched there, holding the sheet, and it hit her. Cameron hadn’t given her a favor. He’d given her a weapon. And she was the one placing it under these desks. The desks that belonged to specific people. Including Annabelle Wilson, who had never done anything except be herself—the kind of person Thornfield wanted gone before she became a problem they couldn’t control quietly.
Academic dishonesty. Scholarship review. Expulsion.
Nobody would ever be blamed. Just a scholarship kid getting caught cheating and losing everything.
Her hands were trembling, but she moved anyway.
First desk. Second desk.
She paused at the third. Annabelle’s desk.
She could still stop. She could put the paper back, walk out, let Cameron do whatever he wanted with the footage, watch her own future disappear, but at least know she hadn’t done this.
The footage. Parsons. Her only chance at the life she’d always pictured.
She slid the sheet under the third desk.
She stood, legs shaky, grabbing the edge of the desk to steady herself.
She breathed in, out.
The doorknob rattled.
She hurried to her seat in the second row just as students started piling in, laughing and talking, completely unaware of how much space they took up in the world.
Annabelle came in a minute later, hair catching the sunlight. Her face was focused, like she was working something out in her head, not paying attention to the noise around her.
She took her seat, not looking around, just settling in. She had no idea what was under her desk, no clue she was walking into a trap.
Then she looked up.
Her eyes found Vickey’s across the room. She gave a small nod—the kind friends give each other before class starts, no big deal, just a little sign of trust.
Vickey nodded back.
Her nails dug into her palms under the desk.
Mrs. Patterson swept in with her briefcase, already talking. “Derivatives today. I hope you’re all prepared.”
The room fell silent as everyone got their exams. Vickey stared at her paper, but the questions didn’t make sense. Any second now, someone would find a cheat sheet, and Mrs. Patterson would find the rest. The back row would get hit with the academic dishonesty protocol. It would happen fast and clean, and Annabelle would get caught up in it, with nobody ever tracing it back to Cameron or Derek or anyone else who’d set this up.
Just a scholarship student caught cheating. Just a girl who never really belonged here, proving it to everyone.
Vickey shut her eyes. She saw Annabelle’s little nod in her mind.
She opened her eyes. Looked at the back row.
She was still sitting here. Still doing nothing.
Still Cameron Hayes’s masterpiece.