Secrets by Melinda Metz - Fingerprints - 4 Page A

on her face.
    “Doing something?” Rae repeated.
    “Yeah, doing something,” Jesse said. “You know, to find out-” He took a moment to check that no one was listening. “To find out who kidnapped me and who tried to kill you. Are we going to come up with some kind of plan? Or are we just going to keep sitting around with our thumbs up our butts?”
    Rae knew Yana was probably already waiting for her in the parking lot. But it was clear Jesse wasn’t going to let her go without some kind of answer. “I want to do something, yeah, of course,” she told him. “But we’ve got nothing, remember? The guy who kidnapped you is long gone, and we have no idea who hired him. Or who hired David Wyngard to set that pipe bomb. How can we come up with a plan when we’ve got nothing?”
    Jesse’s frown deepened into a full-fledged scowl, and his eyes darkened.
    “Has something new happened?” Rae asked. “Are you worried-”
    “I keep having nightmares, okay?” he blurted out. “I’m back in the warehouse and-whatever.” He avoided her gaze, and she noticed his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Every time I wake up, I’mpissed off. I’m not letting whoever did that to me get away with it.”
    Rae nodded, worried that Jesse wasn’t so much pissed off as terrified. But she wasn’t going to ask. That was a Ms. Abramson kind of question.
    “If anything happens, anything that would give us a starting place, you’re gonna be the first person I tell,” Rae promised him, feeling a little spurt of guilt. Finding out the truth about her mom could end up leading her to the person she and Jesse both wanted to find. But she didn’t know that for sure. If she did get any info that Jesse would want, she’d… well, she’d decide what to do then. “I’ve got to go, okay?” she said.
    “You better not be getting all momlike and trying to protect me,” Jesse told her. “This isn’t just about you.”
    Rae nodded, biting her lip. Momlike. Ha.
    Jesse started off down the hall.
    “Jesse,” she called out without actually deciding to. His name just sprang out of her mouth.
    “Yeah?” He turned to face her.
    You don’t need to know this, she told herself. But she asked the question, anyway. “Um, do you know where Anthony was-I mean, do you know why he wasn’t in group?”
    You shouldn’t care, she thought. You don’t needAnthony Fascinelli. But the image of acid eating through the painting of her mother’s face wouldn’t leave her. And even though Anthony had shown zero interest in what was going on with her lately, he was the person she wanted to tell what happened.
    “Oh, right. You were a little late. Abramson announced that he isn’t coming anymore. I guess he’s going to be checking in with her by himself,” Jesse explained. “The group was going to get in the way of his football practice, and skipping practice would mean losing his scholarship.”
    Jesse didn’t sound like he thought losing the scholarship was such a bad thing. He must feel like he’s losing
    Anthony, his almost big brother, she realized. This was the main place they saw each other. “I’m sure you’ll still see each other,” Rae said.
    “Whatever,” Jesse answered. He walked away without another word, clearly not wanting to have some mini-therapy session with Rae about his feelings over the Anthony sitch. You need to go, anyway, she thought. Time.
    Going. Tick, tick, tick. She started power walking down the hall but only got about five steps before Ms. Abramson fell in beside her.
    “Rae, I just wanted to talk to you for one minute,” Ms. Abramson said.
    “Sure,” Rae answered, even though she wanted to scream. Ms. Abramson steered her over to one of thebenches that lined the hall. “What’s up?” Rae asked as they sat, wanting to get the conversation started so it could end.
    “I noticed you were a little agitated in group today,” Ms. Abramson began.
    Rae rolled her eyes, disgusted with herself. Then she