Adam hopped onto his bike. “This couldn’t be real. How could she?”
The sun was setting and he’d left his bike light at home but he didn’t care. He had to see Lisa. He peddled hard to Atherton and called Lisa’s phone from outside the front gate.
“Hello?”
“I need to see you. I’m outside your front gate.”
“What? No, Adam, you can’t be here. Dad is—”
“I have to see you, Lisa.”
“We’re in the middle of dinner. We have guests.”
“I’ll wait.”
“You can’t wait out there. They’ll see you.” He could sense her thinking on the other end, scrambling for a solution.
“Come around to the back gate. The code is 8924. There’s a key under the flowerpot next to the side door and a back staircase. Take it to the second floor and go to the third door on the right. That’s my room. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it’s probably going to be thirty minutes at least.”
“I’m on my way.”
She hung up. Adam followed her instructions and carefully crept into her room. He wasn’t sure at first if he was in the right place. Could this really be an eighteen-year-old girl’s bedroom? he thought. It was massive, with hardwood floors covered by an intricately patterned Turkish rug. A four-poster bed with a draped white canopy was neatly made, a plush white comforter and a dozen or so mint-green and white pillows covering its surface. But the vanity in the corner—a deep cherry wood to match the other furniture in the room, topped with a massive mirror—gave Lisa away.
Pictures of high school friends, cheerleading camp (she was a cheerleader? of course she was a cheerleader), and Lisa and T. J. in front of the Eiffel Tower, were neatly stuck around the edges of the mirror. The vanity drawer was open, and Adam saw it was cluttered with lip glosses and nail polish and metallic eye shadows.
He sat on the stool of the vanity and looked in the mirror. So, this was what it felt like to be a rich girl.
He heard the door crack open and turned, startled.
“Adam, this better be really important.” The temporary calm he’d felt seeing Lisa’s things melted and he felt his purpose and his anger return.
“The University took away Amelia’s and my financial aid today. Do you know what that means? I’m out. We’re out. No more Stanford. No more California. No more chances. We’re back on the street.” Lisa’s shoulders sank and her eyes closed in disappointment. “Oh, God,” she said
“Was it your Dad?”
She looked down at her hands and then said, weakly, “He’s a trustee of the University.”
“So, he did it?”
“He gives a lot of money to the school. They’d do it if he asked them to.” “Your father’s a dirty—”
Her eyes sprung open. “Hey!”
“What kind of a person goes around picking on eighteen-year-old foster kids?”
“Oh, please! Don’t you dare play that sympathy card with me. Do you have any idea what that little e-mail of Amelia’s did to him? To our family?
The deal’s probably off, Adam. And, more importantly, he’s on the hook for it. He didn’t catch it, Adam, and that means his ass and his reputation are on the line. Do you have any idea how many people—how many
friends
—invested in Gibly? Do you have any idea how much money was just lost?” He’d never seen her so animated. “He’s breaking the law, Lisa. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“
He’s
breaking the law? And what was Amelia doing when she hacked into the system? _She _ broke the law, and then brought down this company with speculation based on the confidential information she found.”
Now Adam was getting protective. “She did the
right thing
, Lisa. The site was totally corrupt. The deal was totally corrupt.”
“That is an assumption that you cannot prove.”
“She did! She did prove it; she found the database. She found the rotten money trail.”
“She
thinks
that’s what she found. Does she have any way of proving it?
That that’s what it
The sun was setting and he’d left his bike light at home but he didn’t care. He had to see Lisa. He peddled hard to Atherton and called Lisa’s phone from outside the front gate.
“Hello?”
“I need to see you. I’m outside your front gate.”
“What? No, Adam, you can’t be here. Dad is—”
“I have to see you, Lisa.”
“We’re in the middle of dinner. We have guests.”
“I’ll wait.”
“You can’t wait out there. They’ll see you.” He could sense her thinking on the other end, scrambling for a solution.
“Come around to the back gate. The code is 8924. There’s a key under the flowerpot next to the side door and a back staircase. Take it to the second floor and go to the third door on the right. That’s my room. I’ll be there as soon as I can, but it’s probably going to be thirty minutes at least.”
“I’m on my way.”
She hung up. Adam followed her instructions and carefully crept into her room. He wasn’t sure at first if he was in the right place. Could this really be an eighteen-year-old girl’s bedroom? he thought. It was massive, with hardwood floors covered by an intricately patterned Turkish rug. A four-poster bed with a draped white canopy was neatly made, a plush white comforter and a dozen or so mint-green and white pillows covering its surface. But the vanity in the corner—a deep cherry wood to match the other furniture in the room, topped with a massive mirror—gave Lisa away.
Pictures of high school friends, cheerleading camp (she was a cheerleader? of course she was a cheerleader), and Lisa and T. J. in front of the Eiffel Tower, were neatly stuck around the edges of the mirror. The vanity drawer was open, and Adam saw it was cluttered with lip glosses and nail polish and metallic eye shadows.
He sat on the stool of the vanity and looked in the mirror. So, this was what it felt like to be a rich girl.
He heard the door crack open and turned, startled.
“Adam, this better be really important.” The temporary calm he’d felt seeing Lisa’s things melted and he felt his purpose and his anger return.
“The University took away Amelia’s and my financial aid today. Do you know what that means? I’m out. We’re out. No more Stanford. No more California. No more chances. We’re back on the street.” Lisa’s shoulders sank and her eyes closed in disappointment. “Oh, God,” she said
“Was it your Dad?”
She looked down at her hands and then said, weakly, “He’s a trustee of the University.”
“So, he did it?”
“He gives a lot of money to the school. They’d do it if he asked them to.” “Your father’s a dirty—”
Her eyes sprung open. “Hey!”
“What kind of a person goes around picking on eighteen-year-old foster kids?”
“Oh, please! Don’t you dare play that sympathy card with me. Do you have any idea what that little e-mail of Amelia’s did to him? To our family?
The deal’s probably off, Adam. And, more importantly, he’s on the hook for it. He didn’t catch it, Adam, and that means his ass and his reputation are on the line. Do you have any idea how many people—how many
friends
—invested in Gibly? Do you have any idea how much money was just lost?” He’d never seen her so animated. “He’s breaking the law, Lisa. Doesn’t that mean anything?”
“
He’s
breaking the law? And what was Amelia doing when she hacked into the system? _She _ broke the law, and then brought down this company with speculation based on the confidential information she found.”
Now Adam was getting protective. “She did the
right thing
, Lisa. The site was totally corrupt. The deal was totally corrupt.”
“That is an assumption that you cannot prove.”
“She did! She did prove it; she found the database. She found the rotten money trail.”
“She
thinks
that’s what she found. Does she have any way of proving it?
That that’s what it
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