“You do that,” Brandt says.

It’s too late to go back to my room for the Gutenberg, but I’ve got something more important to take care of now.

By the time I hit the hallway, I’m running.

Twenty-Nine

AN HOUR LATER, I’M STANDING OUTSIDE DAD’S ROOM AT the Motel 6 with my ear to the door. There’s a do not disturb sign hanging on the knob, and I can hear the TV blasting inside.

I pound on the door and wait, but there’s no answer. I pound harder, then turn and go back up the hallway to where a housekeeping cart sits outside another room.

“Excuse me?”

The housekeeper looks at me warily.

“My dad forgot to give me the key,” I say. “Could you by any chance let me in?”

She walks back up the hall, pulls out a master key, and unlocks the room for me, stepping aside while I go in and let the door shut behind me.

The place is a Chernobyl of bachelor living run amok. Fast food wrappers clutter the unmade bed, and Dad’s clothes, dirty and clean, are scattered across the table and onto the floor. A sock dangles from a lampshade. There’s a half-empty bottle of whiskey on the table and the TV is louder than ever. I reach down to switch it off, and that’s when I hear the noises from inside the bathroom.

I walk over and look inside, pulling aside the shower curtain.

Andrea’s sitting there, tied to a chair inside the bathtub, her wrists and ankles wrapped in black electrician’s tape with what looks like about a half roll of it around her mouth. When she sees me, her eyes get really big and she starts to thrash around, stomping her feet on the floor and jerking her head up and down.

“Take it easy,” I say. “I have to find something to cut through this tape.” I go back out to the main room and dig through Dad’s suitcase until I find a pocketknife tucked into an outside compartment, then bring it back into the bathroom. “Hold still, okay?” She grunts and snorts and rolls her eyes. “Sorry. This is going to hurt.” I peel the tape off her mouth. “Are you all right?”

“What do you think?”

“Nice to see you too.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Aren’t you going to cut me loose?”

“Just calm down, and—”

“After your stupid father and that floozy girlfriend of his kidnapped me and taped me to a chair?” She jerks her arms and shoulders back and forth. “Cut this off me!”

“Okay—just try not to move.”

“You think I have a choice? I’ve been sitting here for three hours—I’m claustrophobic, and I’m going out of my mind in this tiny space!”

“Just hold on a second—I have to think.”

“What is there to think about? Cut me loose!”

I glance down. There’s a sheet of paper sticking out of her sweatshirt pocket, and I reach down and pull it out.

The letterhead reads: ebeye children’s health clinic, republic of marshall islands. And below it:

Dear Ms. Dufresne:

Thank you for your great kindness in flying our family to Connaughton Academy to receive the money that you have collected for our new orphanage. My wife and I cannot begin to express our gratitude for what you have done for the orphans of our country.

We are looking forward to seeing you soon.

God bless you.

Nathan Stanley, MD

Director, Ebeye Children’s Health Clinic,

Republic of Marshall Islands

“Wow,” I say. “This is really convincing.” I hand back the fax. “Nice job on the letterhead—it actually looks real.”

“That’s because it is, you idiot,” Andrea says.

“Wait—” And now I’m just staring at her as she’s holding up the paper. “This guy is really coming here?”

“After Brandt told me about your online poker plan,” she says, “I had to step up my game, make sure I got his money before you did. Stanley and his wife and kids are flying in tomorrow from Ebeye for a long weekend. There’s going to be reporters and TV news crews up from Boston to cover the whole event. The alumni of Connaughton are going to present him with one of those big checks with the name of the clinic on it and everything—it’s up to almost a hundred thousand now. Of course, the actual money will be going into my pocket, but hey, I don’t think I’ll be hanging around to finish the semester anyway.”

“But I thought our bet was about who got to stay.”

“Come off it, Humbert. People like us don’t belong here and we both know it. You’re telling me you were actually planning on sticking around if you won?”

“Andrea . . .” Suddenly I can’t move. This whole thing has gone too far.

“Hey, don’t look at me. You’re the one who never bothered to learn your country’s national anthem.” Her eyes narrow. “But I think Gatsby is starting to suspect something.”

“Gatsby already knows,” I say.

“What did you tell her?”

“The truth.” I start backing away.

“Wait—” Andrea starts thrashing around in the chair. If she’s not careful, she’s going to fall over. “Will, what are you doing?” she shouts. “You can’t leave me here like this! Get this tape off me!”

“I can’t right now,” I say, still backing away. “If I cut you loose, Dad will know something’s up. I’m sorry, but if you just hang in there, I think we can both get what we want.”

“That’s impossible!” she shouts. “What I want is for you to die a slow, painful death!”

“I’m sorry—I’ll be back, I promise. My dad is harmless.” I think, I add silently.

“Will, you idiot!” Stepping out of the bathroom, I hear the chair legs rattling around in the tub. “I’ll kill you for this!”

She’s still yelling at me as I duck out the motel door.

Thirty

BACK AT CONNAUGHTON, I MAKE MY WAY ACROSS CAMPUS and to my dorm. My room has definitely been searched and my stuff has been rummaged through—clothes, books, and papers strewn everywhere as if by some clumsy-fingered hurricane—but when I crawl underneath my bed, the Gutenberg is still there, taped up snugly inside my box spring.

I pull it out and walk to the library, carrying it up to the circulation desk.

“Gatsby.”

She turns around and looks at me, her face blank, as I place the Bible on the desk in front of her. She doesn’t say anything.

“I just came here to say I’m really sorry. I was so wrong. I never meant—” I stop myself, cutting short the urge to somehow justify or explain. “I did a really crappy thing by lying to you.”

She still doesn’t say anything. I’ve stood in front of suspicious cops and angry gamblers and hostile caseworkers, but those were all situations that I’d eventually managed to weasel out of or avoid completely. The only way out of this one is to go through it. I take a deep breath.

“And the worst part is, I really like you. You’re different from everybody else here.”

“No,” she says.

“What?”

“I said no.” Gatsby shakes her head. “I’m not different,” she says. “If I were, I wouldn’t have been so eager to swallow your stupid, pathetic, made-up story.”

“You trusted me,” I say. “Faith is a good trait to have.”

“Not in losers like you, it’s not.”

“Okay,” I say, “valid point. But I just—”

“Stop, Will, okay? Just . . . stop.” She’s holding up both hands. “You’ve only been here a couple weeks, and it turns out now that I never really knew you at all. Honestly, I’d prefer to just leave it at that.”

I look at her. And now I know what I have to do.

“I need to show you something,” I tell her.

She turns away, shaking her head. “What makes you think—”

“Please.” I catch her eye. “I’ll be back.” I look down at my hand and see that it’s resting on the Bible. “I swear.”