Then she ripped her hand from his and marched straight toward me.

Her face was flushed, her eyes already full of tears.
My stomach dropped.
“Elsie? What happened?”
She stopped a few feet away, breathing hard.
“How could you?” she said.
I froze. “What?”
“You paid him, didn’t you?” Her voice cracked so loudly the nearby conversations stopped. “You felt sorry for me, so you paid Mason to pretend he liked me.”
Everyone turned.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“No,” I whispered. “Sweetheart, no. I swear I didn’t.”
Her mouth trembled.
“Then why would he say that?”
I reached for her, but she stepped back.
“Elsie, listen to me.”
“Don’t,” she said, her voice shaking. “Just don’t.”
Then she turned and walked away.
I was about to follow her when Mason appeared beside me.
For one second, I thought he had come to apologize.
Instead, he leaned close and said, “I did my part. Now it’s your turn.”
I stared at him.
“What deal?”
His jaw tightened. He glanced toward Elsie, then toward the hallway near the stage.
“Don’t make a scene. Come with me.”
I should have called the principal right then.
Instead, I followed him.
Mason led me down the dim hallway past the trophy case and music room. He stopped at a small supply closet behind the stage and opened the door.
Inside, under a flickering light, a man sat hunched on an overturned bucket.
At first, I only saw gray hair and tired shoulders.
Then he lifted his head.
“YOU?” I shouted. “You did this? How could you?”
Darren stood so quickly he nearly hit the shelf behind him.
“Rachel, I can explain—”
“No. You don’t get to explain. You left me and Elsie the night you walked out of my prom. And now you used a teenage boy to manipulate your own daughter? What could you possibly say to justify that?”
Mason flinched.
Darren frowned.
“I didn’t hire him. Not exactly. We made an arrangement. But that’s not the point. I did this because I needed one chance to talk to her.”
I stared at him, too stunned to speak.
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