The Red Frame

My knees buckled. I stared at Professor Alden’s body. Just twenty minutes ago, he was looking at me with disappointment. Now, his eyes were open and empty, staring at nothing.

"No," I whispered. "He was alive. He was just in the library."

"Victoria is fast," Cassian said, his voice cold. He didn’t lower the gun. "She knew the Professor wouldn’t stay quiet once he realized Maxwell wasn’t the only one in that vault. He saw her, Loveth. And now, he’s the reason you’re going to spend the rest of your life in a cage."

I looked at the knife. My scholarship letter was the piece of paper that represented my mother’s dreams and my sweat was wrapped around the handle. It was soaked in dark, thick red.

"You're working with her," Maxwell growled. He stepped in front of me, shielding me from Cassian’s aim. "You’ve always wanted my spot, Cassian. But murder? That’s low, even for a Vale."

"I’m not working with her," Cassian spat. "I’m winning. Victoria kills the witness, you take the fall, and I become the hero who finds the body. Everyone wins. Except you two."

Outside, sirens screamed. They were close. The blue and red lights flashed against the office walls, turning everything into a bloody blur.

"Maxwell," I whispered, grabbing his arm. My heart was thumping so hard it hurt. "We have to go. If the police find us here with a body and that knife..."

"We can't go out the door," Maxwell said, his eyes darting around the room. "Cassian, move. I’m not going to tell you again."

Cassian laughed. It was a dry, hollow sound. "Or what? You'll tell my father? My father owns the police force in this town, Maxwell. You’re a Thorne. Your name is trash now."

I looked at the desk. There was a heavy glass award, a trophy for 'Academic Excellence.' It felt like a joke. I didn't think so. I didn't plan. I just acted. I grabbed the trophy and flung it at the large window behind Cassian.

CRASH!

The glass exploded outward. The cold night air rushed in. Cassian flinched, instinctively turning toward the noise.

"Run!" I yelled.

Maxwell didn't hesitate. He lunged at Cassian, tackling him to the ground. The gun skidded across the floor, disappearing under the mahogany desk.

"Go, Loveth! Out the window!" Maxwell shouted as he pinned Cassian’s arms down.

"Not without you!" I screamed back.

"I’ll be right behind you! Just go!"

I scrambled over the window ledge. We were on the second floor. Below us was a thick van parked in the driveway, the catering truck for the Spring Gala. I jumped. The impact jolted my teeth, but the roof of the van broke my fall. I slid down to the grass, my heart in my mouth.

Seconds later, Maxwell tumbled down beside me. He was bleeding from a cut on his forehead, but he was alive.

"The Gala," he panted, grabbing my hand. "We have to get to the Gala before Victoria starts her speech. It's the only way to expose her in front of the donors. If we tell the police now, they’ll just listen to Cassian’s father."

We ran through the shadows of the campus. The big white tent for the Gala was glowing like a giant lantern in the distance. Music was playing soft, expensive violin music that made my skin crawl.

Inside that tent, people were drinking champagne and laughing. They had no idea a man was dead in the office. They had no idea a girl from the slums was being framed for it.

"Wait," I said, stopping behind a large stone pillar near the tent entrance. "The ring. She said it was in my room. Under my pillow."

"She was lying," Maxwell said, wiping blood from his eye. "She wouldn’t put the evidence somewhere you could find it. She wants the police to find it. She’s probably already sent a 'tip' to the guards."

"Then where is it?"

Maxwell looked at the tent. "She’s wearing it. I know Victoria. She can't resist showing off her prize. She’ll have it hidden under a glove or a piece of jewelry, but she’ll be wearing it."

I looked at my reflection in a dark window. I was covered in dirt. My school uniform was torn. My hair was a mess.

"I can't go in there like this," I said. "They’ll arrest me before I reach the stage."

Maxwell looked at a rack of coats near the kitchen entrance. He grabbed a long, expensive silk wrap and a server’s vest. "Put these on. Hide the dirt. I’ll go through the front. I’ll make a scene to draw the guards away from the stage. When I do, you get to the microphone."

"Maxwell, if you go through the front, they’ll catch you for the theft," I warned.

"Let them," he said. He looked at me, and for the first time, he reached out and touched my cheek. His hand was shaking. "You're the journalist, Loveth. Tell the story. Make them listen."

He turned and walked toward the bright lights of the entrance. I watched him go, the Golden Boy walking into a trap to save me.

I wrapped the silk around my shoulders and slipped into the kitchen. The smell of roasted meat and perfume was sickening. I pushed through the swinging doors into the main ballroom.

Hundreds of people were there. Victoria Hale stood on the high stage, glowing under a spotlight. She looked like a queen.

"And now," Victoria said into the microphone, her voice sweet as honey, "to celebrate our history, I would like to present the Founder’s Ring..."

She held up her hand. But the box was empty.

A loud gasp went through the crowd. Victoria looked shocked, but then she pointed a finger directly at the back of the room.

At me.

"There she is!" Victoria screamed. "The thief! And she has a knife!"

I looked down. My hand was empty, but when I looked at the white silk wrap I had taken, a long, bloody blade slid out of the folds and clattered onto the floor.

The crowd screamed.

"She killed Professor Alden!" Victoria’s voice rang out like a bell. "Stop her!"

The guards lunged for me, but a hand grabbed my shoulder from behind and jerked me into the dark kitchen hallway.

I turned, ready to fight, but stopped cold.

It was my mother. She was wearing a server’s uniform, her face gray with fear.

"Loveth, run," she whispered. "They have your sister. They have her in the basement."