Page 29 of Us in Ruins
His fingers coiled back around the shard. Even if he didn’t say it, she knew it was the truth. But there was something in the way he held the shard like a peace offering that softened the sting.
He dropped his gaze toward her backpack, the other shard still safely inside. “Turn around,” he said. When she twisted, he opened her backpack and slid the shard into the zippered compartment, right next to the first fragment. “Whatever you do, don’t lose them.”
“I won’t,” she said, turning back toward him and sticking out her littlest finger. “We’re partners, remember? Pinky swear.”
He examined her finger, all the while keeping his hand at his side. “That won’t be necessary.”
Margot’s mouth sank into a frustrated scowl. Just when she thought they were making progress.
As they approached the courtyard, all eyes turned to them. Dr. Hunt lurched upright, pacing away from where she’d been helping Suki classify something at her foldable desk.
Margot imagined how she must have looked—disheveled and waterlogged. She’d been gone for hours with no warning, only to return looking like she’d lost a fistfight with Davy Jones himself.
“Margot,” Dr. Hunt said, little more than a hiss. “Where have you been?”
“And who have you been there with?” Suki asked, butting in.
Margot stuttered, all her words gathering in her mouth but refusing to form coherent sentences. She needed an excuse, and she needed it fast, but her brain still sloshed with Nymphaeum water. “I didn’t mean to, um. I—”
“She was with me,” Van said behind her. “I just arrived. Margot came to get me from the train station.”
Something stirred in Margot’s chest. Sticking his neck out for her... it was sweet in an I-nearly-got-you-killed kind of way. “You know, because of the buddy system.”
Dr. Hunt’s attention shifted to Van. She blinked up at him as if trying to place him in her mind. “And you’re?”
“Van...”
“Vanderson,” Margot flubbed. “Last name. First name, uh, Chad. You know Chad. He transferred to Radcliffe during winter break and joined the archaeology club.”
“Chad Vanderson?” Dr. Hunt asked, eyeing Van suspiciously. “Did I read your application essay?”
“Yes,” the syrupy lie dripped easily off Van’s tongue.
Dr. Hunt nodded half-heartedly. “There must have been a misunderstanding. Our trip is fully booked.”
Margot gaped, unable to hide the shock on her face. No way did she unearth the key to finding the Vase only to get thwarted by academic logistics. “He can stay, though. Right?”
“I’m so sorry,” Dr. Hunt said. “Without a co-chaperone, I can’t supervise any additional students. I hate that you came all this way.”
Suddenly, Van’s posture shifted. His shoulders straightened, chin tilting at a haughty angle. Even the tenor of his voice lilted, cool and unaffected. “Surely you can find a way to accommodate me after everything my father has contributed to the school. I am a Vanderson, after all.”
“He is a Vanderson, after all,” Margot echoed. She plucked one of the tools from the holster at his waistband. “And look, he even brought his own trowel!”
“That’s a spade, Margot,” Van said, under his breath.
Margot swallowed hard. She scratched nervously at the skin on her neck. “Point is, he’s totally ready for the class.”
Dr. Hunt sighed. A sound Margot knew all too well. It sounded like every time her dad had to let her down easy. “There’s just no—”
“He can be my partner,” Suki offered quickly. Moon-wide eyes roved over Van, head to toe.
“That’s okay, Suki. He can join Topher and Calvin at Plot C,” Dr. Hunt said. To Van she added, “You’ll room with them and Rex at the hotel. I’ll make sure we get an extra bed for you. At least until I can get in touch with Radcliffe and see if we can straighten out this... misunderstanding.”
Across the courtyard, Topher waved half-heartedly. The movement was laced with suspicion. Calvin, a redheaded boy who seriously needed to re-up on his SPF, crooked his head next to him, confused. No one, obviously, recognized Van from the archaeology club. Margot just hoped they wouldn’t realize she’d Mandela effected them. At least until she got her hands on the Vase.
“Your father’s money?” Margot asked as they neared their dig plots.
“The only thing deeper than the Vandersons’ coffers is our confidence,” he said, still even-keeled although Margot swore the corner of his lip tilted upward. With that act, Van deserved a daytime Emmy.