chapter eleven

One down, but my identity exposed. HOPEFULLY this will be easier than 50-50 percent.

        "I think we need to go back to my room and talk," Yixing said.

"I think maybe we should talk right here," I countered, my heart slamming into my ribs.

Yixing didn't even blink. "If you want to talk to me, it's not gonna be here," he said. "And I really think you want to talk to me as much as I want to talk to you." 

Okay. Apparently, Yixing had seen one too many episodes of Law & Order. He clearly thought my room was bugged. But going back to his room could be the stupidest of stupid cop moves. Who knew what he might have waiting there for me?

"Are you coming?" he asked. 

Just tell me, I thought. Just tell me you're the guy and let's get this over with. I was dying to know. I was dying to hear him say it. 

"Fine," I said, grabbing my jacket. "Let's go." 

As Yixing walked me back to his dorm room, my brain flipped into crisis mode. A million thoughts crowded my mind. I knew the conversation with Donny Burke's mother, not to mention my Connecticut-California slip at our first lunch, definitely had got him thinking. But how had he found out my real name? And more important, was he the dealer? And if so, what was he going to do once he got me alone in his room? A couple of times I thought about bolting—making a run for it and calling Kris—but two things made me forgo this course of action. 

First, at this point my curiosity was immeasurable. If Yixing was the bad guy, I needed to know. 

Second, if I ran off and called Kris, I was going to feel like a big, fat baby.

Yixing was silent all the way across the quad and up the stairs of the boys' dorm. It gave me time to come up with a tactic for handling the situation. I was not going to grovel. I was not going to reveal a thing. I had to exercise some restraint and let Yixing talk. Once I found out what he was after, I could proceed from there.

We walked into his room, and he shut the door behind us. My heart was pounding with nervousness. From behind his dresser, Yixing pulled out something that looked like a blunt sword attached to an electrical cord. It looked like some kind of medieval torture device. This was when I started to fret that my life might actually be in jeopardy. 

Okay, you can take him, I told myself. You're a martial arts expert, he's a computer geek. You do the math. 

Yixing flicked a switch on the handle of the wand and walked over to me. My eyes widened, and I clenched my hands into fists, readying myself for an assault. Then he the implement in my direction. I was about to disarm him, but at the last second, I realized he was going to miss my body by inches—which he did. Instead of impaling me with the device, Yixing started running it around my body. 

"What're you doing?" I couldn't help but ask. 

"Checking for bugs," Yixing said matter-of-factly. He then systematically checked my legs and arms, then ran the wand over my back. 

I had to laugh. Why was I even remotely surprised that Yixing had spy gear like this in his room? 

"So, Luhan, you did win the Connecticut State Karate Tournament in your weight division last year," He said, laying the device aside finally and glaring into my eyes. "And your good friend, Yifan, is the chief of police, right? So what, he found out about my exploits and sent you here to spy on me?" 

I said nothing. It sounded like Yixing might be on the verge of a revelation. If he was about to confess, I was going to let him prattle on. The sooner we got this over with, the better. I could practically taste freedom from Hereford on my tongue. 


"But you didn't count on the fact that I was prepared, did you?" Yixing continued. He walked over to his computer and smiled at me complacently. "You see, Lu, I have a system on my computer that tells me when anyone unauthorized has been using it." 

My heart fell. Of course. A guy as paranoid as Yixing would definitely have some kind of anti-hack program on his computer. I knew it had been too easy. 

What is it?" I asked. "Do the keys recognize alien fingerprints or something?" 

"Not quite," He said. "I have a camera." 

He reached out and cupped the little ball on the top of his computer screen. A little ball with a lens in it. He adjusted it until it was facing me, and my nose appeared all huge and distorted on the monitor. I couldn't believe I had been that negligent. The camera was sitting right there! 

"You must not be that good at your job," Yixing said, echoing my thoughts. "All you had to do was tamper with the wire, and I never would have known you were on here." 

"Great, thanks for the tip." I said. 

"When I overheard that woman asking you all about the county championships the other day, it got me to thinking about you and a couple of things you've said that didn't add up, so I checked out the roster from last year's competition, " Yixing explained. "There was even a picture of you with your trophy on their website. You really should learn to cover your bases." 

I took a deep breath and looked away. I was not going to capitulate to this guy. Let him show off about how smart he was. Sooner or later he would get around to the good stuff.

"Of course, then I realized that you had tricked me into leaving you alone in here the other night, so I checked my tape and there you were, searching my files," Yixing continued, shaking his head as if to chasten me. He hit a couple of buttons on his computer, and my ID photo from Stanford popped up on the screen. "Look what I found when I ran your real name!" he announced as if it was a big surprise. "You're in the index of the freshman class at Stanford University. You're not even in high school." 

Again, I said nothing, but the whole situation was galling. I had come to Hereford all cocky and arrogant and ready to save the world, and now here was I was, trapped in a dorm room with a computer geek illustrating to me my every mistake. The gravity of the situation began to creep up on me. Yixing had blown my cover. I had failed Yifan. My presence here was now totally and utterly pointless. 

"So, I know you found my list of customers." Yixing said, sitting down in his desk chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "What're you going to do now, report me to Cox?" 

I blinked. Didn’t he realize the situation was a little more serious than that? Still, I said nothing. Jongdae would have been so proud. Yixing liked to talk and loved to brag. My silence would most likely irk into saying too much, which he hadn’t yet done. He had admitted to having customers, he’d admitted to having exploits, but he’d yet to come right out and say he was a drug dealer. I couldn’t leave this room without a confession, but yet eventually it got the best of him.

“You know, I don’t really think that I can be held liable for everything, here,” Yixing said, standing. He started to pace the room and ramble, his hand tucked securely under his arms. “I mean, this problem was rampant way before I ever came here. I just took it over, you know? Why do I have to be the one to take the fall? And, God, it’s just a little innocent fun. What else do they expect us to do around here?”

“Innocent fun?” I blurted. “Yixing, you’re hurting people!”

“How? Everyone here has more money than God!” Yixing said, whirling on me. “If they want to gamble it away, isn’t that their business?”

I opened my mouth to retort, but the words caught in my throat. Wait a minute—gamble?

Suddenly I had a massive headache.
“You’re running a gambling ring,” I stated, my brain struggling to digest this new information. That was what the list of dollar amounts represented. Those people owed money for gambling, not drugs.

We already know this,” Yixing said impatiently. “What we don’t know is what you’re going to do about it.”

I wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved, angry, or totally disappointed. Part of me was glad that Yixing was innocent—of the drug dealing at least. But if it wasn’t him, that meant it had to be Sehun or Jongin. And I really didn’t want it to be Sehun. So that left Jongin. Jongin whom I had seen exchanging money with Yixing last week after the karate match. The karate match in which Marshall had lost.

Wait a