Prep School Experiment Read Free

remembered where a certain library book was shelved. She took off down the hall. “I need a picture of Jack. You’ll see.”
    The senator ran a hand over his thick blond hair, and his worried blue gaze was apologetic when it switched to Rhys. “Sorry, son. Bad day.” He held out his hand. “Steven Wentworth.”
    Rhys returned the firm grip. “What’s going on?” He looked at Christian. “Does your mom think we were switched at birth?” He examined Christian and the senator. Both had big builds, blond hair, and square jaws. “Because, dude, don’t worry. You look like your dad.”
    “I don’t think that’s what she’s saying.” Christian swallowed. “I had a brother.”
    He said it like Rhys would know what he was talking about. Rhys held his hands open.
    “My twin, Braedon, died during that hurricane,” Christian said.
    The senator flinched. But, he didn’t add anything. Rare for a politician.
    “I think Mom thinks you’re him.”
    The explanation startled a laugh out of Rhys. “Uh. Yeah? No.”
    The senator clamped a hand on his shoulder and Christian’s and nudged them down the hall. “She’ll calm down. Come on.”
    The library was lined wall-to-wall with overflowing bookshelves, big overstuffed chairs, loungers, and window seats: a reader’s paradise. It fit the librarian perfectly. She sat at a big desk, frantically clicking keys on her laptop. Images flickered across the screen.
    The senator went to a sideboard and poured lemonade from a pitcher. He carried the tall crystal glass over to his wife. She froze a moment and then pointed. “My older brother, Jack. We lost him in Desert Storm.”
    Rhys moved closer. In the image, a young man with a buzz cut dressed in military dress whites stood tall and proud with a hat crossed over his chest. His nametag read Jack Brentwood .
    He didn’t know what he thought he’d see for a moment—some picture that resembled him or maybe even his own green eyes staring back. Nope. The slim-built guy didn’t look like him. He looked like any other stranger. His tension eased, and his breathing steadied.
    The librarian’s searching eyes landed on each of them. “You see it, don’t you?”
    No one answered her.
    “Don’t you?” she insisted.
    “Honey, if there’s anything to find out, we’ll find it out. We’ll take DNA tests. Okay?” The senator opened his eyes wide at Rhys, asking him to humor her. He reminded Rhys even more of Christian.
    “Sure,” Rhys said. He’d never spun the wheel on the Who’s Your Daddy roulette table, but paternity tests held no mystery for kids from the trailer park. It involved a cheek swab and a few anxious days. Then, you knew who’d be sending child support.
    The senator thanked him with a nod and then turned to his wife. “I’ll have my driver take Rhys home. We’ll get a Wentworth lab tech over to him and get the samples taken straight-away.”
    “No,” the librarian snapped, sharp and firm. “He’s never going back to that trailer. She’s not getting near my son. Not. Ever. Again.”
    “Michelle…” The senator’s voice came out placating.
    “No. My roof. Braedon stays under my roof. That’s final. The lab tech can come here.”
    “Honey, the kid’s soaking wet. He needs clothes.”
    “Christian. Lend your brother some clothes.”
    Ooh. The lady had lost it. Rhys started to say something. But Christian shook his head and waved for him to come along. For now. They left the library and climbed a white marble staircase. The walls were lined with framed photos of Christian, an oil painting of an older couple, and a few shots of the senator and his wife. The landing held more artwork, sculptures, and knickknacks. It would take multiple semi-trucks to move this family.
    Christian went into a bedroom midway down the hall on the right. The space was bigger than Rhys’ whole trailer. It was more like a large studio apartment than a room just to sleep in. Christian opened the closet door, revealing