One of Us Is Lying

by Karen M. McManus

  Cooper doesn’t get it. I guess I should thank him; if he’d dropped me like everyone else, Vanessa would have gone nuclear on me by now. But she doesn’t dare cross the homecoming king, even when he’s been accused of steroid use. School opinion is split down the middle about whether he did it or not, but he’s not saying either way.

  I wonder if I could have done the same—bluffed and brazened my way through this whole nightmare without telling Jake the truth. Then I look at my sister, chuckling with the guy behind the coffee counter in a way she never did with Charlie, and remember how careful and contained I always had to be around Jake. If I was going to the party tonight I’d have to wear something he picked out, stay as late as he wanted, and not talk to anyone who might make him mad.

  I miss him still. I do. But I don’t miss that.

  Bronwyn

  Saturday, October 6, 10:30 a.m.

  My feet fly over the familiar path as my arms and legs match the rhythm of the music blaring in my ears. My heart accelerates and the fears that have been crowding my brain all week recede, replaced by pure physical effort. When I finish my run I’m drained but pumped full of endorphins, and feel almost cheerful as I head for the library to pick up Maeve. It’s our usual Saturday-morning routine, but I can’t find her in any of her typical spots and have to text her.

  Fourth floor, she replies, so I head for the children’s room.

  She’s sitting on a tiny chair near the window, tapping away at one of the computers. “Revisiting your childhood?” I ask, sinking to the floor beside her.

  “No,” Maeve says, her eyes on the screen. She lowers her voice to almost a whisper. “I’m in the admin panel for About That.”

  It takes a second for what she said to register, and when it does my heart takes a panicky leap. “Maeve, what the hell? What are you doing?”

  “Looking around. Don’t freak out,” she adds with a sideways glance at me. “I’m not disturbing anything, but even if I were, nobody would know it’s me. I’m at a public computer.”

  “Using your library card!” I hiss. You can’t get online here without entering your account number.

  “No. Using his.” Maeve inclines her head toward a small boy a few tables over with a stack of picture books in front of him. I stare at her incredulously, and she shrugs. “I didn’t take it from him. He left it lying out and I wrote down the numbers.”

  The little boy’s mother joins him then, smiling as she catches Maeve’s eye. She’d never guess my sweet-faced sister just committed identity theft against her six-year-old.

  I can’t think of anything to say except “Why?”

  “I wanted to see what the police are seeing,” Maeve says. “If there were any other draft posts, other people who might’ve wanted to keep Simon quiet.”

  I inch forward in spite of myself. “Were there?”

  “No, but there is something odd. About Cooper’s post. It’s date-stamped days after everyone else’s, for the night before Simon died. There’s an earlier file with his name on it, but it’s encrypted and I can’t open it.”

  “So?”

  “I don’t know. But it’s different, which makes it interesting. I need to come back with a thumb drive and download it.” I blink at her, trying to pinpoint the exact moment when she morphed into a hacker-investigator. “There’s something else. Simon’s user name for the site is AnarchiSK. I Googled it and came up with a bunch of 4chan threads he posted to constantly. I didn’t have time to read them, but we should.”

  “Why?” I ask as she loops her backpack over her shoulder and gets to her feet.

  “Because something’s weird about all this,” Maeve says matter-of-factly, leading me out the door and down the stairs. “Don’t you think?”

  “Understatement of the year,” I mutter. I stop in the empty stairwell, so she does too, half turning with a questioning look. “Maeve, how’d you even get into Simon’s admin panel? How did you know where to look?”

  A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. “You’re not the only one who grabs confidential information off computers other people were using.”

  I gape at her. “So you—so Simon was posting About That at school? And left it open?”

  “Of course not. Simon was smart. He did it here. Not sure if it was a one-time thing or if he posted from the library all the time, but I saw him one weekend last month when you were running. He didn’t see me. I logged in to the computer after him and got the address from the browser history. I didn’t do anything with it at first,” she says, meeting my incredulous look with a calm gaze. “Just put it aside for future reference. I started trying to get in after you came back from the police station. Don’t worry,” she adds, patting me on the arm. “Not from home. Nobody can trace it.”

  “Okay, but…why the interest in the app? Before Simon even died? What were you going to do?”

  Maeve purses her lips thoughtfully. “I hadn’t figured that part out. I thought maybe I’d start wiping it clean right after he posted, or switch all the text to Russian. Or dismantle the whole thing.”

  I shift my feet and stumble a little, grabbing the railing for support. “Maeve, is this because of what happened freshman year?”

  “No.” Maeve’s amber eyes get hard. “Bronwyn, you’re the one who still thinks about that. Not me. I just wanted the stupid hold he had over the entire school to stop. And, well”—she lets out a short, humorless laugh that echoes against the concrete walls of the stairwell—“I guess it did.” She starts back down the stairs with long strides and pushes hard on the exit when she gets to the bottom. I follow her silently, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that my sister was keeping a secret from me similar to the one I kept from her. And that both of them tie back to Simon.

  Maeve gives me a sunny smile when we get outside, as if the conversation we just had never happened. “Bayview Estates is on our way home. Should we pick up your forbidden technology?”

  “We could try.” I’ve told Maeve all about Nate, who called this morning to say he’d leave a phone in the mailbox of 5 Bayview Estate Road. It’s part of a new development of half-built houses, and the area tends to be deserted on weekends. “I’m not sure how early Nate gets moving on a Saturday, though.”

  We reach Bayview Estates in less than fifteen minutes, turning into a street filled with boxy, half-finished houses. Maeve puts a hand on my arm as we approach number 5. “Let me go,” she says with a forbidding air, eyes darting around dramatically as though the Bayview Police could descend with sirens blaring at any minute. “Just in case.”

  “Have at it,” I mutter. We’re probably too early anyway. It’s barely eleven.

  But Maeve returns waving a small black device with a triumphant flourish, laughing when I yank it from her. “Eager much, nerd?” When I power it up there’s one message, and I open it to a picture of a yellow-brown lizard sitting placidly on a rock in the middle of a large cage. Actual lizard, reads the caption, and I laugh out loud.

  “Oh my God,” Maeve mutters, peering over my shoulder. “Private jokes. You’re soooo into him, aren’t you?”

  I don’t have to answer her. It’s a rhetorical question.

  Cooper

  Saturday, October 6, 9:20 p.m.

  By the time I get to Olivia’s party, nearly everyone’s out of it. Somebody’s puking in the bushes as I push open the front door. I spot Keely huddled next to the stairs with Olivia, having one of those intense conversations girls get into when they’re wasted. A few juniors are toking up on the couch. Vanessa’s in a corner trying to paw at Nate, who couldn’t look less interested as he scans the room behind her. If Vanessa were a guy, somebody would’ve reported her by now for all the unsolicited groping she does. My eyes briefly meet Nate’s, and we both look away without acknowledging each other.

  I finally find Jake on the patio with Luis, who’s headed inside for more drinks. “Whaddya want?” Luis asks, clapping me on the shoulder.

  “Whatever you’re getting.” I
take a seat next to Jake, who’s listing sideways in his chair.

  “Whassup, killer?” he slurs, and sputters out a laugh. “Are you getting tired of murder jokes yet? ’Cause I’m not.”

  I’m surprised Jake is this drunk; he usually holds back during football season. But I guess his week’s been almost as bad as mine. That’s what I came to talk to him about, although as I watch him swat hazily at a bug, I’m not sure I should bother.

  I try anyway. “How’re you doing? Been a lousy few days, huh?”

  Jake laughs again, but this time not as though he finds anything funny. “That’s so Cooper of you, man. Don’t talk about your shit week, just check in on mine. You’re a goddamn saint, Coop. You really are.”

  The edge in his voice warns me I shouldn’t take the bait, but I do. “You mad at me for something, Jake?”

  “Why would I be? It’s not like you’re defending my whore ex-girlfriend to anybody who’ll listen. Oh, wait. That’s exactly what you’re doing.”

  Jake narrows his eyes at me, and I realize I can’t have the conversation I came to have. He’s in no frame of mind to talk about easing up on Addy at school. “Jake, I know Addy’s in the wrong. Everybody knows it. She made a stupid mistake.”

  “Cheating isn’t a mistake. It’s a choice,” Jake says furiously, and for a second he sounds stone-cold sober. He drops his empty beer bottle on the ground and cocks his head with an accusing glare. “Where the hell is Luis? Hey.” He grabs the arm of a passing sophomore and plucks an unopened beer out of his hand, twisting the cap off and taking a long sip. “What was I saying? Oh yeah. Cheating. That’s a choice, Coop. You know, my mom cheated on my dad when I was in junior high. Screwed up our whole family. Threw a grenade right in the middle and—” He flings an arm, spilling half his beer, and makes a whoosh sound. “Everything exploded.”

  “I didn’t know that.” I’d met Jake when I moved to Bayview in eighth grade, but we didn’t start hanging out till high school. “Sorry, man. That makes it even worse, huh?”

  Jake shakes his head, eyes glittering. “Addy has no clue what she’s done. Ruined everything.”

  “But your dad…forgave your mom, right? They’re still together?” It’s a stupid question. I was at his house a month ago for a cookout before all this started. His dad was grilling hamburgers and his mom was talking to Addy and Keely about a new manicure place that opened in Bayview Center. Like normal. Like always.

  “Yeah, they’re together. Nothing’s the same, though. It’s never been the same.” Jake’s staring in front of him with such disgust that I don’t know what to say. I feel like a jerk for telling Addy she should come, and I’m glad she didn’t listen to me.

  Luis returns and hands us both a beer. “You going to Simon’s tomorrow?” he asks Jake.

  I think I can’t possibly have heard Luis right, but Jake says, “I guess.”

  Luis catches my confused look. “His mom asked a bunch of us to come over and, like, take something to remember him by before they pack his stuff. Creeps me out since I barely knew the guy, but she seems to think we were friends so what can you say, right?” He takes a sip of his beer and cocks an eyebrow at me. “Guess you’re not invited?”

  “Nope,” I say, feeling a little sick. The last thing I want to do is pick through Simon’s things in front of his grieving parents, but if all my friends are going, the slight’s pretty clear. I’m under suspicion, and not welcome.

  “Simon, man.” Jake shakes his head solemnly. “He was freaking brilliant.” He holds his beer up and for a second I think he’s going to pour it onto the patio in a homeboy salute, but he refrains and drinks it instead.

  Olivia joins us, wrapping one arm around Luis’s waist. Guess those two are back on again. She pokes me with her free hand and holds up her phone, her face bright with that excited look she gets when she’s about to share a great piece of gossip. “Cooper, did you know you’re in the Bayview Blade?”

  The way she says it, I’m pretty sure they’re not covering baseball. This night keeps getting better. “Had no idea.”

  “Sunday edition, online tonight. All about Simon. They’re not…accusing you, exactly, but the four of you are named as persons of interest, and they mention that stuff Simon was gonna post about you. There’re pictures of you all. And, um, it’s been shared a few hundred times already. So.” Olivia hands me her phone. “It’s out there now, I guess.”

  Nate

  Monday, October 8, 2:50 p.m.

  I hear the rumors before I see the news vans. Three of them parked out front of the school with reporters and camera crews waiting for last bell to ring. They’re not allowed on school property, but they’re as close as they can get.

  Bayview High is loving this. Chad Posner finds me after last period to tell me people are practically lining up to be interviewed outside. “They’re asking about you, man,” he warns. “You might wanna head out the back. They’re not allowed in the parking lot, so you can cut through the woods on your bike.”

  “Thanks.” I take off and scan the hallway for Bronwyn. We don’t talk much at school to avoid—as she says in her lawyer voice—the appearance of collusion. But I’ll bet this will freak her out. I spot her at her locker with Maeve and one of her friends, and sure enough she looks ready to throw up. When she sees me she waves me closer, not even trying to pretend she hardly knows me.

  “Did you hear?” she asks, and I nod. “I don’t know what to do.” A horrified realization crosses her face. “I guess we have to drive past them, don’t we?”

  “I’ll drive,” Maeve volunteers. “You can, like, hide in the back or something.”

  “Or we can stay here till they leave,” her friend suggests. “Wait them out.”

  “I hate this,” Bronwyn says. Maybe it’s the wrong time to notice, but I like how her face floods with color whenever she feels strongly about something. It makes her look twice as alive as most people, and more distracting than she already does in a short dress and boots.

  “Come with me,” I say. “I’m taking my bike out back to Boden Street. I’ll bring you to the mall. Maeve can pick you up later.”

  Bronwyn brightens as Maeve says, “That’ll work. I’ll come find you in half an hour at the food court.”

  “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” mutters the other girl, giving me a hard look. “If they catch you together it’ll be ten times worse.”

  “They won’t catch us,” I say shortly.

  I’m not positive Bronwyn’s on board, but she nods and tells Maeve she’ll see her soon, meeting her friend’s annoyed glance with a calm smile. I feel this stupid rush of triumph, like she chose me, even though she basically chose not winding up on the five o’clock news. But she walks close to me as we head out the back door to the parking lot, not seeming to care about the stares. At least they’re the kind we’ve gotten used to. No microphones or cameras involved.

  I hand her my helmet and wait for her to settle herself on my bike and loop her arms around me. Too tight again, but I don’t mind. Her death grip, along with how her legs look in that dress, is why I engineered this escape in the first place.

  We’re not in the woods long before the narrow trail I’m taking widens into a dirt path that runs past a row of houses behind the school. I take back roads for a couple of miles until we make it to the mall, and ease my bike into a parking spot as far from the entrance as I can get. Bronwyn takes the helmet off and hands it to me, squeezing my arm as she does. She swings her legs onto the pavement, her cheeks flushed and her hair tousled. “Thanks, Nate. That was nice of you.”

  I didn’t do it to be nice. My hand reaches out and catches her around the waist, pulling her toward me. And then I stop, not sure what to do next. I’m off my game. If anyone had asked me ten minutes ago, I would have said I don’t have game. But now it occurs to me that I probably do, and it’s not giving a shit.

  When I’m still sitting and she’s standing we’re almost the same height. She’s close enough for me to no
tice that her hair smells like green apples. I can’t stop looking at her lips while I wait for her to back away. She doesn’t, and when I raise my eyes to hers it feels like the breath is yanked right out of my lungs.

  Two thoughts run through my head. One, I want to kiss her more than I want air. And two, if I do I’m bound to screw everything up and she’ll stop looking at me that way.

  A van screeches into the spot next to us and we both jump, bracing for the Channel 7 News camera crew. But it’s an ordinary soccer-mom van filled with screaming kids. When they tumble out Bronwyn blinks and moves off to the side. “Now what?” she asks.

  Now wait till they’re gone and get back here. But she’s already walking toward the entrance. “Buy me a giant pretzel for saving your ass,” I say instead. She laughs and I wonder if she’s thankful for the interruption.

  We walk past the potted palms that frame the front entrance, and I pull the door open for a stressed-looking mother with two screaming toddlers in a double stroller. Bronwyn flashes her a sympathetic smile but as soon as we’re inside it disappears and she ducks her head. “Everyone’s staring at me. You were smart not to have your class picture taken. That photo in the Bayview Blade didn’t even look like you.”

  “Nobody’s staring,” I tell her, but it’s not true. The girl folding sweaters at Abercrombie & Fitch widens her eyes and pulls out her phone when we pass by. “Even if they were, all you’d have to do is take your glasses off. Instant disguise.”

  I’m kidding, but she pulls them off and reaches into her bag for a bright-blue case she snaps them into. “Good idea, except I’m blind without them.” I’ve seen Bronwyn without glasses only once before, when they got knocked off by a volleyball in fifth-grade gym class. It was the first time I’d noticed her eyes weren’t blue like I always thought, but a clear, bright gray.

  “I’ll guide you,” I tell her. “That’s a fountain. Don’t walk into it.”

  Bronwyn wants to go to the Apple store, where she squints at iPod Nanos for her sister. “Maeve’s starting to run now. She keeps borrowing mine and forgetting to charge it.”