by Dana Mele
The tricky part is that sometimes you need to fill in details that may not have been there before in order to make the truth real.
Maybe I wasn’t with Todd when the pictures were being sent out. Maybe I didn’t drive around with him looking for his stolen phone. Maybe I didn’t find it with him, hours after the pictures had been sent.
But none of those truths I created were inconsistent with what I believed. Which were that he did lose his phone and drive around looking for it, and he didn’t deserve to have his life ruined just because he didn’t have an alibi. If Todd took the blame, I could never prove to Megan that what I said to her was okay. That it really was someone else who hurt her. And when I found that person, they would pay in blood.
Only it was Megan who paid.
Then Todd.
And then I was alone.
12
Nola and I hole up on the top floor of the library on Saturday night to study and unlock the next recipe. It’s a long weekend because of Veterans Day, and virtually everyone is taking advantage of the bonus study time. Most of the building is packed with people preparing for midterms, but up here it’s quiet as usual. It’s slowly become our personal hangout, our refuge from the noise and drama that Bates Academy has evolved into. No one can shut up about the cat or the murder or Dr. Klein’s slowly deteriorating physical appearance for five seconds. People have started to whisper and stare at me, and players are showing up late or not at all for practice. I haven’t spoken to Cori since our awkward dinner or Maddy since our coffee date, and I’ve been successful at ducking Brie’s calls. Luckily, she’s been buried under a pile of books in preparation for the coming midterms, and she usually studies in her room. This weekend is also her and Justine’s one-year anniversary. It would have been Spencer’s and mine, too. Right now Brie is in New York, probably eating tiny portions of foods I can’t pronounce in a restaurant where they serve champagne instead of water and give you massages at your seat. I ate a doughy square of microwave pizza from the athletic center’s snack machine as I jogged to the library after practice. It burned the roof of my mouth.
Everything is the worst.
Nola and I settle into the big overstuffed green chair together, and Nola positions her laptop so we can both see the screen.
“I brought snacks.” I open a bottle of grapefruit soda, pour it into two paper cups, and break a giant chocolate chip cookie in half. Fuck Spencer. And Brie and Justine and their fancy anniversary weekend. I’ve got Nola, refined sugars, and revenge from beyond the grave.
“Thanks.” She bites into one as she opens the website and password-decoding software, and types into it rapidly. The word b@ckf1r3 appears. She enters it into the website and clicks on the link to the side dish. The oven opens, revealing the recipe for Prueba Con Coriander, and the timer begins.
Got a tough one? Don’t despair!
You only fail if you play fair.
She’s the one who knows what’s fore
Time to settle up the score
Knock another castle down
Watch the queen fall to the ground.
“Cori would be the obvious target.” I read it again. “Isn’t prueba a proof or test?”
Nola frowns critically. “She plays golf, so she ‘knows what’s fore.’ These puns are getting overbearing. What’s the castle and the queen? A chess reference? Castling only works on kings. Does Cori have a secret girlfriend?”
“Cori is the castle. Once we knock her out, the queen is left open. Doesn’t play fair. Test scores. So, what, she has test answers in her locker?” For some reason, this pisses me off. She’s never offered to help me, and she knows I struggle. Not that I would cheat. But why wouldn’t she offer?
“Sorry. Look, it’s not prison worthy. Just talk to her and tell her to ditch the evidence. The others have been pretty incriminating. Drugs, sex scandal, murder.”
“I don’t know if an animal counts as murder.”
Fear flashes in Nola’s eyes. “It counts as something. You said yourself they think it’s connected to Jessica’s murder. The point is, this one isn’t actually that bad. Just tell her now before it goes public.”
A thought crosses my mind. “Do you think we can stop that by just removing her name from the class roster? I mean, Tai might have been kicked out, but Tricia chose to leave, and you never had to.”
“Why is the class roster so important?”
“Maybe one website is linked to the other or something? I don’t really understand codes and algorithms and matrices.”
Nola holds up a hand. “You’re embarrassing yourself. I get what you’re saying, though. One might be programmed to detect an alteration to the other.”
I show her the email from Jessica again. “It doesn’t say the targets have to drop out. But the names have to be removed and I have to follow the instructions in the poems.”
“Which means you have to ‘knock her down.’ That sounds like a public callout to me.” Nola pauses. “So what did you do?”
The perfect lie is a misplaced truth. “Dear Valentine. Same as everyone else.”
We make our way downstairs, where every carrel and table is packed with students poring over books. Nola stops suddenly halfway down the grand wooden staircase that cascades down through the center of the main floor, and grabs me around the waist. She hooks her chin over my shoulder and places her cold hand under my jaw, slowly turning my skull down and to the left. Cori is sitting in a carrel across from Maddy, right in the center of the room, books spread out all around them.
“Do it now and it’s over,” Nola whispers.
I suddenly wish Brie were here, but she would tell me not to do it, and I don’t have a choice. I don’t think I could follow through with this if she were watching. I swallow hard and descend the rest of the stairs.
Cori looks up when I reach her side, but she doesn’t say anything, nor does she smile. Maddy gives me a little wave, then glances at Cori nervously.
“Can we step outside for five?” I whisper.
“No,” Cori says at a normal speaking volume. Several people look up, annoyed.
Holly Gartner glares up at me. “‘Ask not for whom the bell tolls,’” she says under her breath.
I look down at her. “I’m sorry, what was that?”
Holly folds her arms over her chest defiantly. “Whose life did you come to ruin today?” The other girls at her table exchange glances.
I’m astounded, not just that she used almost the same words Spencer threw at me casually a few days ago, but because she would normally never dare to speak to me this way. No one would.
Cori turns back to her book. “Tai, Tricia, then Holly. Give me your best shot, Kay.”
I throw up my hands. “Fine, Cori. You know what you did.”
Holly stands up and gets in my face. “What did I do?”
Nola pushes her with her shoulder. “Kay wasn’t talking to you.”
I pull Nola aside. “Thanks. I’ve got this.” Holly is roughly one and a half times Nola’s size. Good intentions will not result in a happy ending if she’s in a dramatic mood. I turn to Holly. “Let’s talk about this before next practice. Right now I need to straighten something out with my friend.”
Cori slams her book shut. “Nope. Not friend. We don’t even hang out anymore. You spend all your time with Necro Morticia Manson herself. I don’t know whether you’re besties with benefits or without, but I hope she’s damn good at something. Because she’s creepy as hell and she’s turning you into a freak.”
I glance at Nola, who is just looking at Cori with narrowed eyes and lips pressed tightly together. I feel like she’s waiting for me to say something, but I’m so angry, my jaw feels wired shut. I turn back to Cori, my face growing hotter, my eyes burning, aware that everyone has stopped studying and is watching us.
“You embarrassed yourself and your en
tire team by letting Nola play. You embarrass us by hanging out with her. You never ever went against the group before Nola. Now you ruin lives. Tai. Tricia. You want to try me, be my guest, bitch. Your credibility is gone. Everyone thinks you’re crazy. Maddy thinks you’ve lost it.”
Maddy gets up. “Cori, that’s not okay.”
“Shut up, Notorious.”
“I never said that, Kay.” She grabs her books and runs out of the room through a stunned crowd.
Cori takes a step toward me and keeps talking in her terrifying, rapid-fire speech. “Even Brie says you’re a lost cause. So until you pull your shit together, I am not interested in continuing this paranoid conversation, or any other one.” She sits and opens her book again.
I pick her textbook up and drop it to the ground. “Why are you even pretending? You don’t need to study if you have the exams in advance. You’re a cheater. And you can go crying to Klein to protect you from consequences, but now everyone knows it.”
For a moment, the entire room is silent as if muffled by a blanket of snow. Then Cori speaks again, with deadly calm.
“Let’s talk about cheating, Kay. You love to play the victim. Poor heartbroken Kay. Torn to pieces by Spencer’s betrayal. Except it didn’t go down like that, did it? You did it to him first. In his own bed. And your new best friend? I’m sure she’d love to know some of the things you said about her when she first got here. Then there’s Jessica Lane. There are only three people in the world who had a motive to kill her. Her ex-boyfriend, the guy she cheated with, and you. And you’re unraveling, Kay.”
I can’t listen to another word or take another pair of eyes on me. I turn around and run.
* * *
• • •
IT WAS THE first house party of the school year. I had spent the summer at soccer camp and hadn’t seen Brie or Spencer since June. We were all drinking, and Justine and Spencer were getting high outside when Brie and I decided it would be funny to switch our clothes. We went into Spencer’s room, and the narrow stairs up to his attic bedroom had made me dizzy, so I sat down on the bed.
She lay down next to me to kick her sneakers off.
His ceiling had glow-in-the dark stars on it and there was classic rock music pounding from downstairs—the song “7” by Prince—and Brie started singing in a breathless voice as she struggled with her sneaker.
We had slept side by side so many nights, but there was only this particular moment, in this bed that was the worst possible bed to be in together, with the stars swirling with alcohol, and the shoes that wouldn’t come off. And the music and the urgency of Spencer and Justine outside smoking. Before I had a chance to catch my breath, her lips were on mine and we were kissing each other fast and hard, because we knew we were playing with fire. There was an invisible timer running down. Her shirt came off and her bra got stuck, and the clock penalized us. She stopped to laugh at my old-lady underwear when she was pulling my jeans down over my knees.
And that’s what the clock didn’t forgive.
Because that’s the moment Spencer walked in.
Everything had been moving at hyperspeed, and then it skipped and slowed. Spencer closed the door behind him and slid down to the floor against it and just looked at me, his eyes pink and glazed. His cheeks were flushed and his hair was falling in his eyes and I realized I was never going to be allowed to touch him or kiss him again, and suddenly I couldn’t breathe. Because that was exactly how Megan’s and Todd’s deaths finally hit me. I could remember them any damn way I wanted, but they would never be tangible. They could never be proven. I could never touch them again.
I started to hyperventilate, my pulse and mind racing sickeningly fast. Brie pulled my hand into hers and I yanked it away. She looked at me like I’d slapped her in the face and asked me what I wanted and I just kept saying I wanted another chance. She finally got up and left without a word, and Spencer sat down next to me and asked me if I loved him.
I told him the truth, yes, how could I not?
He asked if I still loved Brie.
And I lied, no, it’s impossible to love two people.
He held me and stroked my hair until I could breathe again, and he lied, too, and said we would somehow be okay.
13
The next day, I can’t bear the thought of facing anyone and escape to the Cat Café to study alone in the corner, armed with an open tab of coffee. It’s a little uncomfortable being surrounded by nothing but images and statues of cats now, and it feels almost like they are grinning down like grotesque, mocking Cheshire Cats, taunting me. But this is the place I have always come to unwind, and Hunter’s unfortunate demise is not going to change that. It’s not like I killed him. I’m very sorry he is dead, and even sorrier for Dr. Klein, but I am not giving up my perfect meeting spot because of it. I force myself to focus on my homework, and I make it until noon until my steady intake of caffeine forces a pee break.
As I’m returning from the bathroom, wiping my hands on my jeans due to the incompetent air dryer, I hear an unwelcome but familiar voice behind me.
“If it isn’t Katie Donovan, the femme fatale of Bates Academy.”
I turn with dread to see Spencer leaning against the men’s room door. He wears his customary grin and his hair is carefully mussed, but he actually looks tired for once. As he stifles a yawn, I notice shadows under his eyes. His cheeks look a little hollow. Maybe the last few weeks have been wearing on him, too. Maybe he’s not unbreakable.
I head back to my table and he follows me. “What are you doing on my side of town? Got another date?”
“Probably.”
I shake my head. “You’re the worst.”
“Debatable.” He takes one of my empty coffee cups and tips it over his mouth, catching two cold drops.
“Well, this has been fun, but I actually have to study, Spence.”
He slaps his phone down on the table and rests his chin on his hands. “You said you wanted to talk.”
I blink. “That was ages ago. And it ended with you throwing me out of your car.”
“And then you emailed me, and as usual, I come running like an asshole.”
I purse my lips. He’s messing with me again, and after last night, I am done with people telling me I’m crazy. “I didn’t email you.”
His cocky smile begins to fade. “You didn’t ask me to meet you?”
“No.”
He slips his phone out of his pocket, scrolls, and hands it to me. There’s an email from [email protected] asking him to meet me here, at the Cat Café, now. It’s a little flirtatious, and I blush before shoving the phone back into his hands.
“You know that’s not my email,” I say. “And you’re the only one who calls me Katie.”
His face pales. “Why would I do this?”
“To mess with my head. You hate me now. I get it.”
He looks at me sharply. “I don’t hate you.”
“Everyone else does. And they have much less reason.”
I feel like crying suddenly. Bates Academy was supposed to be the place where everything turned right side up again. And I’ve smashed it to pieces.
He scoots around the table and folds me into his arms. “No one hates you.”
“My friends do. My teammates. People I barely know.”
“Did you maybe do something to piss them off?” He presses his lips together and makes an innocent face.
I push him away. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“I understand better than anyone.”
I look him in the eye. “Have the police questioned you?”
Instead of answering, he kisses me. For a moment, I’m shocked into inaction. His lips fit mine perfectly, because they always have. His smell is comforting, cool mint and Old Spice. He doesn’t taste like cigarettes and I wonder if he was hoping for this, but the thought melts a
way as he pulls me closer, one arm fitting around my waist and the other cradling my head.
I feel heat rising in me and the urge to pull him closer makes me break away and glance around the café. It’s empty of customers, though I can hear the sound of running water and dishes clinking in the back.
“Right here, right now?” he says with a wicked grin.
I shake my head and bite my lip. I want to keep kissing him but not here. Not now. He ruins everything. That is, when I don’t do it first. “That’s not funny. You brought her here.”
“Yeah.” He pauses. “I did.” He takes a deep breath and lets it out shakily. “I should tell you something else.”
“First answer me.”
He studies my face. “No. Police haven’t questioned me.”
An icy feeling creeps over me like frost. “You’re lying. I can tell.”
“Then why did you ask?” He gazes at me with an oddly undisturbed expression. “Why are you always testing me?”
I stand abruptly. “Because the way you lie indiscriminately makes you sound like a sociopath, Spencer. Did Brie even set you up with Jessica?”
For a moment a spark of hope ignites in my chest.
But he scrolls through his phone and shows me a series of texts from Brie describing Jessica, asking if he’s interested, telling him to go for it.
“Now do you believe me?”
Maddy walks in just as I’m storming out, and she freezes in the doorway. “Kay?”
I push past her into the street, ignoring her as she calls my name, sounding more and more upset. I can’t take one more second of drama. Last night exceeded my limit.
* * *
• • •
I KICK MY door open and dump my backpack on the floor. I need to clear my head. I down an entire bottle of water and brush my hair out, counting the strokes, then attempt to do my English reading for Tuesday—more Othello, some ravings about a handkerchief. I can’t focus.
