by E. E. Cooper
I felt bad for my parents. I imagined both of them scrambling to get out of work, asking other people to cover for them, calling each other on their cells trying to figure out what the hell was going on. I didn’t think our family had a lawyer, and it didn’t seem like the kind of thing you could just Google and expect to get anyone decent and available on a moment’s notice. I thought about texting them, but I had no idea what I would even say.
But there was someone I wanted to text. Let her sweat for a change.
Your secret is out.
Brit texted back almost immediately.
What r u talking about?
I confessed, I typed. Told them we did it together.
Brit didn’t respond. She must be freaking out. It never occurred to her that I was capable of this kind of sacrifice. She’d put together what this confession would mean. She’d mentally race through everything, trying to figure out what people would think, what might trip her up. Relief flooded through my system; whatever happened, at least it was underway. I smiled and then caught the secretary staring at me, her eyes wide. She looked ready to fend me off armed only with her keyboard.
Someone slapped the glass behind me and I jolted in my seat. Brit was standing outside the office looking in. Her neck was mottled and blotchy. She was breathing hard, like she had run down to the office. She jerked her head to the side, indicating that she wanted me to join her in the hall.
I turned away like I hadn’t seen her. I wasn’t doing what she told me to anymore.
She stood out in the hallway for what felt like forever, but she must have realized I wasn’t going to give in. Brit yanked the heavy glass office door open. The secretary stood. “Britney, now isn’t a good time for you to be here.”
Brit ignored her, barreling her way over to me. “What are you doing?”
“I told you. I’m confessing.” I smiled up at her. “I can’t live with the guilt anymore.”
“You can’t do this,” she hissed. She was almost vibrating with energy, twitching with anger.
“But I already have.”
The secretary touched Britney’s elbow. “Sweetie, you need to go back to your class.”
Brit yanked her arm back. “Don’t touch me!”
The secretary jerked back as if Brit had spit in her face. She looked back and forth between the two of us and hustled off to get Mr. Hamstead.
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, but they’ll send you to jail,” Brit said.
I nodded. “Maybe. Of course, I’m only seventeen, so there’s a chance I’ll go to juvie.” I tapped my chin as if I’d just recalled something. “You’re eighteen, though, right? Legally an adult.”
Brit grabbed me by the shoulders. I could feel her shaking. “You’re crazy.”
I nodded. “Probably.”
Brit seemed offended by my calm. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”
“I think so.” I smiled. “I’m guessing the media is going to be pretty interested in this story again. Maybe more interested than they were when you came back. Murder is way more fascinating than an accident. Guess who’s going to get a book deal now?”
“What’s going on here?” Officer Siegel and another officer were standing in the doorway. Hamstead had called them when he’d called my parents.
“I came to confess, I guess for both of us.” I winked at Brit. “We did it together. Besties.”
“Did what?” Officer Siegel said.
“Murdered Beth,” I said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Brit shook her head, like a dog shaking off water. “She’s really sick. Everyone knows this. People shouldn’t be listening to her.”
I ignored Brit. “We thought she was messing around with Britney’s boyfriend, Jason,” I explained. “It turns out it was Sara, but we didn’t know that then. We thought Beth betrayed her.”
“Kalah, you shouldn’t say anything else until your parents get here,” Ms. Harding said. Her hands twisted together.
I pressed on. This was it. I had to get it out now, before anyone tried to silence me. I needed everyone to hear me. To hear Brit was involved so they would have to take action. “We didn’t mean to kill her. We just wanted to teach her a lesson. Beth was the leader of our group, but that didn’t mean she could walk over us—”
“Beth was not the leader,” Brit said.
“We told Beth to come to Brit’s house—”
“Shut your mouth,” Brit said.
“Brit confronted her, but it turned into a fight,” I continued. I had everyone’s rapt attention now. “Beth fell and hit her head. She was dead.” I looked down and shook my head like I still couldn’t believe how quickly it had gone wrong. “That’s when we came up with the idea. We’d get rid of her body and convince everyone that Beth had just taken off. She always talked about it, so people wouldn’t be that surprised. We had her phone, so we could send some messages, make our story seem real.”
“Oh my god.” The secretary covered her mouth with her hands.
“Which one of you came up with this plan?” Officer Siegel said. Everyone was staring at me, and I could feel the power shift in the room. Adults are always a bit frightened of teens. That’s why they put in so many rules; they want to control us, to feel as if they’re in charge. They were repulsed, but there was also something like admiration in their eyes. Brit saw it too, and she resented that they were looking at me that way.
“I did,” I said.
Brit’s eyelid twitched. “You can’t possibly think she’s telling the truth.”
“I’m Brit’s best friend. I didn’t want her to go to jail.”
Brit’s skin was blotchy. “I can explain everything.” She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her ability to spin lie after lie seemed to have dried up.
“There’s no point in keeping it a secret. They’re going to find everything, you know. Once they search the basement,” I said.
Ms. Harding sucked in her breath, horrified. “What did you girls do to that sweet angel?”
“Beth wasn’t an angel,” Brit snapped. Her hands ran down her side as if tucking everything into place, but her hands were shaking. “Kalah’s confused.”
“Not anymore,” I said, cutting her off.
“Oh, Kalah, what have you done?” Ms. Harding said.
“Please. Kalah doesn’t have what it takes to pull something like this off,” Brit said.
“Once the press hears about this—” Mr. Hamstead said, shaking his head slowly.
Brit’s eyelid began twitching again.
“I’m guessing it will make what happened earlier seem like no big deal.” I tried to make my voice sound resigned, but enjoyed digging at Brit. Not only would I try and take her down with me, but I planned to take the attention away from her. I wasn’t sure what she would hate more.
Siegel snorted. “That’s an understatement.”
I shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”
“You can’t believe she did this,” Brit said. “She can’t even lead the freaking field hockey team without me to hold her hand. Do you have any idea what was involved? In making all of you think I was dead? In coming up with a plan to come back? That takes fucking genius. That’s not Kalah—I’m the only one who could pull this off.” Brit looked around the room as if she expected people to applaud and then a split second later realized what she’d said.
A jolt of excitement ran down my spine. Brit had screwed up. I glanced around the room to make sure they’d all understood what she said. What it meant.
“You didn’t have anything to do with this, did you?” Officer Siegel said to me.
“Then why did she confess?” The secretary was looking back and forth between Britney and me, her nose twitching double time.
“You hoped to get her to take credit.” Officer Siegel was looking at me with a mix of respect and surprise.
My legs felt shaky, as if I’d just gotten out of bed after having had the flu for weeks. “I didn’t exp
ect her to confess,” I admitted. “I just wanted her to be in trouble too. I wanted to piss her off.”
“I didn’t know what you were talking about,” Brit said, her voice rising. “I didn’t mean anything I said.”
“Let’s go down to the police station and talk about it,” Officer Siegel said. “It should be simple enough to check out both of your stories.”
“Whatever that bitch tells you is a lie.” Brit pointed at me. “She’s obsessed with me. My parents wanted to file a restraining order. She attacked me just last week!”
“We’ll evaluate what Kalah tells us and the evidence,” Officer Siegel said.
“She did it!” Brit yelled out, pointing at me. Her finger was shaking. “She killed Beth the night of her birthday because Beth didn’t want to date her.” She was practically panting. “I was scared of her. I didn’t know what to do. Ask my psychologist: she’ll tell you.”
“Scared?” Ms. Harding said.
“Yes. I thought if I didn’t support her she might hurt me too.” Brit’s words were picking up speed as she spun her story.
“But Kalah spent the night of Beth’s birthday at her boyfriend, Zach’s, house,” Mr. Hamstead said. “You both came to my office after Beth disappeared and told me that.”
Brit blinked. Her story was unraveling. Too many loose ends. “Kalah lied,” she said.
“We’ll check everything out,” Siegel said. “Kalah’s alibi for that night and yours. Should be easy enough to clear up. Now let’s get going.”
When Officer Siegel reached for her, Brit skittered back. “I’m not going anywhere with you. This is some kind of mistake.” She patted her hair into place, but I could see her hands were shaking even harder now.
There was a hum of whispering from up and down the hall. Class had ended and the news of cops and yelling in the office was too irresistible to ignore. Ms. Eisberg, the English teacher, was trying to herd people down the hall, but no one was moving.
“You need to come with us, Miss Matson,” the other officer said. “We can talk about this down at the station. If there’s nothing to her story, then you’ll be on your way.”
Brit looked down her nose like he was some kind of simpleton. “Are you deaf? I told you I’m not going anywhere.” It was over. She was caught and she knew it.
Officer Siegel spun Brit around by her shoulder so they were facing. “Then we’ll do this the hard way. Britney Matson, you are under arrest for the murder of Beth Taylor. You have a right to remain—”
Officer Siegel’s voice kept going, but I couldn’t hear it over the keening noise Brit made. It was like a howl. Officer Siegel clicked the handcuffs over Britney’s wrists. She sank to the floor like every bone in her body had liquefied. The buzz in the hall increased.
Under arrest.
Under arrest.
Under arrest.
I stood straighter, like a sentinel or honor guard. I didn’t want to miss a second of this. People’s voices were speeding up as news of what was happening spread down the hall. This was an exam week that no one would ever forget.
“Let’s go,” Officer Siegel said. Mr. Hamstead was standing in the hall, wringing his hands. I could see panic in Ms. Harding’s face. “Kalah, you aren’t free to go. I can’t take you together, but you’ll need to make a statement too. I’ll send another car to bring you and your parents.”
I nodded to show I understood.
Officer Siegel pulled Britney up from the floor; her hands were locked in front of her as if she were praying. Brit was crying. There was a thick smear of snot under her nose.
“You did this,” she spit at me. “You cannot ruin my life. I won’t let you.”
The other officer walked in front and Officer Siegel with Brit behind him. It was like a military formation, except that Britney kept dragging her feet and had to be pulled along. The people in the hall backed up to let them pass. A few whipped out their phones to get a picture.
“I wish we’d never become friends.” Spit was flying from Brit’s mouth, and her entire body shook as if she were falling apart.
Officer Siegel yanked on her arm to move her forward. I wanted to speak. I’d imagined this moment for so long, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say.
Brit reached up with her handcuffed hands and pulled something from her neck, hurling it at my face. I flinched as it struck my cheek with a sharp sting. I looked down and saw Beth’s blue enamel teacup spinning in a circle on the floor.
“Okay, that’s enough. We’re out of here.” Officer Siegel said grabbing Brit around the waist and bodily dragging her down the hall.
“I’ll get you for this, Kalah Richards. If you think what happened to Beth was bad, you have no idea what I’m capable of doing,” Brit screamed over her shoulder. The door clanged shut behind them, and it was suddenly totally silent in the hall.
The people outside the classrooms stood there with their mouths hanging open. Brit’s final performance at Northside had been a showstopper. My breath came slow and shallow. I felt sick, as if I’d swallowed a gallon of acid.
Mr. Hamstead seemed to suddenly come to and remember he was in charge. “Okay, people, let’s move along.”
“Holy shit,” someone said, putting into words what everyone was thinking.
Teachers began to direct people back into rooms as they stared at me in disbelief. Sara stepped out from the crowd. She and I stood a few feet apart. It seemed to me she was standing straighter. We locked eyes and after a moment she nodded, as if she understood what I wanted to say. She bent down and scooped up Beth’s pendant, handing it to me. My hand closed around it.
“Thank you,” she said softly, and then moved off, her friends rushing to her side.
Ms. Harding approached. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. I looked down at the tiny enamel teacup. I blinked and pictured Beth lifting her hair from her neck so I could slip the two pendants onto the chain. I knew it was impossible, but for a split second I could smell Beth’s rosemary-and-mint shampoo. It filled my senses.
Ms. Harding patted my arm. “Your parents should be here any minute.”
“They arrested Brit,” I said. I let the words roll around in my mouth as if I was trying to taste them.
“Yes, it appears so.” Ms. Harding stared at the closed front door as if she was trying to catch up to reality.
“I didn’t know how else to prove it,” I said. “I had to confess so people would investigate. I never would have hurt Beth.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Maybe you shouldn’t say anything else, honey.” Her hands kept fluttering around as if she were going to knit a new reality out of the air around us. I let her lead me back down toward her office. I felt dizzy, as if I needed to touch the wall to keep from falling over.
“We’ll update your parents on what just happened as soon as they get here,” Ms. Harding said. She squeezed my hand.
“Okay,” I mumbled. My voice sounded faraway, as if someone else were speaking.
I tuned out Ms. Harding. It had finally happened. They’d arrested Brit. They knew she murdered Beth. I kept waiting for this wave of relief, but it didn’t happen. All I heard was the echo of Brit’s voice.
I’ll get you.
I whipped around, half expecting to see Brit lunging for me, her hands out like claws, her lips pulled up in a snarl, but the hall was empty.
Things went quickly after my parents arrived. I couldn’t stop shaking. A rushed consultation between Mr. Hamstead, Ms. Harding, and a few of my teachers resulted in the plan that my grades would be based on what I had achieved already in the semester. The same for Brit. Our school year was over.
My mom had ahold of my hand and wouldn’t let go. I could tell she and my dad had a thousand questions for me but didn’t want to ask them now. We had to go directly to the police station from there. There was no point in telling the whole story twice. I wasn’t under arrest, at least not yet. My parents had arrived at the school just as Brit was being dragged out. Fo
r a second before they saw her clearly, they thought that it might be me. Now they knew Brit had confessed, and they were reeling from the change in events. My dad kept shooting glances at me as if he wasn’t sure he recognized me anymore.
While everyone was still in class they sent me to get my things from my locker. I knew Mr. Hamstead and Ms. Harding wanted to talk to my parents without me around. I peeled the pictures off the inside walls. I threw most things away. I felt light-headed thinking about how I’d done this for Brit’s locker just weeks ago.
I jumped up to make sure there was nothing left inside. It seemed weird to see my locker stripped of everything that had made it mine. Next year it would be assigned to someone else. Maybe it would develop into an urban legend. The locker that used to belong to someone crazy. The best friend of the murderer. The girlfriend of the dead girl. The story would be if you hung a mirror inside and said my name three times in a row you would see something that drove you mad too. The idea made me smile. It was the kind of story Beth would have told and petrified a group of freshmen.
It was weird to think next year none of us would be here. I’d never come back. It had seemed like the school belonged to us, but the truth was we’d just been borrowing it. In a few more years there wouldn’t be anyone who even remembered us. Our names would still be engraved on various trophies in the case outside the gym, our yearbooks would be dusty on some shelf, but no one would even give us the tiniest thought. Just in the same way that I never paused to think about what had happened to the people in the black-and-white photos that lined some of the halls. They were just ghosts. Dead and gone. I couldn’t decide if that made me feel better or worse.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
It was late by the time we left the police station, but still earlier than I’d suspected. I’d lost track of time in the interrogation room. There had been endless questions. Why did I confess if I hadn’t done it? What did I know? When did I suspect Britney? They asked the same questions in different ways, hoping to trip me up. There are some advantages of finally telling the truth—it’s easy to remember. They weren’t a hundred percent certain, but I could tell they believed me.
