Reconstructing Amelia

by Kimberly McCreight

  She turned toward her office without waiting for a response.

  “Actually, there is one other thing, Mrs. Pearl,” Lew called after her.

  She spun back on a heel, her mouth pulled flat. “Yes, Lieutenant.”

  “The new security out front, was that in response to Amelia’s death?

  “Not in response, Lieutenant, no,” Mrs. Pearl said coolly. She could see where Lew was headed. “But as you can imagine, any child’s death, even a suicide, reminds all parents of their own children’s vulnerability. As to whether there was a stronger causal link than that, you’d have to ask the school board yourself, Lieutenant. They arranged for the new security measures.”

  “I’d be happy to speak with them,” Lew said. “I’ll just need their names.”

  Mrs. Pearl came back and picked up a school catalogue from the stack that lay on a nearby side table. She held it out to Lew.

  “Their names are right in there, at the back,” she said. “The office can help you with their phone numbers. Now, if you have further questions, I suggest you direct them to Mr. Woodhouse. And that you make an appointment.”

  As Mrs. Pearl strode away, Lew sat down and opened the school catalogue across his lap, along with his chart of the girls in Birds of a Feather. His finger traced down the list of names as his head moved back and forth. He stopped about halfway down and looked up.

  “What is it?” Kate asked.

  “One of the girls, Zadie Goodwin”—Lew handed her the list—“look at the last name of her father or, rather, her stepfather, I guess.”

  Kate took the page and scanned down the names. Zadie. Had Amelia mentioned her? Had she read her name in Amelia’s texts? Kate didn’t think so, and yet she’d heard the name somewhere before. Finally, there she was at the bottom of the list: Zadie Goodwin. Father: Frank S. Carmon.

  “That’s the name of the place where Molina went to work, isn’t it?” Kate asked. “Do you think this Frank Carmon is that Carmon? Carmon Industries?”

  “I know he is.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Frank Carmon used to be a cop,” Lew said. “He had a reputation, and not exactly a good one. Anyway, he left to start Carmon Industries more than a decade back.”

  “Do you think it’s a coincidence that that’s where Molina went to work?”

  “No,” Lew said, meeting eyes with Kate. “I don’t.”

  Kate looked back down at the chart, her eyes moving over to Zadie’s mother’s name: Adele Goodwin.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. That was where she’d heard Zadie’s name before. “Her mother came to my house. She’s the one trying to push through this suicide awareness benefit.”

  There was a click then, followed by a beep, and the door to the west wing of the school opened. A pretty woman in her late twenties with elfin bone structure and pin-straight, long blond hair leaned out. She was wearing tall leather boots and a short kind of Mod Squad dress. She leaned back against the door, holding it open, card key in one hand.

  “Ms. Baron?” she asked, smiling tentatively.

  “Yes.” Kate jumped to her feet as if she’d just been caught cheating herself.

  “I’m Liv.” The young woman held out her free hand. “I’m so sorry to leave you waiting out here. We’re still trying to get used to all these locked doors.”

  “That’s okay. This is Lieutenant Lew Thompson,” Kate said. “He’s been helping me look into Amelia’s death.”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize the police were involved again,” Liv said, looking taken aback. “Mrs. Pearl didn’t mention that.”

  “Is that okay?” Kate asked, not knowing what she’d do if Liv said no. “Do you mind if Lew comes along?”

  “Oh no, of course not,” Liv said, looking embarrassed as she reached out to shake Lew’s hand. “I was just startled, that’s all. It’s nice to meet you, Lieutenant. Please, come this way.”

  Liv’s office was a sliver of space, with only enough room for a desk, one narrow guest chair, and four stacks of books. Two unmounted shelves were leaning against one wall. Another was covered in framed photographs, neatly arranged in a pleasing, slightly off-kilter pattern. Liv was in most of them—hiking and biking, traveling—with friends, some maybe boyfriends, young men with artful sideburns and copious plaid.

  “I know. They’re too much.” Liv said, gesturing to the pictures. “The kids make fun of me. They’re always saying I’m trying to act like I’m a kid myself.” She shrugged, looking up at the pictures. “Maybe I am. But you can’t help who you are.”

  Why Amelia had liked Liv so much was already obvious.

  “No,” Kate said, “you can’t.”

  “And I’m sorry about the accommodations.” She motioned to Lew who, with no place to sit, was leaning against the wall. “Offices are given out based on seniority. As you can see from this closet I’ve been in for the past four years, there isn’t a lot of teacher turnover at Grace Hall.”

  “No, it’s fine,” Kate said. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with us.”

  “Anything I can do,” Liv said. “Amelia was one of my favorite students of all time—creative and funny, and so insightful. It was hard to keep up with her sometimes.” She laughed lightly for a second, then shook her head and frowned, as if she’d just remembered that Amelia was dead. She was teary when she looked up at Kate. “I’m sorry.” She wiped at her eyes. “I’m sure you didn’t come here for me to get upset.”

  And it was true. Liv wasn’t allowed to cry. Not when she was so young and pretty and destined to make lots of babies of her own someday. Not when the only child Kate would likely ever have was dead. As Liv sniffled loudly and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue, all Kate could do was stare at her. She closed her mouth, afraid something unfortunate might fly out. Something like: If you hadn’t turned my daughter in for cheating, none of this ever would have happened. Kate didn’t really believe that, or at least not entirely. Still, it would have felt good to say.

  “Maybe we could start first with this paper Amelia was accused of plagiarizing,” Lew said. He opened his red folder and pulled out the two papers Kate had found. “One of these papers, the one with your notations, was found in Kate’s bag. The other was on her computer.”

  Liv took the two papers and set them side by side on her desk. Her eyebrows were drawn low as she flipped through them. Her eyes were wide when she finally looked up.

  “The one with my comments is the paper I received from Amelia, the one that had the sections that were copied,” Liv said, her voice rushed and a little desperate. Like she’d been sure she was right, except now she was panicking that she wasn’t. “And I want to be clear, this wasn’t a case of overparaphrasing, or one copied sentence. I never would have turned a student like Amelia in for something like that. But most of her paper was lifted straight from an academic treatise on Virginia Woolf. I had no choice.”

  “And this other paper?” Lew asked. “You haven’t seen it before?”

  “No,” Liv said emphatically, flipping through the second paper. “I wish that I had. It looks like a good paper. I mean, I can’t tell if it’s copied just by looking at it—there are thousands of sources on Virginia Woolf. But it certainly looks original and creative, exactly the kind of thing Amelia would write.”

  “Did you actually see Amelia hand in that other paper?” Kate asked. “Is there a chance there was some kind of mix-up?”

  “Students submit all their papers online at Grace Hall,” Liv said. “They use a secure e-mail system, so I don’t see how there could have been an error.”

  “And then you print them out?” Lew asked.

  “Yes, well, actually my student assistant opens them and prints them out for me. I run the plagiarism program after I’ve read the hard copy. I’m required these days to check, but I considered it an afterthought. It never occurred to me that it would actually flag something.” Liv said. “And why wouldn’t Amelia have just said it wasn’t her paper? She refused to give me any ex
planation when I asked her about the copied sections. Believe me, I asked and asked. I practically begged her.”

  “I don’t know why Amelia didn’t explain,” Lew said. “But I think we should at least speak with your assistant.”

  “Oh, okay,” Liv said, looking nervous. “Her name is Bethany—actually, before I give you her last name, may I just check with Delia, Mrs. Pearl, first? These days, Grace Hall has such crazy restrictions about giving out student information and such draconian punishments for running afoul of them.”

  “These days?” Lew asked.

  “Let’s just say they’ve reiterated several times recently what they claim were always the policies about student confidentiality,” Liv said. “Anyway, I can’t do something that will get me fired. I complain about this office and some of the school’s rules, but I’m not ready to be a starving novelist just yet.”

  “Not a problem,” Lew handed her his card. At the same time he handed Kate the Birds of a Feather list, his finger indicating Bethany Kane’s name. “You can reach me here once you’ve spoken to Mrs. Pearl. And we’ll need you to do it quickly, for obvious reasons.”

  Bethany Kane was in the Birds of a Feather group. She’d switched Amelia’s papers online, then printed out the new one before giving it to Liv. The Birds of a Feather had set it up to make it look as if Amelia were cheating. Did it even matter anymore what had happened up there on the roof? Even if it had turned out that Amelia had jumped on her own—though that was still not what Kate believed—she knew now that her daughter had been bullied to death. The only thing Kate still didn’t know was why. Why had those girls hated Amelia so much, and so suddenly?

  “Yes.” Liv stared down at the card. “Of course, I’ll speak to her as soon as possible.”

  “Can I ask you something else?” Kate’s voice was gravelly and hoarse.

  “Of course,” Liv said.

  “We found a bunch of notes in Amelia’s drawer at home that all said ‘I hate you.’ Written by twenty-two different people,” Kate said, not wanting to say the rest, but knowing that she needed to. “And it looks like Amelia was involved with a group of girls who posted revealing pictures of themselves up on the Internet.”

  “Revealing pictures?” Liv looked as horrified as Kate felt, which was both disquieting and comforting. “Amelia? I find that so hard to believe. I mean, there are a lot of kids at Grace Hall who don’t exactly have their heads screwed on straight, but Amelia was never one of them.”

  “So you don’t have any idea what it’s about?” Kate asked. “The group online was called Birds of a Feather. It seems like they had meetings after school and things like that. Like they were in some kind of club.”

  Liv crossed her arms and looked down. She shook her head as she stared at her desk. Kate waited for her to say she had no idea.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she said instead, looking as if she was in pain.

  “You can’t?” Lew asked, sounding more annoyed than Kate had heard him before.

  “Like I said before, Grace Hall really restricts—”

  “Wait a second,” Kate said. She could feel her composure slipping through her fingers. “Amelia is dead and this—whatever it is—might have had something to do with it, and you’re telling me that you know something, but that you can’t talk about it?”

  “I’m sorry, but I’ll lose my job,” Liv said quietly. She looked again as if she might cry. “But you’re asking the right questions. I can say that much. You should keep asking them. Talk to Phillip Woodhouse. I know he would— Well, he’d want to tell you. There’s this whole thing between him and the school board and lawyers.” She shook her head and looked down. “I’m sorry, but I’ve already said more than I’m supposed to.”

  “Oh my God.” Kate stared at Liv, wide-eyed. “You’re actually serious.”

  Lew put his hand on Kate’s forearm again. It was an order. And as much as she hated it, Kate knew he was right. Getting angry with Liv wasn’t going to get them anywhere.

  “We understand,” Lew said. “We’re not trying to get anyone fired. We’ll talk with the administration, but we’ll be back afterward to ask you more questions.”

  “Yes, of course,” Liv said, looking heartbroken. “I do truly want to help, I swear.”

  “What about this school gossip blog, what was it called, grace-something?” Lew asked.

  “Yeah, gRaCeFULLY.” Liv rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Luckily, it’s stopped, at least for now.”

  “Why didn’t the administration shut it down earlier?” Lew asked.

  “They were never able to find out who was behind it. They tried to trace where the posts were coming from, but I guess whoever is doing it has covered their tracks pretty well. I had heard that they were hiring a computer security expert to help. But now that it’s down anyway, I’m not sure where that stands.” Liv’s phone pinged then with what sounded like a text. She reached for it and read. Then made an exasperated noise. “God, I’m really sorry to do this, but apparently there’s a department meeting that I completely forgot about. Is there anything else I can tell you before I rush off? I’m happy to meet again, too, if that’s helpful.”

  Liv was gathering her things—a pad of paper, her phone.

  “Did Amelia ever talk to you about a boy named Dylan?” Kate asked. It seemed like a safe question, one that she should be allowed—as a mother—to ask. “It seems like maybe he and Amelia were seeing each other.”

  Liv froze, looking from Kate to Lew and back to Kate again. She looked uncomfortable.

  “I did hear that Amelia was dating Dylan. Not from her, so I don’t know for sure that it was true or if dating is even the right word for it. Involved might be a better way of putting it,” Liv said quietly. “But Dylan Crosby is not a boy, Ms. Baron. She’s a girl.”

  Amelia

  OCTOBER 19, 9:52 PM

  DYLAN

  what’s up?

  AMELIA

  not much; what’s up with you?

  DYLAN

  bad mood

  AMELIA

  why?

  DYLAN

  idk

  AMELIA

  lets do something fun 2morrow

  DYLAN

  fun sounds good; you got ideas?

  AMELIA

  doing anything w/you would qualify

  DYLAN

  :) c/u 2morrow

  AMELIA

  ok c/u xo

  OCTOBER 19, 9:59 PM

  SYLVIA

  she’s one of the Maggies

  AMELIA

  who is?

  SYLVIA

  the girl Ian’s fucking

  AMELIA

  no way

  SYLVIA

  yeah, one of those Maggie bitches is all over him

  AMELIA

  who?

  SYLVIA

  don’t know; but I am going 2 find out.

  OCTOBER 19, 10:05 PM

  CHLOE

  party, my place, Friday night 9

  OCTOBER 19, 10:12 PM

  AMELIA

  when can I c u??? If you keep avoiding me, I’m going to start thinking you’re a serial killer or something

  BEN

  Gee, thx

  AMELIA

  I’m joking, sort of. But come on, when r u coming?

  BEN

  maybe Thursday, I’m working on it.

  AMELIA

  yeah! Now I don’t need to start blocking your calls ;)

  OCTOBER 19, 10:25 PM

  COACH BING

  correction: bus leaves for sat game at 7:30 am; NOT 8:30 am; do not B late

  OCTOBER 19, 10:32 PM

  DYLAN

  Sometimes I hate this place. Want 2 run away?

  AMELIA

  I’m in; when do we leave?

  facebook

  OCTOBER 20

  Amelia Baron

  “I thought how unpleasant it is to be locked out; and I thought how it is worse perhaps to be locked in.” Virginia Woolf
, A Room of One’s Own

  Sylvia Golde I totally mean this in the nicest way possible, but you are seriously starting to seem like a freak

  George McDonnell Starting???

  Carter Rose Dude I think that ship has sailed

  Amelia

  OCTOBER 20

  “ ‘A piece of knowledge is never false or true—but only more or less biologically and evolutionary useful. All dogmatic creeds are approximations: these approximations form a humus from which better approximations grow,’ ” Sylvia read from her philosophy textbook with dramatic flourish. “In case you were wondering who said that—”

  “I wasn’t,” I said without looking up.

  It was our free period, and we were in Grace Hall’s brand-new state-of-the-art library, complete with walls of glass, high-tech computer equipment, and old-school touches—antique light fixtures, stained glass, and rough-hewn, refurbished desks. It had been renamed the Rose Library, after the Rose family (Carter, Bennett, and Cole included), who had financed the renovations. My eyes were on my biology lab work, but I was having a hard time concentrating, even without Sylvia talking.

  I was supposed to meet Dylan after school. She’d said she had something to tell me. After her text the night before about running away together, I was pretty sure it was going to be something good. Maybe even that she was ready for us to see each other out in the open.

  “Ernst Mach, that’s who said that,” Sylvia went on because, as usual, she didn’t care if I wanted to listen or not. “And you want to know what I say? I say, Fuck you, Ernst. I don’t even think that’s English. And what kind of name is Ernst anyway? It’s, like, missing a vowel or something.”

  “Why did you take Intro to Philosophy in the first place?” I looked up at her. I was annoyed. Sometimes the stuff Sylvia did was so stupid, and she never owned any of it. “Everyone knows that’s one of the hardest classes in the whole school. No one told you to sign up for it.”

  “I like to be challenged as much as the next guy,” Sylvia said sheepishly. “You’re not the only intellectually curious person around here, you know.”