“Heyyy,” Jules says, her eyes flicking toward the graffiti. She doesn’t look surprised. I’d love to think she’s the one who halfheartedly crossed it out, because at least that would mean she still cares a little bit about me. But it’s just as likely that she wrote it in the first place, considering how far up Sean’s ass she is now. She’ll even lie for him—something I’d never have believed possible if I hadn’t seen the video with my own eyes.
I toss my wet paper towel in the wastebasket. “How’s Sean?”
Her mouth purses as she pulls out a tube of lip gloss and unscrews the top. “Don’t pretend you care.”
Watching her outline a perfect pout makes me acutely aware of my own dry lips. I pull a tube of Burt’s Bees lip balm from my bag, grimacing when I realize it’s coconut flavored. My least favorite. I swipe it across my mouth anyway. “He must miss Brandon, though.”
Jules’s eyes go flat as they meet mine in the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I shrug. “Nothing. I just feel bad for him.” Even to my own ears, the words sound fake. Sean hasn’t been acting like someone who lost his best friend. If anything, he’s swaggering around Bayview High more than ever.
Do you think there’s any possibility that somebody wanted Brandon to get hurt?
Knox asked that, and I brushed it off as too ridiculous to even consider. Still, Sean was standing right next to Brandon when he died, egging him on. Sean sounded shocked and terrified in that video, but let’s face it—he’s proved since then that he can play a part when he has to.
I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, and tug on my ponytail to tighten it. “Pretty scary to know it could have been any one of you, huh?” I ask.
“What?” Jules blinks at me, confused.
“Any one of you could have fallen through that landing. Since you were all going to take the same shortcut.”
Jules’s face is blank for a few seconds too long. She’s not a particularly good liar once you know to look for it. “Oh yeah,” she says finally.
“Just random chance that Brandon went first,” I add. I don’t know why I’m still talking, or what I’m hoping to get out of the conversation. Jules won’t confide in me. She picked her side a while ago. But there’s still part of me hoping to spot a crack in her armor, some sign that we could talk like we used to.
Hey, Jules, did you know that lying to the police could get you in trouble?
Don’t you think Brandon’s parents deserve to know what really happened?
Did you ever think your new boyfriend might be a sociopath?
“I don’t really like to talk about it.” Jules smacks her lips and drops the tube of gloss in her bag, then flips her hair over one shoulder and turns for the door. “I have to go. Sean and I have plans after school.”
“Me too,” I say. Her eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, I have plans too.”
Sort of. I’m working. But I’m bringing friends, so it counts.
Jules looks at me appraisingly. She knows my social options are pretty limited right now. “You and Knox?” she guesses. The disdain in her voice is clear enough that I know exactly what she’s implying.
I resist the urge to say It’s not a date. “And Maeve.”
Jules smirks and heads for the door, yanking it open. “Well, that sounds like a fun ménage à trois.”
I stomp after her, trying to marshal some kind of comeback, but as soon as she hits the hallway she’s engulfed in the octopus-like embrace of Sean Murdock. “Baby,” he growls, suctioning himself to her face. I skirt around them, my jaw clenched, suddenly wishing I’d tried to make the Nate thing happen while I had the chance.
Café Contigo is quiet for a Thursday, and by four o’clock most of the people in the restaurant are staff. Mrs. Santos, who’s making a rare appearance at the cash register, gestures me over when my only customer gets up to leave. Ahmed, the other waiter on duty, is leaning against the counter beside her, his eye on the table full of hip young Bayview moms sitting in his station with expensive strollers. They’re all wearing cute yoga clothes, their hair in carefully messy ponytails. The babies have been quiet since they arrived, but one of them has started to fuss.
“Hush, hush,” the baby’s mother says in a singsong voice, moving the stroller back and forth. “You’re okay, go back to sleep.” Ahmed looks wary, and I don’t blame him. I have five cousins under the age of three, and I know for a fact that as soon as one baby starts to cry the rest will join in solidarity.
“Why don’t you go ahead and clock out, Phoebe,” Mrs. Santos says. She’s tall and slender, with expressive dark eyes and elegant cheekbones. Luis gets his good looks from her. “Addy will be in at five, and Ahmed can handle the room until then.”
“Okay,” I say, starting to untie my apron.
Ahmed, still hovering beside Mrs. Santos with his eyes on the yoga mom table, asks, “Did you give Phoebe that thing, Mrs. S?” We both blink at him, and he clarifies, “The note?”
Mrs. Santos makes a tsk sound and shakes her head. “I completely forgot! My apologies, Phoebe. Ahmed said someone dropped this off for you earlier.” She roots under the counter and hands me a sealed envelope with my name scrawled across the front. “A young man. What did he say again, Ahmed?”
“That you were expecting it,” Ahmed says. The blondest yoga mom waves her hand to catch his attention, and he starts across the room toward her.
“Expecting what?” I ask, but he doesn’t hear me. I pull my apron off and stash it behind the counter, heading for the table where Knox, Maeve, and Luis are sitting. Luis is working, supposedly, but he’s been sitting and talking for the past hour. I could swear that every time I look over, his chair is a little closer to Maeve’s. She’s been looking especially pretty since she got her test results back, and today she’s wearing a fitted T-shirt with shimmery gold threading that brings out the honey color of her eyes. That unexpected clean bill of health has her practically glowing. Or maybe something else does.
I rip the envelope open as I walk, curious, and pull out a single sheet of paper. “Are you done for the day?” Maeve asks, but I only half hear her. My heart jumps into my throat as I read the words in front of me:
What’s with the disappearing act?
We need to talk.
Meet me at the gazebo in Callahan Park at 5:30 today.
DO NOT ignore this like you’ve been ignoring everything else.
What the hell? “Ahmed!” I call. He’s striding toward the kitchen at a rapid clip but pauses at my urgent tone.
“What?”
I wave the note. “Who left this?”
“I told you. Some guy.”
“But who?”
“He didn’t give his name. Just—a guy. He’s been here before.”
“What’s going on?” Maeve asks. I hand her the note. Her eyes scan the page and she inhales sharply. “Whoa. Who is this from?”
“I don’t know,” I say helplessly. The only person I’ve been ignoring lately is Derek, and I never imagined that actual stalking was his style. But then again, other than the most ill-advised ten minutes of my life in Jules’s laundry room during her Christmas party, it’s not like I’ve spent quality time with the guy.
I wave frantically at Ahmed, who’s trying to escape into the kitchen again. “Ahmed, wait! Could you please come here for a second?”
Maeve reads the note out loud to Luis and Knox as Ahmed approaches. Suddenly we’re all talking at once, tripping over one another. Finally Maeve raises her voice above everyone else’s. “Hang on. The guy who left this, you said he’s been here before?” She tilts her head questioningly at Ahmed, who nods. “What did he look like?”
“I don’t know. Standard white dude.” Ahmed shrugs. “Little older than you guys, maybe. Brown hair. Pale. Kinda tall.”
That’s Derek, Derek, and Derek. Which puts my mind slightly at ease. At least Derek is a known quantity, sort of.
Knox’s eyes get wide. “That sounds like … was the guy inte
nse-looking?” he asks.
Ahmed frowns. “I don’t know what that means.”
“You know—focused. Serious,” Knox says. “Like he’s got a one-track mind.”
One of the babies at the mom table starts flat-out wailing, and Ahmed tugs at his shirt collar. “Look, I have to put in their order, okay? Be back in a minute.”
He hurries away and I turn to Knox, confused. “Why are you asking that?”
“Because that description Ahmed just gave reminds me of someone I’ve seen here before.” Knox turns to Maeve and taps her arm. “You remember that guy who came in a while back? The one who was a dick to Mr. Santos and kept asking about Phoebe? The one Luis and Manny chased off?”
“I’m sorry, what?” I burst out. “When did this happen?”
“I remember,” Luis says. “It was a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?” He leans back in his chair, arms folded, and Maeve sneaks a glance at him with color rising in her cheeks. She looks like she just completely lost track of the conversation. I’m tempted to snap my fingers in her face and remind her that she’s supposed to be worrying about me right now, not staring at Luis’s admittedly nice biceps. Priorities.
“Yeah. I didn’t think much of it at the time,” Knox says, looking apologetic. “I thought it was just some jerk, but he came back a couple nights ago. Here, I mean. Ordered a coffee, sat around, then left without drinking it. I started wondering if it was maybe Derek, trying to find you because you’re ignoring his messages.”
I glare at him, hands on my hips. “Why are you just telling me this now?”
“I haven’t been thinking straight,” Knox says defensively. “I have a concussion.”
“You had a concussion. Two weeks ago.”
“The effects can linger for years,” Knox informs me. He drums his fingers on the table. “Besides, I wasn’t sure it meant anything. But do you think it might be him? Is Derek a tall, pale, brown-haired guy?”
“Yeah, he is.” I say. “I personally wouldn’t describe him as intense-looking, but to each their own, I guess.” Maeve hands the note back to me, and I stuff it into my pocket, my mind spinning. Would Derek really do this—show up at my job and leave a threatening note just because I’ve been ignoring his Instagram messages? He never acted aggressive or possessive around Emma. As far as I know, anyway.
“Who’s Derek?” Luis asks.
All I can think is thank God he’s out of the gossip loop. It gives me hope that there’s life after Bayview High that doesn’t include ongoing, detailed analysis of everybody’s worst mistakes. “Long story,” I say, “but he’s someone I’ve been blowing off lately.”
“Do you have a picture of him?” Luis asks. “We all saw the guy. We could tell you whether it’s him or not.”
“Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” Maeve asks. Luis smiles, and she gives him another lingering look that, in my opinion, answers the question.
“No,” I say. “I mean, I can look him up right now but he never posts pictures of himself …” I take out my phone, open Instagram, and pull up Derek’s profile to see if he’s updated it recently. His entire feed is still nothing but animals, food, and artsy pictures of tree branches. I show it to Knox, who makes a face.
“No selfies? What kind of weirdo is he?” Then he glances at the clock on the wall, which Mr. Santos finally fixed. “Callahan Park is in Eastland, right? We could make it there before five thirty if we leave now.”
“I’m not meeting him!” I protest, but Knox holds up a placating hand.
“I don’t mean that. But maybe we can, like, spy on him. See if it’s Derek. Then you can report him for harassment or something.” He pulls out his wallet and removes a few bills, putting them on top of the twenty that’s already on the table. “We could go to my house first and grab my binoculars so we don’t have to get close.”
“Binoculars?” I’m almost distracted for a second. “What do you have those for?”
Knox looks mildly baffled. “Doesn’t everybody have binoculars?”
“No,” Maeve and I say at the same time.
Luis’s brow furrows. “You think that’s a good idea? This guy is practically stalking you, Phoebe. Maybe you should tell the police, let them handle it.”
“But I don’t know for sure if Derek wrote the note,” I say. “His Instagram messages were a lot more polite.” I turn to Maeve. “Can you drive us?”
She twists her dark hair over one shoulder and nods. “Yeah, of course.”
“I’ll come with you,” Luis says instantly. “It’s quiet here, I can leave.”
“Okay,” I say, trying not to sound as relieved as I feel. I love Knox and Maeve, but they’re not exactly my first picks as backup if anything goes wrong. Whoever this guy is, Luis scared him off once, and I’m pretty sure he can do it again. “It’s a plan, then. Let’s do a little stalking of our own.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Maeve
Thursday, March 26
“This is pointless,” Phoebe grumbles. “I can’t see anything.”
We were over half an hour late to Callahan Park, thanks to rush hour traffic, but as soon as we pulled into a metered spot in front of the fence we spotted a lone figure sitting on the gazebo steps. It’s directly within our line of sight, but too far away to see anything clearly, even with Knox’s binoculars at full strength. Phoebe’s been fiddling with them for almost five minutes, but she still can’t make out who it is.
I turn to face her in the backseat. “Do you want to leave?”
She shakes her head vehemently. “No way. We’ve come this far, and he’s right there. I just need to get a little closer.” She peers through the window. “Hmm. Check out the climbing structure on the playground. There’s a little house on top that would be perfect. If I go in there, I could see a lot better.”
Luis frowns. “We said you’d stay in the car.”
“Look at the path to the playground, though. It has those tall bushes. He’ll never see me coming,” Phoebe insists. “Plus the play area is nice and crowded. I can get up there all stealthy-like.” She pokes Knox in the arm. “Can I have your sweatshirt?”
“Um, okay.” He removes it with a bemused expression and hands it over. Phoebe pulls the faded gray hoodie over her pink shirt and zips it up.
“This smells nice,” she says. “Did you just wash it?”
“No.” Knox looks guilty. “Not for a while, actually. Sorry.”
“Oh.” Phoebe shrugs. “Well, you smell nice, then.” She lifts the hood over her head and stuffs her bright curls beneath it. “There. Incognito. And I’m short, so I can pass for a kid.”
Luis is still frowning. “I’ll go with you,” he says, but Phoebe shakes her head.
“He’s seen you before, and you stick out too much. I’ll take Knox.”
“Sure, why not,” Knox mutters. “I am utterly unobtrusive, after all.”
I bite my lip and glance at the gazebo. The boy is pacing now, circling the small structure. “I don’t know, Phoebe. Whoever this guy is, he’s starting to freak me out. Maybe we should just leave.”
“Not without getting a look at him,” she says doggedly. “I need to know if it’s Derek.” She pops the door open and tugs at Knox’s sleeve. “Are you coming or what?”
“Obviously I am.” Knox sighs and turns to me. “Text us if he makes a move, okay?”
“He won’t. He’ll never see us coming,” Phoebe says confidently. I think she’s probably right, but my stomach still twists as she and Knox get out of the car. I lose sight of them almost immediately on the woodsy path, then catch a glimpse of them weaving through the playground.
“This is fucked up,” Luis mutters in the passenger seat beside me. “Is this what it was like last year when you and Bronwyn were following Simon’s trail?”
“Not really,” I say. “I only ever did online stuff. Bronwyn staked out a guy once, but he was harmless. He ended up helping us out, actually.” I jump at my phone vibrating with a text and look
down at it. It’s from Knox. We’re here. “They made it,” I report, and text back, Is it Derek?
She hasn’t looked yet. A lens popped out of my binoculars so we’re putting it back.
“They’re having technical difficulties with the binoculars,” I tell Luis.
He flashes a smile. “Equipment failure. Always happens at the worst possible time.”
I nod and think about making a joke back, except I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I’m alone with Luis for the first time since I yelled at him at Cooper’s game. We’ve texted back and forth since then, and he accepted my apology. But I haven’t said any of the things that I really want to say. Just like always.
“So,” I blurt out, right as he says, “Listen,” and then we both pause. “You first,” we say at the same time. Luis laughs a little, and I smile awkwardly. Then I gather up my courage and say, “No, you know what? Me first. If that’s okay.” Because if he says something I don’t want to hear, then I won’t tell him my thing. And even though my heart is practically pounding out of my chest at the thought of being fully honest with him, I still want him to know.
His eyes lock on mine, his expression unreadable. “Okay.”
Deep breath. “I wanted to talk about what I said at Cooper’s game …” I trail off and swallow, trying to loosen my throat so I can get the rest of the words out. But I’ve already started wrong, because Luis shakes his head.
“I told you, forget about that.” He brushes my arm with his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of a fading bruise. “I get it. You were in a bad place.”
“It’s not that. I mean yes, I was, but that’s not the only reason I was rude.” His hand stills but stays where it is. The heat from his skin radiating into mine is making it hard to think, but I don’t want to pull away. I just need to get a couple more sentences out. “I was, um, jealous.” I can’t look at him right now, so I stare straight ahead at my car’s control panel. “I saw you with Monica, and I got jealous because it looked like you were on a date and I—I wanted that to be me. Because I like you, Luis. I have for a while.”
One of Us Is Next Page 21