“Partying? At Goode?” Crap, Dominic. We’re going to do this now? Really?
“Ford, surely you’ve seen this. They reek of alcohol. They come to class stoned. And now we find out a student was pregnant and killed herself... Add in the bullying I’ve seen...” He holds up a hand. “Even if this is some sort of tap hazing, it’s going too far. Ford, I fear you’re going to have a major problem on your hands if you don’t crack down immediately. If the parents get wind of this, or the board—”
She drops the pencil. “Are you threatening me?”
“No. No, of course not. But I’d like permission to discipline any of the girls who break the rules.”
“You don’t need my permission, Dominic. We do discipline here. Ash has been serving detention with me all week.”
“Unsupervised detention isn’t much of a deterrent. I heard her tell Jordan all she’s done is sleep.”
Ford has had enough of this. She has bigger problems than a puritanical teacher who isn’t willing to get with the program. But she can hardly say that aloud.
“I’ll be sure she doesn’t get away with that from here on out. Melanie will stay with her. And give out all the JPs you want, Dominic. I won’t stand for the girls not showing the proper respect for their studies or their teachers. I appreciate you making me aware of this situation. The girls are given great leniency when it comes to the society taps, yes, but that doesn’t include the use of alcohol or drugs. Confiscate any you find and let me know who is responsible. If we need to do a dorm search, we can. I’ve expelled girls for less.”
Dominic seems satisfied by this show of force. “Will do. They haven’t been careless enough to flaunt it, but I’m not so far removed from my school years that I can’t see the signs.” He stands, brushing his hands down his jeans. “I should let you get back to it. Thanks for hearing me out, Dean.”
“Ford. Call me Ford.”
He smiles shyly. Ah, she has read this correctly. If she wanted to, she could lead him by the hand to the couch for a holy hallelujah with Melanie listening fervently at the door, but she doesn’t need any more complications right now.
Your mind exists in the gutter, Ford. Get it out of his pants.
When the door closes behind him, the smile drops immediately. Every fear she’s had for the term has come to fruition. Drugs. Alcohol. Pregnancy. Death. And now, eclipsing them all, the idea that one of the students has lied about her identity to gain entry to Goode.
This cannot go on. The walls of this institution are strong, but even brick and steel can crumble under appropriate pressure.
She slaps the mouse to open the browser again. Her screen is filled with the image of a dark room and a young lady with blond hair that hangs in her eyes.
Ford clicks Play, watches, listens. Hears her own voice, sees her smiling, happy face in the small corner of the screen.
“Why do you want to attend The Goode School?”
The voice sounds right, the inflections the same, though tinny through the computer’s speakers. “I have to admit, it was my parents’ idea. I’m not too keen on being stuck at an all-girls boarding school. It feels like a punishment.”
“It’s an opportunity. But I’m not here to sell you on this, Ashlyn. Your parents have arranged for your admission, yes, and yes, most of the girls who attend Goode are desperate to be here. But they can’t force you to come. I don’t want you here if your heart and soul aren’t going to be in it.”
A glance down. Ash—or whoever she is—has that same mannerism. God, it’s so damn dark. Why hadn’t she noticed how dark the room was? Is this the same girl? She just can’t tell.
She watches, oddly cheering past Ash on—pull your hair back, I think I remember you pulling your hair back, do that and I’ll be able to see your face clearly.
There, yes, she pulls her hair back over her neck, then shakes it down to cover her face again.
Ford rewinds, then stops the video at the moment Ash’s face is fully exposed.
There is no question.
The Ash at her school is not the girl from the interview.
They do have an impostor.
“Lies will flow from my lips, but there may perhaps be some truth mixed up with them; it is for you to decide whether any part of it is worth keeping.”
—Virginia Woolf, A Room of One’s Own
67
THE PHONE
Ford doesn’t panic, not yet. She is logical. Cool in the face of adversity. Nothing rattles her. She closes the program, closes the browser, logs out of her computer. Tells Melanie she’s going for a walk on the grounds, not unheard of this time of day, then heads directly upstairs to the sophomores’ hall.
Has she been snookered by a sixteen-year-old? Is there something much more nefarious going on?
Ford has every right to search a student’s room at any time. It’s in the handbook, it’s part of the Honor Code. She’s never done it before. She’s never had to. The girls police themselves and their classmates better than she ever can. An Honor Code builds trust, yes, but there’s always the bit of rivalry that means some girls are looking for reasons to rat out their frenemies. Ford has always been good at sussing out what is real and what is animus and punishes accordingly.
But now she has no choice.
Ash Carlisle, whoever the hell she is, is hiding something, and Ford must find out what it is before the girl takes down the whole school.
She’s a hacker; Medea says she has talent. She could very easily be the one who sent the email with the photos and she was simply lying about it.
That belies logic, though. Why, if she’s an impostor, would she draw any attention to herself?
Ford needs to get to the bottom of this, and for that, she needs the originals. She has to inform Tony and his niece about what she’s discovered, but she also can’t have an investigation into a student reveal her own secrets.
Ash’s room is monkish without Camille’s things cluttering it up. Ford didn’t give Ash’s lack of accoutrement any thought when she arrived last month; now it strikes her as odd. What teenager doesn’t have a thousand and one things around them? There isn’t another room on the floor she could enter and see this level of minimalism.
Which makes searching it easy.
She finds the mobile phone taped to the inside wall above the door to Ash’s closet. She gives herself a pat on the back for clear thinking. It’s where she would have hidden it if she’d been trying to make sure no one found it.
She swipes it open. The battery is almost gone, and there’s no passcode. How irresponsible, and how lucky.
The photos are easy to find, right there in the app.
That little bitch.
Ford is faced with a choice.
Take this phone into custody, drag Ash in, and find out why she has it, or delete all the photos and destroy the phone. It’s not like Ash can come to her and ask for her phone back—she’s in violation of the rules by having it. Ford should kick her out on her ear. She should kick her out regardless, though Tony might take care of that for her.
A Goode girl in handcuffs. Her mother will have her head.
Something to be avoided at all cost. The girl knows too much.
Push and pull. Push and pull.
Maybe the two of them need to have a heart-to-heart, get all this out in the open. Quid pro quo. I don’t expel your skinny ass, you don’t reveal what you know. And who the hell are you, anyway?
Ford is grasping at straws, and she knows it. Her mother wouldn’t hesitate here, she’d have already thrown Ash to the wolves. Ford should do the same. She can’t risk losing the school over a scandal, not on top of Camille’s suicide.
Tony’s worried face. He thinks Ash killed Camille, or that niece of his does and is planting that idea in his head. And now to intimate Ash had something to do with Muriel... Muriel... Ash
quit piano.
She would have to, wouldn’t she? If she wasn’t the prodigy piano player, Muriel would have known quickly. Out of practice, my ass.
But had she eliminated Muriel because she was worried about being exposed as a fraud? That would be...diabolical.
“Ash? Do you have any—oh!”
Ford whirls around to see Piper standing in the doorway. She puts her hand behind her back immediately, praying the phone hasn’t been seen.
“Dean Westhaven. Hello. I was just looking for Ash. I’m sorry to disturb you.”
And she disappears before Ford can say a word.
Damn sneaky girls. What did she see?
Ford shoves the phone in her pocket and steps into the hall. “Miss Brennan. A word, if you please?”
Piper’s tall frame stops dead. “Yes, Dean?”
“Why aren’t you in class?”
The freckles go dark with a charming blush. “I got my period. I came up for tampons but I’m out, V doesn’t have any. I was just seeing if Ash has some.”
If she’s lying, she’s a smooth operator.
Why do you assume everyone is lying? Just because you’re up to your neck in deceit doesn’t mean everyone is.
“Are the bathrooms not stocked?”
“No, Dean.”
Ford shakes her head. “I’ll see to it. Off with you, continue your search.”
Piper smiles gratefully and scoots off. The bathrooms aren’t stocked, which means the support staff isn’t on top of things. Students wandering campus, out of class, at all hours of the day. A possible impostor on the grounds. An affair with the handyman. Heavens, she’s let Goode go. Let herself go, dropped her standards.
When are you going to wrap your head around the fact that you don’t want to be here? You should find a replacement, someone who cares enough to make sure things are run properly. You obviously don’t care enough about the school’s management to be in charge.
Perhaps it is time for her to be thinking about naming a successor. But how would that look? Like she is running away the moment there’s something negative going on. Like her mother. Jude fell on her sword without a second’s thought. When asked, Jude said, “Goode is more important than any one person.”
Ford almost understands.
Resigning in protest over a forced move to coed, though, that would be a legitimate out.
No. She needs to clean up her mess, but she’s not going to run.
And she’s not going to let anything ruin her. She is going to destroy this phone. Call Alan, set up the meeting with Ash and the sheriff.
And have a word with her wayward student. It’s time she finds out exactly what Ashlyn Carr is up to. Answers must be given. By Ash, and by Rumi. He’s avoiding her, she knows it, and she needs to get him alone and find out what his relationship was with Camille.
But to do it safely, she needs privacy.
Using her own phone, she texts Rumi.
Meet me at the house. Please?
She has to wait ten minutes for the reply, but finally, finally, three dots appear.
I can’t get away until later. Is 9 okay?
Yes. Absolutely. Thank you.
Thank heavens. At the very least, she can find out what’s going on with these photos of him and Camille.
She calls Alan next, who is happy to be of service. She asks him to reach out to Tony for more details. He suggests she wait to talk with Ash until he’s present. She agrees, though she’s lying. She has to talk to Ash first.
Then she stalks to her attic garret, stares out the window onto the quad.
How is she going to approach Ash?
68
THE REALIZATION
I retreat upstairs after the trip to the mail room, the damning note clutched in my hand. After the initial shock of the words, my head has cleared. It’s strange how calm I am. The world is about to come crashing down at my feet, but my heartbeat is steady. My breath comes in regular sequence. My vision is hyper focused.
I sit on my couch in my quiet, empty room and set the note carefully on the coffee table.
This can mean only one thing. Someone knows.
But who? Who is the she in this warning? I’m surrounded by women, girls, variables of she from every corner.
Becca. Vanessa. Piper. Dean Westhaven. The cop.
Camille.
The number of she’s is astounding to think of. Any one of these girls could be about to wreck my life. Think. Who has the most to gain from seeing you exposed?
Piper isn’t capable. She’s a good girl.
Vanessa, though...
Which leads me to wonder, how long was the note in my box? While I’ve been down to the mail room several times since Becca tapped me, I haven’t checked my own box in days. Camille has been dead for four days. Was the note placed before Camille died? Or after?
She.
Becca. Camille. The dean.
Sister.
Camille’s sudden suicide.
She is going to expose you.
No. It can’t be.
I’m jumping to conclusions, I know, but I can’t help but think the absolute worst.
I heard my name that night. I’ve forgotten that small but eerie detail. I’d written it off as my imagination which was already in overdrive coupled with drugs and alcohol, but when I entered our dorm room, I thought I heard my name called.
Was it Camille, yelling for help?
Did Becca somehow find out Camille was going to share my secret and kill her to stop the rumors? Did she kill Camille to protect me?
The shirt she gave me had a tear in it. She gave it to me that night. We were apart for at least fifteen minutes. She had time to get up there. If Camille had been stashed away somewhere, it’s entirely possible.
A chill runs through me.
Did Becca push Camille? Was Camille about to expose my past and Becca took care of it for me?
Is she capable of murder?
And then I remember. Becca’s mail. I’ve forgotten to deliver Becca’s mail.
I have to go face her.
I need to think. I need to figure this out.
I have to act like nothing is wrong.
I grab the mail and sprint up the stairs. Becca isn’t in her room, and the relief is overwhelming. I set the mail on her desk and, before I am seen, slip into the stairwell and hurry back downstairs.
The notecard, folded in half, is pinned to my corkboard. It wasn’t there when I left. There is a small bird wrapped in vines etched on the front. The Ivy Bound symbol. Becca was here, I’ve just missed her. Or maybe her minions, the twins, who knows?
I take the card with a shaking hand and move into my room to read it.
9:00 p.m. Commons. Mandatory for all.
Mandatory is underlined three times. Becca has called for a meeting of the Swallows. Why?
Oh, God. Who cares. If I’m in a group, I’ll be safe. She wouldn’t dare hurt me in front of witnesses.
“Ash?”
Piper sticks her head in.
I slide a book over both notes. “What are you doing up here?”
“Same as you, I suspect. Cutting.”
O-ho, how wrong you are, little girl.
“Listen. I know things are really weird right now, but you should know the dean was in here ten minutes ago. I think she was searching your room.”
“Searching my room? For what?”
“Your phone.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“She found one in your closet. I was watching. It had tape on it. She looked at it, swiped around some, then saw me and hid it behind her back. I had to spin a quick tale about needing a tampon.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m your friend, asshole. At least
I’ve been trying to be, though you don’t make it easy.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m a little stressed out.” I’m holding a note that says my world is about to blow up. Know anything about it?
“Maybe we could talk later?” she says, hopeful.
“About?”
“What’s happening. Man, you are weird today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Um, hello? The sheriff has been here several times, the dean just searched your room. They think you did something to Camille. And there’s some rumor about you having a sister. And that you and Becca are on the outs. I just thought you might need a friendly ear, that’s all. I know you wouldn’t have hurt Camille. You’re not that kind of person.”
What kind of person am I, Piper? Do you really know me?
“Becca and I were never on the ins. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. I can’t discuss a family matter. I appreciate you letting me know about the dean, Piper. But I need to lie down now, I’m not feeling well.”
Disappointment crosses her face, but she nods. “No worries. I need to get back to class.”
She disappears, and my mind dismisses her, but not entirely.
The dean in my room. Finding a phone?
Whose phone did she find? It’s one rule I actually followed—I didn’t bring a phone. I have other ways to communicate with the outside world, I hardly need a phone. They’re too dangerous.
Then it hits me. The mobile signature on the email. She wanted me to decode where the email with the photos was sent from.
Shit. If the dean found a phone in my room, she’s going to think it came from me, that I lied and said I didn’t know who sent the email. It looks like me. It’s going to be hard as hell to deny it without exposing myself.
Who is messing with me?
And why?
69
THE INITIATION
In case the dean comes looking for me again, I slip off into the arboretum, where I plan to cool my heels under my favorite hemlock until my appointment with the Swallows. While it’s chilly out, the sun still shines, so I find a patch of warmth and close my eyes. When I wake, it’s dark. Piper and Vanessa were right when they said I’d get used to the bells—they are easy to hear from all corners of campus, so I must have slept like the dead. The stress and the late nights with Becca finally shut me down. I feel better than I have in days. I can deal with whoever is trying to spook me. I’ve dealt with worse.
Good Girls Lie Page 28