One of Us Is Lying

by Karen M. McManus

  There’s footage of Mikhail and his team in Bayview, but he does most of his reporting from behind a sleek chrome desk in his Los Angeles studio. He has smooth dark skin and hair, expressive eyes, and the most perfectly fitted wardrobe I’ve ever seen. I have no doubt that if he’d managed to catch me alone, I’d have spilled all sorts of things I shouldn’t.

  “But who are the Bayview Four?” Mikhail asks, staring intently into the camera.

  “You guys have a name,” Maeve whispers, but not quietly enough that Mom doesn’t hear.

  “Maeve, there is nothing funny about this,” she says tightly as the camera cuts to video of my parents’ offices.

  Oh no. They’re starting with me.

  Honor student Bronwyn Rojas comes from a high-achieving family traumatized by their youngest child’s lingering illness. Did the pressure to measure up compel her to cheat and take Yale out of her reach forever? Followed by a spokesperson from Yale confirming that I have not, in fact, applied yet.

  We all get our turn. Mikhail examines Addy’s beauty pageant past, speaks with baseball analysts about the prevalence of high school juicing and its potential impact on Cooper’s career, and digs through the particulars of Nate’s drug bust and probation sentence.

  “It’s not fair,” Maeve breathes into my ear. “They’re not saying anything about how his dad’s a drunk and his mom’s dead. Where’s the context?”

  “He wouldn’t want that, anyway,” I whisper back.

  I cringe my way through the show until an interview with a lawyer from Until Proven. Since none of our lawyers agreed to talk, Mikhail’s team tapped Until Proven as subject-matter experts. The lawyer they speak with, Eli Kleinfelter, doesn’t look even ten years older than me. He has wild curly hair, a sparse goatee, and intense dark eyes.

  “Here’s what I’d say, if I were their lawyer,” he says, and I lean forward despite myself. “All the attention’s on these four kids. They’re getting dragged through the mud with no evidence tying them to any crime after weeks of investigation. But there was a fifth kid in the room, wasn’t there? And he seems like the type who might’ve had more than four enemies. So you tell me. Who else had a motive? What story’s not being told? That’s where I’d be looking.”

  “Exactly,” Maeve says, drawing out each syllable.

  “And you can’t assume Simon was the only person with access to the About That admin panel,” Eli continues. “Anybody could’ve gotten into that before he died and either viewed or changed those posts.”

  I look at Maeve, but this time she doesn’t say anything. Just stares at the screen with a half smile on her face.

  I can’t stop thinking about Eli’s words for the rest of the night. Even when I’m on the phone with Nate, half watching Battle Royale, which is better than a lot of the movies Nate likes. But between Mikhail Powers Investigates and our trip to the mall on Monday—which I’ve been thinking about nonstop in those spare moments when I’m not thinking about going to jail—I can’t concentrate. Too many other thoughts compete for brain space.

  Nate was about to kiss me, wasn’t he? And I wanted him to. So why didn’t we?

  Eli finally said it. Why isn’t anyone looking at other suspects?

  I wonder if Nate and I are officially friend-zoned now.

  Mikhail Powers does serial investigations, so this will only get worse.

  Nate and I would be horrible together anyway. Probably.

  Did People magazine seriously just email me?

  “What’s going on in that big brain of yours, Bronwyn?” Nate finally asks.

  Too much, and most of it I probably shouldn’t share. “I want to talk to Eli Kleinfelter,” I say. “Not about you,” I add when Nate doesn’t reply. “Just in general. I’m intrigued by how he thinks.”

  “You already have a lawyer. Think she’d want you getting a second opinion?”

  I know she wouldn’t. Robin is all about containment and defense. Don’t give anybody anything they can use against you. “I don’t want him to represent me or anything. I just want a conversation. Maybe I’ll try to call him next week.”

  “You never shut off, do you?”

  It doesn’t sound like a compliment. “No,” I admit, wondering if I’ve killed whatever weird attraction Nate might’ve once felt toward me.

  Nate’s silent as we watch Shogo fake Shuya’s and Noriko’s deaths. “This isn’t bad,” he finally says. “But you still owe me finishing Ringu in person.”

  Tiny electrical sparks zip through my bloodstream. Attraction not dead, then? Maybe on life support. “I know. That’s logistically challenging, though. Especially now that we’re notorious.”

  “There aren’t any news vans here now.”

  I’ve thought about this. Maybe a few dozen times since he first asked me. And while I don’t understand much about what’s going on between Nate and me, I do know this: whatever happens next won’t involve me driving to his house in the middle of the night. I start to tell him all my excellent practical reasons, like how the Volvo’s noisy engine will wake my parents, when he says, “I could come get you.”

  I blow out a sigh and stare at the ceiling. I’m no good at navigating these situations, probably because they’ve only ever happened in my head. “I feel weird going to your house at one in the morning, Nate. Like, it’s…different from watching a movie. And I don’t know you well enough to, um, not watch a movie with you.” Oh God. This is why people shouldn’t wait until their senior year of high school to date. My whole face burns, and as I wait for him to answer, I’m deeply thankful he can’t see me.

  “Bronwyn.” Nate’s voice isn’t as mocking as I’d expected. “I’m not trying to not-watch a movie with you. I mean, sure, if you were into that, I wouldn’t say no. Believe me. But the main reason I invited you over after midnight is that my house sucks during the day. For one thing, you can see it. Which I don’t recommend. For another, my dad’s around. I’d rather you not…you know. Trip over him.”

  My heart keeps missing beats. “I don’t care about that.”

  “I do.”

  “Okay.” I don’t fully understand Nate’s rules for managing his world, but for once I’m going to mind my own business and not give my opinion about what does and doesn’t matter. “We’ll figure something else out.”

  Cooper

  Saturday, October 13, 4:35 p.m.

  There’s no good place to break up with someone, but at least their living room is private and they don’t have to go anywhere afterward. So that’s where I give Keely the news.

  It’s not because of what Nonny said. It’s been coming for a while. Keely’s great in a dozen different ways but not for me, and I can’t drag her through all this knowing that.

  Keely wants an explanation, and I don’t have a good one. “If it’s because of the investigation, I don’t care!” she says tearfully. “I’m behind you no matter what.”

  “It’s not that,” I tell her. It’s not only that, anyway.

  “And I don’t believe a word of that awful Tumblr.”

  “I know, Keely. I appreciate that, I really do.” There was another post this morning, crowing about the media coverage:

  The Mikhail Powers Investigates site has thousands of comments about the Bayview Four. (Kind of a dull name, by the way. Would’ve expected better from a top-ranked newsmagazine.) Some call for jail time. Some rail about how spoiled and entitled kids are today, and how this is another example of that.

  It’s a great story: four good-looking, high-profile students all being investigated for murder. And nobody’s what they seem.

  The pressure’s on now, Bayview Police. Maybe you should be looking a little closer at Simon’s old entries. You might find some interesting hints about the Bayview Four.

  Just saying.

  That last part made my blood run cold. Simon had never written about me before, but I don’t like the implication. Or the sick, heavy feeling that something else is coming. And soon.

  “Then why
are you doing this?” Keely has her head in her hands, tears running down her face. She’s a pretty crier; nothing red or splotchy about her. She peers at me with swimming dark eyes. “Did Vanessa say something?”

  “Did—what? Vanessa? What would she say?”

  “She’s being a bitch about me still talking to Addy and she was going to tell you something you shouldn’t even care about, because it happened before we were dating.” She looks at me expectantly, and my blank expression seems to make her mad. “Or maybe you should care, so you’d care about something related to me. You’re so holier-than-thou about how Jake is acting, Cooper, but at least he has emotions. He’s not a robot. It’s normal to be jealous when the girl you care about is with someone else.”

  “I know.”

  Keely waits a beat before giving a sarcastic little laugh. “That’s it, huh? You’re not even a little bit curious. You’re not worried about me, or protective of me. You just don’t give a shit.”

  We’re at the point where nothing I say will be right. “I’m sorry, Keely.”

  “I hooked up with Nate,” she says abruptly, eyes locked on mine. And I have to admit, that surprises me. “At Luis’s party the last night of junior year. Simon was following me around all night and I was sick of it. Nate showed up and I figured, what the hell. He’s hot, right? Even if he is a total degenerate.” She smirks at me, a trace of bitterness in her face. “We just kissed, mostly. That night. Then you asked me out a few weeks later.” She gives me that intense look again, and I’m not sure what she’s trying to get across.

  “So you were with me and Nate at the same time?”

  “Would that bother you?”

  She wants something from me out of this conversation. I wish I could figure it out and let her have it, because I know I haven’t been fair to her. Her dark eyes are fastened on mine, her cheeks flushed, her lips slightly parted. She really is beautiful, and if I told her I’d made a mistake, she’d take me back and I’d keep being the most envied guy at Bayview. “I guess I wouldn’t like it—” I start, but she interrupts me with a half laugh, half sob.

  “Oh my God, Cooper. Your face. You seriously could not care less. Well, for the record, I stopped doing anything with Nate as soon as you asked me out.” She’s crying again, and I feel like the world’s biggest jerk. “You know, Simon would’ve given anything if I’d chosen him. You didn’t even know it was a choice. People always pick you, don’t they? They always picked me, too. Until you came along and made me feel invisible.”

  “Keely, I never meant—”

  She’s not listening to me anymore. “You’ve never cared, have you? You just wanted the right accessory for scouting season.”

  “That’s not fair—”

  “It’s all a big lie, isn’t it, Cooper? Me, your fastball—”

  “I’ve never used steroids,” I interrupt, suddenly angry.

  Keely gives another strangled laugh. “Well, at least you’re passionate about something.”

  “I’m gonna go.” I stand abruptly, adrenaline coursing through me as I stalk out her door before I say something I shouldn’t. I got tested after Simon’s accusations came to light, and I was clean. And I was tested once over the summer as part of an extensive physical the UCSD sports medicine center did before putting together my training regimen. But that’s it, and since plenty of steroids disappear from your system within weeks, I can’t escape the taint entirely. I’ve told Coach Ruffalo there’s no truth to the accusations, and so far he’s sitting tight on contacting any colleges. We’re part of the news cycle now, though, so things won’t stay quiet for long.

  And Keely’s right—I’ve been a lot more worried about that than about our relationship. I owe her a better apology than the one I just half-assed. But I don’t know how to give it.

  Addy

  Monday, October 15, 12:15 p.m.

  Sexism is alive and well in true-crime coverage, because Bronwyn and I aren’t nearly as popular with the general public as Cooper and Nate. Especially Nate. All the tween girls posting about us on social media love him. They couldn’t care less that he’s a convicted drug dealer, because he’s got dreamy eyes.

  Same goes for school. Bronwyn and I are pariahs—other than her friends, her sister, and Janae, hardly anyone talks to us. They just whisper behind our backs. But Cooper’s as golden as ever. And Nate—well, it’s not like Nate was ever popular, exactly. He’s never seemed to care what people think, though, and he still doesn’t.

  “Seriously, Addy, stop pulling that stuff up. I don’t want to see it.”

  Bronwyn rolls her eyes at me, but she doesn’t really look mad. I guess we’re almost friends now, or as friendly as you can get when you’re not one hundred percent sure the other person isn’t framing you for murder.

  She won’t play along with my obsessive need to track our news stories, though. And I don’t show her everything, especially not the horrible commenters tossing racial slurs at her family. That’s an extra layer of suck she doesn’t need. Instead, I show Janae one of the more positive articles I’ve found. “Look. The most-shared article on BuzzFeed is Cooper leaving the gym.”

  Janae looks awful. She’s lost more weight since I first ran into her in the bathroom, and she’s jumpier than ever. I’m not sure why she eats lunch with us, since most of the time she doesn’t say a word. But she glances gamely at my phone. “It’s a good picture of him, I guess.”

  Kate shoots me a severe look. “Would you put that away?” I do, but in my head I’m giving her the finger the whole time. Yumiko’s all right, but Kate almost makes me miss Vanessa.

  No. That’s a complete and utter lie. I hate Vanessa. Hate how she’s mean-girled her way into the center of my former group and how she’s glommed on to Jake like they’re a couple. Even though I don’t see much interest on his part. Chopping my hair off was like giving up on Jake, since he wouldn’t have noticed me three years ago without it. But just because I’ve abandoned hope doesn’t mean I’ve stopped paying attention.

  After lunch I head for earth science, settling myself on a bench next to a lab partner who barely glances in my direction. “Don’t get too comfortable,” Ms. Mara warns. “We’re mixing things up today. You’ve all been with your partners for a while, so let’s rotate.” She gives us complicated directions—some people move left, others right, and the rest of us stay still—and I don’t pay much attention to the process until I wind up next to TJ.

  His nose looks a lot better, but I doubt it’ll ever be straight again. He gives me a sheepish half smile as he pulls the tray of rocks in front of us closer. “Sorry. This is probably your worst nightmare, right?”

  Don’t flatter yourself, TJ, I think. He’s got nothing on my nightmares. All those months of angsty guilt about sleeping with him in his beach house seem like they happened in another lifetime. “It’s fine.”

  We classify rocks in silence until TJ says, “I like your hair.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.” With the possible exception of Ashton, who’s biased, nobody likes my hair. My mother is appalled. My former friends laughed openly when they saw me the next day. Even Keely smirked. She’s moved right on to Luis, like if she can’t have Cooper, she’ll settle for his catcher instead. Luis dumped Olivia for her, but nobody blinked an eye about that.

  “I’m serious. You can finally see your face. You look like a blond Emma Watson.”

  That’s false. But nice of him to say, I guess. I hold a rock between my thumb and forefinger and squint at it. “What do you think? Igneous or sedimentary?”

  TJ shrugs. “I can’t tell the difference.”

  I take a guess and sort the rock into the igneous pile. “TJ, if I can manage to care about rocks, I’m pretty sure you can put in more of an effort.”

  He blinks at me in surprise, then grins. “There you are.”

  “What?”

  Everyone seems absorbed in their rocks, but he lowers his voice anyway. “You were really funny when we—um, that first time we hung
out. On the beach. But whenever I saw you after that you were so…passive. Always agreeing with whatever Jake said.”

  I glower at the tray in front of me. “That’s a rude thing to say.”

  TJ’s voice is mild. “Sorry. But I could never figure out why you’d fade into the background that way. You were a lot of fun.” He catches my glare and adds hastily, “Not like that. Or, well, yes, like that, but also…You know what? Never mind. I’ll stop talking now.”

  “Great idea,” I mutter, scooping up a handful of rocks and dumping them in front of him. “Sort these, would you?”

  It’s not that TJ’s “fade into the background” comment stings. I know it’s true. I can’t wrap my head around the rest, though. Nobody’s ever said I’m funny before. Or fun. I always figured TJ was still talking to me because he wouldn’t mind getting me alone again. I never thought he might’ve actually enjoyed hanging out during the nonphysical part of the day.

  We finish the rest of the class in silence except to agree or disagree on rock classification, and when the bell rings I grab my backpack and head for the hall without a backward look.

  Until the voice behind me stops me like I’ve slammed into an invisible wall. “Addy.”

  My shoulders tense as I turn. I haven’t tried talking to Jake since he blew me off at his locker, and I’m afraid of what he’s going to say to me now.

  “How’ve you been?” he asks.

  I almost laugh. “Oh, you know. Not good.”

  I can’t read Jake’s expression. He doesn’t look mad, but he’s not smiling either. He seems different somehow. Older? Not exactly, but…less boyish, maybe. He’s been staring right through me for almost two weeks, and I don’t understand why I’m suddenly visible again. “Things must be getting intense,” he says. “Cooper’s totally clammed up. Do you—” He hesitates, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Do you want to talk sometime?”