“The police didn’t even tell anyone about how the girl was staged until the newspaper received a photo taken of the crime scene and they had no choice but to comment on it,” Harry interjected.
I hunched forward, intent.
“Indeed,” Graham said, his fingers fussing with his shirtsleeves. “The newspaper said they suspected that the picture had been taken by a first responder on the scene, and that whoever had taken the photo released it once it was clear that the police weren’t being forthcoming with the town.” I could remember the EMTs and firemen and -women who arrived to check on Goldilocks. Yes, if anyone would have been outraged and shocked by the police’s apathy, it would have been a rescue worker. “The cops told everyone it was just a body dump, and then once word of the photograph and the bizarre paw prints spread, they changed their tune and floated an additional theory. She was a part of some wannabe Satanic cult of teenagers that came to Seven Hills to hump and drink on our rock. Their fun turned deadly and one of their own ended up dead before they fled town. A theory that completely disregards the fact that the girl had a massive bruise on her torso, likely from a car hitting her before she was strangled. But the police were probably aware of that fissure in their story. If you ask me, that impact bruise is the damning evidence. There was no one person or someones obsessed with the occult or our meteorite. The whole crime was spur of the moment. Not ritual at all.”
“Whatever theory the cops tried to sell,” Viv said, “they were adamant that Goldilocks either didn’t die here or the killers weren’t from here. No reason to look further. They said there were no leads so they couldn’t pursue him or them. The mayor made a speech. Remember? She was all ‘Life in Seven Hills is precious and outsiders can’t wait to ruin it.’ ”
“I remember her saying, ‘We have to stick together.’ She kept repeating it. ‘If we stick together, there’s nothing to fear,’ ” Graham mocked her robust voice.
“She came to talk to the three of us the day after we found the body,” Viv said. “The sneaky witch wanted us to keep quiet about the girl’s shirt being cut open. How she had wings. She didn’t want us to ruin their little cover-up. Maybe she thought if people knew about the wings, they’d be more frightened and doubt that it was an accidental and isolated killing. If it had something to do with the rock and the killer was in Seven Hills, couldn’t it happen again? They couldn’t let people panic thinking that.”
I winced remembering her visit. Why hadn’t Mom and Dad sent the mayor away? They should have told me, Talk about it. You’re not alone. Instead I heard, Keep it to yourself. Don’t spread rumors. In the weeks after, their fights grew more intense. Dad spent more nights at hotels. And when they weren’t fighting they sat on opposing sides of their drafting table in the office, working on architectural plans in silence.
Harry said, “It was right before Carver’s reelection. My mom volunteered to work on her campaign to meet people.”
“A murder investigation would have been bad luck for her,” I said. I avoided Mayor Carver when I saw her around town with her constant companion, a bougie golden Labradoodle that wore argyle sweaters during the winter months, but I hadn’t aligned her with Denton in my head until now.
“Yeah, especially if the police were investigating Mayor Carver’s neighbors,” Harry said. Mayor Carver lived only a couple blocks away. “With no clues, the cops probably would have had to go door-to-door asking for alibis and info,” Harry further reasoned. “It would have been our neighborhood they canvassed.”
“Parents would have freaked if they thought there was a murderer still on the loose,” Viv said, feigning a shudder.
“That’s why the police and city hall were so adamant that the perp didn’t live here. That whoever killed Goldilocks had moved on once the crime was committed, all to keep people calm,” Graham said, fist hitting his palm.
Harry was nodding. “Tourists wouldn’t care that our beach is nice or our restaurants are bomb if there was a widely publicized murder investigation.”
“Maybe people would have stopped moving here,” Viv said. “Like those families who moved into the new development Conner’s dad built a few years ago.”
“Mayor Carver, Denton, Sebastian Welsh, people who have shops and restaurants,” I said, “all had reasons to want a murder investigation shut down.”
“To never start at all,” Harry said.
We hadn’t uncovered a deeply buried secret, and yet, because we’d never talked about why the girl’s murder had gone uninvestigated, our realization became the fifth member of our group. We were quiet thinking about what it screamed.
I was a big reason we didn’t usually talk about Goldilocks. I had shut down twelve-year-old Graham when he tried to convince me to solve the case ourselves. When he had complained that I had stopped reading mysteries with him. His curiosity was a reminder of my own.
“Our next rebellion should be aimed at PC Denton and Mayor Carver,” Graham said. Aimed like you aim a weapon. “We exposed Bedford. Now we’ll expose Denton and Carver.”
“Revenge,” Viv sang, and clapped her hands.
“More like takedowns,” Graham told her.
“Can’t we give them a new lead to follow?” Harry said. “Like you tell them about going up to the tunnel, Izzie.”
Graham blustered, “Izzie’s story is too easy to dismantle. No offense, Izzie, but you were twelve and you’d just found a dead body. Who’d listen? Everything you know was told to you by a bum who attacked you.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “She wasn’t a bum.”
He implored with his hands. “Bum. Runaway. Weird girl who travels around squatting in tunnels—it’s hearsay and unreliable. A girl with a blade? The cops might even blame her.” He held a finger in the air. “There are over two hundred thousand unsolved homicides in the United States, and I read that only one in twenty cold cases result in an arrest, and only one in one hundred in a conviction. Shit odds. The Order can’t make it solvable. But we can make Carver and Denton pay for not solving it when they had a shot.”
“Uh, hello, revenge,” Viv said, waving both hands.
“How do we make Carver and Denton pay?” Harry asked.
“First we have to make them think about Goldilocks,” I said.
“We can’t off another girl to jog their memory,” Viv said.
“No. But we can copy another aspect of the crime,” Graham pointed out.
She earmuffed her hands to her ears. “I don’t even want to know what gruesomeness you’re suggesting. Not tonight. Let’s just celebrate that we’re getting revenge.”
Harry raised his water bottle to the ceiling. “To taking down Carver and Denton.”
Viv twiddled her fingers evilly together. “Revenge is ours—hers.”
“To the all-powerful Order of IV,” Graham exclaimed.
I leaped up to grab the Mistress of Rebellion and Secrets and held her high. “To rebellions and secrets and revenge and justice and cutting down all the villains in Seven Hills.”
We were four knights marching into battle against evil. It wasn’t quite justice or revenge we were after, but their unnamed stepsister. I crowned us brave.
14
It was the day after Conner had texted me the first time, and Jess chatted up Viv. We were on our usual square of grass for lunch. I brooded over the text chain I had going with Conner. Four more messages had arrived today, all of them follow-ups to the “Heard your friends had blowout on Saturday. My invite get lost?” of the day before.
Amirite you forgot to send my invite?
Okay. Don’t beg. You’re forgiven.
If I’m invited to the next blowout.
Gotta be naked though.
Harry was restless, chewing a bite of sandwich with lazy agitation. “Conner used to have his buddies hold me on the ball wall so he could hammer balls at me,” he said. “If I fought, he’d threaten to tell his dad I kicked his ass. He said if his dad thought I was beating on him, he’d kick my family o
ut and we’d be homeless.”
My hand went to my mouth. “Oh, Har.”
Graham tilted his head in a dubious manner and said, “Not homeless. Your family would have found another home.”
“My point is why would that dick expect an invite to our party?” Harry said. “Why did he slap me on the back last period and ask me what’s up?”
“I think technically it’s a naked party with Izzie he’s interested in,” Graham said. I hurled my unopened bag of pretzels at his head. He laughed as they collided with his chin.
“Conner gets invited to every party,” Viv said with a shrug.
“That, right there, that’s the attitude that creates the environment of impunity that spawns teenage tyrants like Amanda and Conner,” Graham said.
“You think you drooling over Jess sends the message that what’s hot is kindness?” I said.
“What’s hot is red lipstick,” Graham said, slyly grinning at Viv, who was reapplying gloss in her cell screen. Viv blew him a kiss. He turned to regard me steadily. “If you give less than a flying fuck about what Conner thinks of you, why don’t you tell him to shut up next time he texts you about nakedness and parties?”
I held up my cell. The screen was dark and it would have been more significant a gesture if the text that I sent in reply to Conner’s fifth message was displayed. It had been my only response.
“I think her unsubscribe was badass,” Harry said.
Graham munched on my pretzels. Harry offered me half of his cookie. I took a bite—snickerdoodle. Viv’s watchful silence made the cookie go dry. I coughed into my hand. I still hadn’t told her about homecoming. I was increasingly nauseated at the prospect.
Viv said, “Amanda and Conner have treated us like underlings for ages. I don’t see that finally having something they want is such a fail.”
“Neither do I,” Graham said. With his mouth full of pretzels, he added, “Can we talk about Denton and Carver rather than these mediocre excuses for villains now?”
I shushed him.
As if Graham had conjured them, there was Jess and Amanda. They ambled at an unhurried pace, lunch circles going quiet under their slow shadows. Just out for a stroll. But I knew they were headed to us. They dropped their backpacks upside down on the grass and sat next to us, royalty a head above the rest.
“Hi, Fantastic Four,” Amanda said with exaggerated friendliness. She was wearing a unicorn hoodie, its horn shimmery and wilting to one side. I tried sending Graham a mental message to call it a limp dick to send her scurrying away.
Viv lounged back on one elbow and lazily shielded the sun with her hand. “Hey, yourselves,” she said after a feigned yawn.
“What were you guys talking about?” Amanda asked.
“Nothing,” Harry said, as close to a snap as I’d ever heard from him. He put his headphones on.
“You looked pretty into nothing,” Amanda countered. Too late, he was bobbing his head to music.
She gave a nervous titter and looked out over the groups eating on the grass. “I get why you guys lunch here. It’s all picnic-y.”
Jess took her lollipop from its place in her cheek. “Super chill.”
“Anyways.” Amanda’s attention went to Viv. “I felt weird telling Jess to ask you about your bonfire rather than just asking myself. I thought, Vivian and I are so past all that middle school drama.”
Graham let out a bark of laughter. “Middle school? Seriously? I overheard you saying we have orgies with barnyard animals last week.”
“Hmmm,” said Amanda with a note of disbelief. “I mean, if someone said that, they probably don’t really believe you have actual sex with animals.” Her eyes lingered over Graham in a way that suggested he was the exception. Her icy blue stare returned to Viv. “My cousin is in college and she has a fake ID and people are always mistaking us for twins. I borrow her ID to buy kegs. All the time. I brought the keg last week, you know, to Slumber Fest. Anyway, I could get one for your next party. If you want people to have fun.”
Viv’s expression stayed remote. “Maybe. I’ll try to remember,” she said. I wondered at how she was hiding her satisfaction; she had finally gotten what she wanted: Amanda, sitting beside her, wanting her approval and an invitation. Normal things to want. Despite this, I frowned.
“Okay. Amazing. And congrats on getting cast as Antigone.” She waited for Viv to congratulate her back; we knew from Viv that Amanda had been cast as Antigone’s sister, Ismene. “Later,” Amanda finally said, popping up and needing to take a backstep to catch her balance. Viv’s indifference had caught her off guard.
They were about to leave when Jess, wielding the lollipop, said, “Oh, hey. I asked the others and we have two free spots in our limo.” She was looking at Viv and then her eyes cut to Graham and her smile became a touch less lifeless. “You should bring Viv to homecoming. You guys can ride with us.”
Graham balked at her, then at his palms, and finally at me. School dances were an amalgamation of many of the things Graham loathed about high school—social hierarchies, popular music, adult supervision, our classmates, and the school gym.
“Want to, Teddy Graham?” Viv asked. Still, his eyes were glued to mine. I nodded infinitesimally. No wasn’t an option. Not when a no meant humiliation for Viv.
“Fun,” Graham said flatly. Harry groaned, though he’d been pretending not to listen.
“Text you,” Jess said, and Viv gave a blasé shrug.
I wrapped up the rest of my chicken sandwich. I’d lost my appetite. What had just happened? First Conner’s texts. Second Amanda and Jess being civil, friendly, to Viv. Third Viv acting distant but civil in return.
Viv’s fingernails combed through the waves of her hair. Their bases were painted black. Gold Roman numeral fours stood out as the topcoat.
My attention cut to Graham, the light shadow of IV on the inside of his wrist, so light it appeared to be a projection.
We’d decorated ourselves with clues. I hadn’t been paying close enough attention.
Others had. They suspected something was up.
I wanted to blurt it out to Viv. Those girls only invited you because they suspect we’re responsible for the flyers and Slumber Fest. Because they’re curious if you’ll let the truth slip. My hands twitched to shake her shoulders. Don’t you see? She had to.
They were manipulative. Amanda was cold. Cruel. Calculating.
“You’ve got that under control?” Graham asked. “I’m not going to a school dance unless it’s for a damn good reason.”
Viv slid her poppy sunglasses on. “There’s a reason.”
He gave a nod, satisfied.
I wasn’t. “What’s the reason?”
She ignored me, picking flecks of grass from her bare legs.
I rephrased. “We’re talking about Amanda, empress of high school torture and her I’m-so-chill best friend, Jess, a girl who’s allergic to acting like she cares about anything. Why would you want to share a limo with them?”
Her black lenses landed on me. “We took down Bedford. We’re about to take down Carver and Denton. Amanda’s only in drama to snake roles from me. She erased my name from the yearbook. She shouted that I had a chronic yeast infection in front all the eighth-grade boys.” Her voice shook with rage. “I need to get close enough to hurt her back. I want us to take her down.”
I crawled over, wrapped my arm around her, pressed my cheek to her wet cheek.
“I vote Viv can use the Order to get revenge on Amanda,” Graham said. “I’m even willing to subject myself to a school dance for the cause.”
The headphones had migrated to Harry’s neck and he watched shadows play on the grass between his feet. “Viv has a right to stand up for herself,” he said.
“Amanda suspects us. She has to.” I tried to appeal to Viv. “Playing with her could get us caught.”
“Any of our rebellions could,” Graham said to me. To Viv he asked, “Will you get caught?”
Viv swiped at the tears I co
uldn’t see under her glasses. “No,” she whispered.
Mutiny. This was our Order—my Order. If we were discovered, how would we get revenge for Goldilocks? Pulling something with Amanda could ruin our chances. I stopped that train of thought. I was not in charge of the Order. We had agreed to be democratic, and even if I didn’t like the outcome, I had to accept it. Nothing mattered more than Viv’s feelings. I’d taken risks before to stop Amanda.
Viv had started to leaf through the Antigone script propped on her knees. By her soft, insistent sighs, I knew she felt as unresolved by our disagreement as I did.
My arm touched hers. “Hey,” I said. “Obviously I’m in. I want to help.”
She looked sideways at me. “Mean it?”
I offered my pinkie finger. Hers hooked mine. “Pinkie swear.”
Viv could handle herself. Her name was erased from the yearbook, yet Viv never went crying to the school counselor. Viv might have ended the ridicule. But in Viv’s experience, tides turned.
The adorned and stuttering Viv was ridiculed by Amanda starting in the first grade. As Graham and I were playing our game of chicken, Viv was engaged in a similar, though less friendly, battle. It began like all great wars do. One side had something the other wanted. Viv’s life was flush with dazzling things. Ballerina pins made out of rubies, horseback riding lessons, exotic trips to visit family abroad, and a mother who was the kind of beautiful that made little kids murmur Princess. I have always believed that from the beginning, Amanda was jealous of Viv.
Amanda teased other kids too, for offenses like wearing rainbow shoelaces she judged to be babyish. Those kids probably burned the offending items. Not stubborn Viv. She continued to dress as she pleased—loudly. Sending a message to Amanda: You can’t control me.
So the war raged throughout grade school and Viv began striking back.
Amanda hijacked Viv’s binder and scrawled retard on the front. Viv snuck into the classroom coat closet with a handful of live earthworms for Amanda’s pockets.
Amanda disappeared Viv’s book report as it traveled to the front of class. Viv set free the class guinea pig the week before Amanda’s long-awaited homestay with Old Smoky.
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