“DeSanto’s future singing career has been stymied by health problems since early last November. I spoke to fellow classmates at Pine Grove High School earlier today to get a better picture.”
The screen flips to a mic being held out to Cynthia Johnson, a girl at our school who was always trying to hang out with Kadence and me back in the day. Kadence used to make fun of her and call her and her kind “Desperation Nation”—the people who wanted to feel famous by hanging out with famous people.
“Lauren hasn’t been right since she lost her voice,” Cynthia says, shaking her long brown hair. “And then there was that fight the other day in the cafeteria because Lauren hooked up with Kady’s boyfriend.”
“There was a physical altercation between the two girls?” the reporter asks.
“Oh my gosh, it was bad. It started with Kady pulling Lauren’s hair and screaming at her, then Lauren went down hard. But I mean, who wouldn’t have been upset? Kady and Mason have been together for years now. For her best friend to have…And now Kady’s missing…” Fat tears stream down Cynthia’s face.
I want to throw my socks at the screen. Cynthia. Freaking Desperation Nation. How many people did she have to shove out of the way or trample to make sure she was the one on camera? I bet she’s kept those fake Bambi tears up all day and can produce them on command. All so she could get on there and make it sound like I…Like I—
I press a hand to my chest. God, I’m breathing too hard, too fast. I’m barely getting anything in. I blink hard, feeling light-headed.
The video switches from Cynthia’s face to a full screen of one of our music videos, a fan favorite. Last time I checked, it had more than 750,000 views. Kadence is in her full glitz-and-glam show getup, with that bronzer she always dusts her body with before every take because she swears it makes her practically glow on camera. She’s grinning like crazy as we sing. I have to admit that I look like a dull, flannel-clad sparrow beside her.
It never bothered me before, but now I wish I’d taken Kady’s advice and brightened my look up a bit. I always thought it was more important to put the focus on the lyrics rather than what I was wearing. Now I’m not so sure. I doubt anyone watching their TV right now is listening to the lyrics.
The camera zooms in on my face and freezes the frame. Oh man. I wasn’t expecting that. The video doesn’t do that normally. The news show must have edited it that way, and I see what they’re trying to do. I glare at Kady in the freeze-frame, my eyebrows drawn and my mouth turned down. “No arrests have been made at this time,” the reporter says as the video minimizes, still locked on that shot where I look pissed off and guilty as hell, obviously their intention even though they haven’t out and out said it. Talking about our fight, and then this—
“That’s out of context!” I yell at the screen, finally gulping in a full breath.
The only reason I was looking at Kadence like that was because she’d changed the lyrics in the middle of a performance. She can’t do that! How many times do I have to tell her she can’t change the lyrics, especially when we’re onstage? It’s completely unprofessional.
“Our inside source was unable to provide more information except to say that the investigation is ongoing,” the reporter continues. “Certainly all eyes in Pine Grove, all of Minnesota, the Internet, and the world beyond will be following this story to see that justice for Kady is found.”
Without missing a beat, the reporter flashes a blinding white grin. “Kristi Clemens reporting.”
I flip off the TV and, with a shriek, throw the remote against the wall. It leaves a small indent in the paint.
What just happened? How did it all move so fast? Kadence has only been officially missing since Sunday night and the press conference was only Monday. But then again, I saw the fans turn on me, and I didn’t do myself any favors at the press conference.
And Kady…and Kady…Suddenly I can’t breathe again. I gag and barely manage to keep from throwing up. Then I roll over on my bed and scream into my pillow.
But that’s not enough and suddenly my hands are scrabbling at my sheets. I rip the comforter and blankets off the bed, then the sheets, then shove at the mattress itself but don’t move it very far before letting out a frustrated huff. I turn away and pace my floor like a caged animal.
What do I do? What do I do? I can’t sit here and do nothing.
That’s when my phone rings. It’s an unidentified number. I shouldn’t answer. It will be more of the same from school. Maybe it’s a reporter. I pick it up anyway.
“Hello?” I whisper, running a hand through my wild hair.
“Ren?” It’s Jude. Thank God, it’s Jude. I collapse on my mattress. Then I hear him say to someone who’s with him, “You guys go on without me.” There’s some chatter in the background, and then he asks me, “Are you okay?”
“How did you get my number?”
“Don’t worry about that,” he says. “How are you doing?” His voice is so sweet, so tender. He talks to me like I am something small and soft and in need of care. I don’t think I can bear it, so I laugh more out of self-defense than any real sense of humor.
He doesn’t understand. “What’s so funny?”
“You shouldn’t be so nice to me. Didn’t you hear? I’ve already been convicted, no possibility of parole.”
“Ren…people…people are assholes.”
I don’t think he knows about the TV show. He probably thinks I’m talking about people at school. I wish that was all it was. “Did you see the TV news—?” I begin to say.
“Yeah, people were Facebooking it. I saw the clip.” He sounds apologetic, as if he’s to blame for public opinion.
“Already?” I ask, disbelieving. “It was just on.”
“It must have been on earlier too.”
I don’t say anything right away. My insides are coiling and recoiling. I look around my room for something more to throw. Anger I can handle. Sort of. Anxiety, maybe. But mix in fear, confusion, sadness, and guilt—and it’s all too much. I might spontaneously combust. That’s a real thing. People can actually do that.
“Hey,” Jude says. “The whole world isn’t out to get you. I know you didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yeah.” I laugh with even more incredulity. “And why is that exactly?”
“Why is what?”
“Why should you think I’m not capable of hurting my best friend? You know—better than anybody else—how capable I am of doing exactly that.” I suck in my breath. I hadn’t planned on being so blunt. So freakin’ honest.
Jude doesn’t say anything right away. I’ve made my point. He can’t deny it. “Did you hurt her?” he asks, so maybe I haven’t convinced him after all.
“No,” I whisper, remembering all of Kadence’s and my history. The good. The bad. And most of all, the ugly. That’s when my tears, which had until now only been threatening to fall, become the Deluge. “No, I didn’t.”
Neither of us says anything for a while. Then Jude says very quietly, “Ren? You still there?”
“Yeah, I’m still here. You know that thing you said the other night…about starting my own investigation…Are you still down with that? I think you’re the only one I can trust.”
“Yeah, Ren. I’m still down.”
And then I blurt out before I can stop myself, “Can you come over? Like now?”
He doesn’t even hesitate. “Be there in five.”
I look around my messed-up room and wince. “Cool. But maybe make it fifteen.”
Thirteen
Mason
Sheriff’s Office—The Interview Continues
Monday, April 2
11:25 a.m.
Kopitzke: Do you think Lauren DeSanto was capable of hurting Kadence?
I think about that. Sure, Lauren DeSanto may be like a wounded bird, but Kady wasn’t the one who wounde
d her. There would have been no reason for Lauren to lash out at Kady over what happened to her voice. But then…Lauren isn’t always rational about things. She got a B+ on an English test once and took it out on the lunch lady. Started yelling at her about the overuse of MSG in the Tater Tot hot dish.
When Lauren got mad, she never had trouble slinging arrows. What she needed to work on was hitting the target.
Kopitzke: Mason, I’m asking if you find Lauren DeSanto to be a credible person. Do you trust her?
How am I supposed to answer that? I mean, yeah, once Lauren tried to convince me that Kady was hooking up with other guys, but I don’t think Lauren was trying to be dishonest. I think she was actually worried about me, even though I knew it wasn’t true. Kady wasn’t capable of that kind of dishonesty. Besides, she was with me so much she didn’t have time for anyone else.
I think that’s what’s hurt me the most lately. Kadence has been so involved with her songwriting that we haven’t had time to hang out like before. I’ve missed her. Without Kady I’m just me, right? Nothing special. Kadence made me special. She made everything special.
I’m feeling antsy. Shouldn’t we be out doing something? Shouldn’t we be organizing a search party? I don’t like just sitting here and talking. But fine, if answering their questions is going to get them in action sooner, the quicker we’re done with this, the better.
Mason: Yeah. Yeah, I trust Lauren.
Kopitzke: What about Kadence? Do you trust her?
Mason: She’s my girlfriend.
Kopitzke: Yes, but is she dependable? Predictable? Would she ever do something like take off without telling her parents or you or any of her friends?
Mason: Never. If she even tried something like that, her parents would have her on lockdown forever. They worry too much about her health.
Kopitzke: How so?
Mason: Normal parent stuff. Kady’s got a pretty bad allergy, so they monitor what she eats pretty hard, and they make her carry an EpiPen.
Kopitzke: Food allergies are rough. You have to be strict with yourself, no cheating allowed.
His statement brings me back to Lauren’s accusation about Kady cheating on me. Lauren had been angry about it. She said she didn’t like Kady treating me badly. I called Lauren a liar. I told her it was a pretty low thing to lie about and that she didn’t need to take out her own personal unhappiness on me and Kady. For all I knew, she was trying to break us up just to make herself feel better.
Surprisingly, Kady forgave Lauren. But then that’s the way Kady was. Is. She’s loyal to her friends. All of them. And she’s never one to carry a grudge. Lauren, on the other hand…
Kopitzke: Mason?
For a moment I’ve forgotten where I am. I look up, and Kopitzke is staring at me like he’s waiting for an answer. I can’t remember what question he last asked. I can’t remember what I’ve already told him.
Do I admit that Lauren has the potential to get really angry? No. He wouldn’t understand. Angry or not, I can’t believe she’d actually hurt Kady. Though, who really knew what went on in that girl’s head?
Fourteen
Lauren
De Santo Residence—Lauren’s Bedroom
Wednesday, April 4
6:00 p.m.
Jude makes me put his name at the top of the list. He says if we’re going to do this, then we’re going to do it right. Thorough is our mantra. If someone could have a motive to hurt Kadence, their name goes on the list.
I add mine below his. I’m already a suspect, and Kadence has hurt me too. Maybe not as directly, maybe not as viciously as she’s hurt others, but sometimes the cruelest acts are the silent ones.
We’re in my room because I don’t feel safe anywhere else. I’m sitting at my desk, head bent over a spiral notebook. My laptop beside the notebook. My ukulele by my feet. I feel calm now. The momentary tantrum from earlier has passed. Tantrums, that’s what Mom calls them. As if it’s something I never outgrew from when I was a little kid.
Jude’s sitting on my bed, on top of the blue floral comforter that I arranged perfectly back in place before he got here. When I glance over, I notice him looking at the dark smear across the dirty plate I left on my bedside table. “What the hell did you eat?” he asks.
“Hmmm? What? Oh. Organic black beans with a gluten-free tortilla.”
Jude’s face contorts and his eyebrows pull together. “Why would you eat that?” The way he’s acting, you’d think I’d told him it was a pile of poo.
“It’s good for me,” I say. “I’ve been trying to go organic, caffeine free, even gluten free, but that one’s pretty hard to stick to. I’m trying to do what’s right for me these days.” Mentally I add, inside and out and for once in my life.
Jude shrugs. “If you say so. But a life so free sounds pretty restrictive if you ask me.”
“Well…” He has me there. I can’t honestly say I get a ton of enjoyment out of black beans. “I didn’t ask you.”
The corners of his lips turn up, and his thumb and forefinger rub the satin edge of the fleece blanket that’s poking out from underneath my comforter. I’ve had that blanket since I was a toddler. I remember rubbing the satin—self-soothing in the moments I was feeling most upset. Are you good for me, Jude? Inside and out? Am I doing the right thing here? And then I look away before the questions show up on my face. Because seriously. If Jude notices, he’s perceptive enough to ask. I clear my throat and bend over my notebook.
Below my name, I write: “Mary.” I have to pull an old yearbook out of my desk drawer to remember her last name. “Blake.” I don’t know how I forgot that. In ninth grade, Kadence called her “Blake the Rake” because Mary was tall and thin with buck teeth. It didn’t take long for the whole school to catch on.
I remember thinking it was funny at the time. I feel bad about that now. Mary was actually pretty. She just had a slight overbite, and more importantly she was super talented. Easily the best girl in the freshman choir, and she beat me and Kady out at the eighth-grade talent show. Looking back, that’s probably why Kadence went after her.
I stare at the name a second longer, and a memory tickles at the back of my brain. It takes another moment for it to settle in. @MBlake96. I pull up Twitter and scroll back through my feed, but I can’t find it again. Doesn’t matter. I remember the most important part. Payback’s a bitch, Lauren.
“Oh yeah,” Jude says, seeing her name. “I forgot about her. Why is she on the list?”
I turn my head toward him, eyebrows raised. “Kadence made out with Mary’s boyfriend behind the bleachers after the last football game junior year.”
“That was a long time ago for her to still be mad about that.”
“It was pretty ugly,” I say, looking back at Mary’s name on the paper. “Mary ended up changing schools,” I add, my voice fading out at the end. Payback’s a bitch, Lauren. I frown in confusion.
Jude shrugs. “Okay. Good enough for me. Who else?”
“Justine Dow.”
“Really? How did Kadence piss off Justine?”
“Called her out when she got her period on a day she wore white pants.”
Jude shudders, and I laugh. It’s funny to see a big tough guy get weirded out by periods.
“Moving on,” he says. He gets up from the edge of my bed where he’s been sitting and stands right behind me, leaning over my shoulder as he looks at the names on the list. I can feel the heat rolling off his body. His hair tickles my cheek. “Be sure to put Jeremy Atkinson down.”
I nod, remembering that Jude had brought him up the day before. Jude had been accurate when he accused Kadence of toying with Jeremy’s emotions. I write down Jeremy’s name, then add Caleb Morrissey.
Jude taps Caleb’s name. “Kadence outed him to his dad, right? That was after I left too, but I still heard about it.”
“Yeah,”
I say. “It was last year.” I turn around in my chair so I can see Jude better, plus it makes him take a step back and I needed him to do that. Jude’s physical closeness is unnerving. Exciting, but unnerving.
“Kady, Mason, and I were hanging out in Caleb’s basement,” I say, explaining how it all went down. “Kady invited this other guy to come over because she knew he was totally into Caleb. They drank a bunch of scotch, and Caleb and this other dude started making out. Kadence and I had gone upstairs to use the bathroom, but when I came out, she was telling his dad that there was something wrong with the TV downstairs, and he should probably come check it out.”
“Shit.”
“His dad’s a trucker. Very old-school macho. When he came down and saw what was happening, he grabbed Caleb by the back of his shirt and hauled him out of there. Beat him within an inch of his life.”
Jude’s face sours. “Dammit, Ren. Why were you friends with her? She’s vile.”
“I don’t know,” I say, looking at the floor. What Jude doesn’t understand and I can’t even begin to explain is that there were so many good memories too. Kadence could be really sweet. She made me feel special. She told me her secrets, and it made me feel important. Which is lame. I know that.
“It wasn’t like Kadence expected that to happen,” I say. “She thought she was helping him get out of the closet and all that. I mean, obviously it was completely naive and wrong of her, and looking back on it, she should have minded her own business.”
I hate the way Jude is staring at me. It puts me on the defensive. “And that thing with Mary…” I hurry on. “Kadence was just talking to her boyfriend but he was macking on her, and the next thing Kadence knew, they were kissing.” My shoulders flinch in reaction to my own words. Saying it like that reminds me of what happened between me and Mason. Am I as innocent in that kiss as I’ve been telling myself? “We were young. Stupid. Immature. I’d know better if it was happening today.”
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