Vengeance

by Kate Brian

  I groaned and gripped the sides of the white pedestal sink. Why was all of this happening? Why now? I had way too much to do to be sitting here obsessing about crap like this.

  I wondered if anyone back at Croton High ever had to deal with stalkers and murderers and mystery texters. My guess was no.

  A knock at the door interrupted my thoughts. I quickly washed my hands and walked out, holding the door open for the woman who’d been waiting. I took a deep breath, steeling myself for more butt-kissing and explaining-away-of-disaster, and turned toward the restaurant.

  “Um, Reed?”

  I whirled around, startled. Sawyer hovered near the end of the short hallway, in front of a brocade bench, looking tense and uncomfortable. His blond hair hung over one eye and he wore a gray sport jacket over a wrinkled black T-shirt. I hugged my arms against the air-conditioned chill in the hall and tried to smile, wondering what he was doing here. I couldn’t imagine that his father would have encouraged his attendance, even though the headmaster had been forced to show up for appearance’s sake.

  “Hey, Sawyer.”

  “You okay?” he asked.

  “Yeah.” I tried for a casual shrug. “Just kind of can’t wait until this whole weekend is over. But then I guess I get to go back to stressing about finals, so . . .”

  Sawyer cracked an understanding smile and pushed his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. “Like the rest of us.”

  I nodded, wondering if he’d been waiting for me to come out of the bathroom, or if this meeting was just a coincidence. Sawyer toyed with a button on his jacket, twisting it around and around.

  “Are you okay?” I asked.

  He looked into my eyes, seeming to steel himself. Then he blew out a sigh, his cheeks puffing up and deflating.

  “I heard about what happened with you and Graham,” he said, biting his lip.

  “Oh,” I said, my heart fluttering with sudden nerves. “That.”

  “Yeah.” He sat down on the bench behind him and pressed his hands together between his knees. “That.”

  The toilet inside the bathroom flushed. I moved over to the bench and sat next to Sawyer as the woman emerged and headed back to the party.

  “I’m really sorry, Reed. Graham . . . he tries to be a good brother, but . . . he has no idea what he’s talking about,” Sawyer said, looking at up at me through that lock of blond hair.

  “He seemed pretty adamant,” I said.

  “You have to understand, he and Jen, they were inseparable,” Sawyer told me, sitting up straight. “I don’t know if it was the twin thing or what, but they were best friends. When she died, it was like he died with her. He’s had his good moments, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a different person than he used to be. And it’s like he’s always looking for someone to blame for it.”

  I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine what it had been like for Graham, not to mention Sawyer. If my brother Scott ever died . . . I wasn’t sure how I would ever get through it.

  “Like Josh,” I said.

  “Yeah. Like Josh,” he repeated, his blue eyes sad. He licked his lips and looked down at his lap. “And about the other stuff . . . the stuff about me and you—”

  “It’s okay,” I said, my gut twisting in knots. “You don’t have to say anything.”

  “No,” he blurted, so vehemently it startled me. He wiped his palms on his jeans. “No, I do. I mean, I don’t know what he said exactly, but there is something I want you to know.”

  My breath caught in my throat. Please don’t let him profess his undying love. Please, please, please. That was something I definitely wouldn’t be able to deal with on top of everything else. Sawyer reached over and took my hand. He tugged it toward him, holding it between our two knees. My first instinct was to draw it back, but it seemed so unnecessarily cruel. So I just sort of froze. Froze and prayed for this to be over quickly.

  “All I want is for you to be happy,” he said seriously, looking me in the eye. “That’s really all I want. You know that, right? Even if it’s with some other guy.”

  My heart thumped. Hard. Definitely not what I expected. And I had no idea how to respond.

  “Okay,” I said finally, awkwardly.

  And then Josh walked into the hallway. Sawyer sprang to his feet, which of course just made the whole thing look even worse than it really was.

  “Josh!” I said, standing. “Hey!”

  There was something in his eyes as he looked at me right then, something I’d never seen before and knew right away I never wanted to see again. He looked like he wanted to tear me limb from limb. In that moment I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t even think. And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

  “I should get back to my dad,” Sawyer said.

  He waited for Josh to move so that he could get past, but Josh stood his ground, forcing Sawyer to turn sideways so he could slide by. He lifted his hand in my direction before disappearing around the corner.

  Josh’s lower jaw shifted to the side, then righted itself. “Moving on already?” he said archly. “I haven’t even graduated yet.”

  My pulse was still pounding from his awful glare. I just looked at him, trying to see the guy I loved and not the one who had just momentarily scared the crap out of me.

  “I’m just kidding!” he said, cracking a grin. “Wow. Are you okay?”

  He reached for my hands and I let him take them, but kept my distance otherwise, leaning back against the wall. His fingers were cold and calloused.

  “I’m fine.” I looked into his eyes, but there was nothing there other than jovial Josh. “You know I’m not interested in Sawyer.”

  “Of course I do.” He moved his hands up my arms, enveloped me in a hug, and gave me a quick, dry kiss on the lips. “I was just messing around.”

  Then he let me go and turned toward the end of the hall. “So, you ready to get back in there? People are asking for you.”

  I took a deep breath and tried to calm the beating of my heart.

  “Ready,” I said, hazarding a smile.

  He reached for my hand and then, just like that, we rejoined the party as if nothing was wrong. As if I wasn’t starting to wonder, just the teeniest, tiniest bit, if Graham was onto something.

  DISTRACTION

  Josh was off his meds. It was the only reasonable explanation for all the odd behavior. As I sat in the solarium on Monday night along with Constance, Astrid, and Lorna, I couldn’t stop staring at him. He was sitting on the other side of the room, alone, slumped in a chair with one hand against his temple. His focus was on a novel for English class, but beneath the table, one leg bounced up and down, like he was some kind of speed freak coming down from a high.

  “So who do you guys think is going to win the scholar-athlete award for the seniors, Trey or Lance?” Astrid asked, taking a slug of her double espresso. “Because Trey’s, like, freaking out about it.”

  “Oh, please. Trey has it in the bag,” Lorna said. “He plays three varsity sports and was MVP in basketball. Lance is only on crew and fencing.”

  “Yeah, but Lance has the better grades,” Constance pointed out. “And it is scholar-athlete.”

  “Exactly what Trey keeps saying,” Astrid put in. “What do you think, Reed?”

  “No contest,” I said distractedly. “Trey’ll win.”

  A pair of guys from the soccer team walked in through the side door and Josh nearly jumped out of his skin. A moment later Marc Alberro strolled close to Josh’s table and Josh’s head jumped up, as if he were startled. As if he was waiting for someone to attack him.

  “Well, I know I’m not winning anything, but I don’t care,” Lorna said, untangling a knot in her beaded necklace. “I’d rather not be sitting there nervous all night, sweating into my new Zac Posen.”

  “Ew!” Constance whined.

  A couple of freshmen at the table next to Josh’s cracked up laughing and he lit into them so fiercely they both turned pink in the face. Then he slumped even lower in his
chair, yanking his iPod from the pocket of his Easton sweatshirt and jamming the buds into his ears.

  “Reed?” Constance asked.

  Josh’s knee jerked upward so suddenly he knocked over the salt and pepper shakers on his table—which he didn’t seem to notice.

  “Um, Reed? Hello?” Astrid said.

  Lorna leaned across the table and pinched my arm.

  “Ow!” I complained, rubbing the spot. “What?”

  “What world are you in?” Astrid demanded, staring me down over her laptop screen. “Because I’d like to remember never to visit it.”

  I sighed, slumping my shoulders forward. “I’m sorry, guys. I’m just really distracted tonight.”

  “It’s okay,” Constance said, lifting her coffee to her lips with both hands and blowing across the surface of the liquid. “Everyone’s a little stressed right now. Wanna vent?”

  “A good venting always works for me,” Lorna added.

  A heavy feeling flooded my chest, something like gratitude mixed with guilt. Here my friends were, trying to be friends, but I had no interest in telling them what was going on. Because I didn’t really understand yet what was going on.

  “Thanks, guys, but I think I’m just going to go back to my room and try to get some work done,” I told them, getting up and shoving my books into my bag. “Maybe I’ll feel better if I can get through some of my to-do list.”

  “Okay. Well, call us if you need us,” Astrid offered.

  “I will.”

  I turned around and started across the crowded, noisy room, leaving my iced tea and any chance I had at a helpful study group behind. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t sit there anymore and stare at my downward-spiraling boyfriend. And I knew that as hard as my friends might try to help me, that was all I’d be doing.

  Then, halfway to the door, I paused. Why didn’t I just ask Josh what was going on? Ask him if he’d gone off his medication? He was my boyfriend. We were in love with each other. He’d understand that I was just concerned, right? I looked at him over my shoulder and bit my lip.

  Or he’d tell me I was crazy, to mind my own freaking business, and bite my head off for basically accusing him of acting like a mental patient.

  Screw it. I had to talk to him. I had to put all this uncertainty to rest. I’d taken one step toward him when my phone beeped. I paused with a frustrated groan and yanked it out of my bag.

  The noise of the room suddenly quieted to a dull hum in my ears and I paused. The text was from MT.

  GET 2 THE CONSTRUCTION SITE. NOW.

  I whipped around, my phone clutched in my hand, searching the room. Of course, every other person there was typing on their phone. I tried to stay perfectly still—tried to focus. Suddenly the door near the counter marked STAFF ONLY swung shut. Someone slipped out of the solarium by the side door, which was hardly ever used, and let it slam. And then I saw something partially hidden behind the potted trees near the corner. I took a tentative step back to get a better angle, my pulse racing, expecting to catch a glimpse of blond hair, but it was just a mop and bucket left behind by the janitor. I took a deep breath and tried to calm down, scanning the room once more, but no one was watching me. They were all in their own little worlds. Just like I was in mine. Alone with my mystery texter.

  I turned around and headed for the door. Out in the hallway I nearly slammed into Noelle and Ivy, who were locked in an argument.

  “You have no idea what you’re talking about!” Ivy blurted.

  Noelle shoved her hands into her hair. “Oh my God! You weren’t even there!”

  “Guys?” I said approaching them.

  “I didn’t need to be there to know what you were doing there!” Ivy replied.

  “Guys!” I shouted.

  They both clammed up and turned to me.

  “What?” they snapped in unison, clearly annoyed at having their latest battle interrupted. But when they saw the look on my face their whole demeanor changed. Ivy’s eyes flicked to my phone, still clutched in my hand.

  “Reed? What’s wrong?” Noelle asked, her brow creased.

  Ivy took a step toward me. “Is it—?”

  I nodded. “I need you both to come with me,” I told them firmly. “Now.”

  SLANDER

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this!” Noelle said between gasps as the three of us rushed across campus. The sky above was dark as low clouds crowded out the moon and stars. A chilly wind whipped my hair back from my face.

  I glared at her. “First of all, the last time I was getting mystery texts, you and your crazy grandmother were behind them, so—”

  “Hey! That’s our crazy grandmother,” she replied, earning a wry laugh from Ivy, who was bringing up the rear. “And this is definitely not her.”

  “Well, whatever. You’ve had enough to deal with in the past few months and I didn’t want to worry you,” I said as the shadowy construction site loomed into view. “Besides, nothing dangerous has happened.”

  “Except for the whole cement truck thing,” Ivy reminded me.

  “Yeah, but MT had nothing to do with that,” I retorted.

  I slowed as the stage I’d stood on just two days ago to cut the ceremonial ribbon came into clearer focus. The chairs had been removed, but the podium was still there, and it looked as if someone had hung something across the front of the wide stage.

  “So you think,” Noelle said.

  Ivy stopped next to us and our ragged breath mingled in the night as we tried to make out exactly what we were seeing. Finally we were close enough to read the angry red message that had been hastily scrawled across the long, white banner.

  “Oh my God,” I said breathlessly, my hands fluttering up to cover my mouth.

  The banner read: BILLINGS GIRLS ARE MURDERERS! The words were painted in blood red, the drips and random swipes of the brush making them appear as if they’d been constructed by a madman. Printed on the banner next to the message were three larger-than-life color photos. The first was of Ariana Osgood. The next, Sabine DuLac, who’d killed Cheyenne Martin. And finally, Calista Ryan, Paige and Daniel’s mother.

  Okay, so maybe Paige wasn’t behind all this.

  “Those bastards,” Noelle said under her breath.

  “Who?” Ivy asked. “Do you know who did this?”

  “No! I just . . . I just meant whoever did this . . . they’re bastards,” Noelle explained hastily.

  “Yeah, and they missed someone,” I added angrily. “Where’s Mrs. Kane?” I was surprised by the vehemence behind my words, the force of the fury rising up in my veins. My eyes blurred with hot tears as the images from the night of my birthday came flooding back in stark relief. Mrs. Kane practically spitting as she threatened me and my friends. The hateful look in her eyes as the cops dragged her away. The knife flying through the air, straight for my heart. And Mr. Lange. Noelle’s father. My father . . . flinging himself in front of me, saving my life, sacrificing his own for mine. The images were so crisp and clear, it was as if the whole thing were happening all over again. I had tried so hard not to think about it for so long, but every last detail had just been percolating in the back of my mind, waiting to burst forth and torture me. “She was a Billings girl, wasn’t she? God! If you’re going to slander us, at least get all your facts straight!” I shouted, as if anyone near the quad could hear me, as if every one of them was responsible. Something inside of me had broken, and everything I’d been holding inside came gushing out uncontrollably.

  “Reed? What’re you doing?” Ivy asked shakily as I stomped up the dozen steps to the stage.

  “I’m taking it down!” I shouted back angrily. “What does it look like I’m doing?”

  The floorboards creaked and bowed beneath my feet as I reached over and yanked at the twine that held the corner of the banner in place. It took a few good jerks, but it came free. Then I stomped over to the center of the banner, which had been secured to the podium. A loud crack sent my heart hurtling into my
throat. The raised stage had been hastily constructed and apparently it couldn’t withstand my angry tromping. But I was almost done. I got the center of the banner down and moved on to the far side.

  “Reed! Wait!” Noelle shouted.

  “Get down from there!” Ivy cried.

  “Just let me finish!” I yelled back.

  I leaned into the railing and reached for the last piece of twine. But as soon as I shifted my weight, the floorboards seemed to fly out from beneath my feet, as if my toes had pushed them in the opposite direction. My stomach swooped end over end as I lost my footing and a loud, wailing groan filled the night air. Ivy screamed, the safety railing collapsed in front of me, and before I could even let out a surprised yelp, I was falling.

  FRIEND OR FOE

  “Would you believe I’ve never broken a bone before?” I said, wincing as I opened and closed the fingers on my left hand. The cast was annoyingly pink and impossibly heavy. Ivy had already signed her name in big, elegant letters, and now Noelle was working on her own message. Her long hair grazed the bare part of my arm, just above my elbow, tickling my already itchy skin.

  “Really?” she said, her eyebrows popping up. “I always imagined your childhood in West Nowhere, Pennsylvania, to be all swinging from trees and falling off barn roofs.”

  “Okay, there were no barns in my town. And I wasn’t Huck Finn,” I told her with a forced laugh. “I was just a tomboy.”

  “What kind of tomboy never breaks a bone?” Ivy said as she sat in the vinyl chair in the corner of the small, curtained cubicle where we awaited my release forms.

  “A careful one, I guess,” I said.

  “Done.” Noelle capped the Sharpie the nurse had left for us and tossed it on the bedside table. I glanced down at the message. It read, Smooth move, Glass-Licker. xoxo Noelle.