Take the Fall(48)

I shake my head, but my throat closes before I can speak.

“It would’ve been better.” She looks at the door with a familiar downcast expression. “My parents lost their perfect daughter. Now all they’re left with is me.”

“Gretchen wasn’t perfect.” I find my voice, though the words are bitter on my tongue. “You don’t need me to tell you that.”

She looks at me and sighs. “You know what the worst part is? People assume that since we were sisters, we were close. They make this big deal like I’ve lost my best friend. And I want them to think that.”

I draw my knees to my chest and think of Kirsten as a little girl, desperate for a sister Gretchen refused to be.

Kirsten tilts her head back till it thuds softly against the wall. “I didn’t even really like Marcus. I just wanted to see if I could do it.”

I wait for her to say something more. The kind of stuff people usually add, like calling him a murderer or saying he got a bad rap, something to make it clear she thinks he did it or not. When she doesn’t say anything else, I just ask.

“Kirsten, do you think Marcus killed her?”

She stares at her hands, at dark polish that looks black in the dim light. “I’m not sure.”

I bite my fingernail.

“I might’ve picked Kevin or Tyrone first. They seemed a little more . . . bitter about being dumped. Marcus doesn’t really strike me as the murdery type. But after what Gretchen said to him at the party—”

“What did she say?”

“It was something about their breakup.” Her face burns bright red. “And him getting it up for the right girl.”

I raise my eyebrows. “Like she was accusing him of cheating?”

“Maybe.” She clears her throat. “I don’t know, I guess he could’ve killed her.”

I stare into the winter section of the closet. If Marcus was cheating, that would explain why Gretchen dumped him so suddenly. She would’ve been pissed; I don’t think she’d ever been cheated on in her life. And if she found out who he’d been seeing, she would have gone out of her way to make that person miserable.

Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way. Maybe I should be looking for whoever came between Marcus and Gretchen.

I look doubtfully at Kirsten. “Was that the first time you kissed him, at Brianne’s party?”

“It was my first kiss ever.” Kirsten’s blush deepens.

I shake my head. Gretchen broke up with Marcus more than a month ago. She would have told me in no uncertain terms if it was over Kirsten. She brought up my name on the video with Marcus, but it was clearly meant just to get under his skin. She knew it wasn’t me. So who else could it have been? And does this mean Marcus was lying about wanting to get back together with Gretchen?

Kirsten gets up and starts looking through Gretchen’s shoes. Behind her, I notice the light pink top Gretchen wore that night. The one she had on in the photo. It’s hung haphazardly, out of place with a bunch of black shirts and dresses, which means at the very least she stopped to change before heading back out. It seems like a little thing, but Gretchen never would have left it there unless she was distracted, in a rush.

Or maybe someone else misplaced it after she was gone.

“Hey, did you ever figure out who left that picture in your locker?” Kirsten asks.

I look over and she’s standing in front of the full-length mirror, wearing a pair of her sister’s heels.

My throat goes dry. “No. I haven’t given it much more thought,” I lie.

“But you seemed worried about it.”

“I was . . . I guess I still am,” I admit. “But it’s been a week and nothing’s come of it.”

She kicks off the shoes. “Hmm. Well, I guess that’s good.”

I pull myself to my feet. “Are you sure you’re okay, Kirsten? I mean, of course you’re not, but . . . I shouldn’t have let her leave you at Brianne’s. Anything that happened—”

“It’s okay.” She takes my hand, admiring the friendship bracelet. “I’m sure I would’ve had a hard time saying no to her too.”

I close my eyes, the air in the closet suddenly too thin.

“Well, I guess all of this is going to Goodwill tomorrow.” She drops my wrist and turns with a wistful sigh. “Thanks so much for coming today. I don’t think I could have come in here alone.”

“Of course.” I think of her dressed up in Gretchen’s clothes after the funeral and an uneasy feeling settles over me. I grab the pink shirt from the row of black clothes and put it back where it belongs.





TWENTY-TWO


FROM THE SIDEWALK ALONG THE edge of the park I can just make out the cascade of Hidden Falls gushing beyond the new spring leaves. From here, the rush of water is a pleasant murmur, not a deafening, drowning roar. A breeze runs up my arms, weaves through my hair, and I shiver, wondering if Mrs. Meyer’s crystals are actually working. I felt less haunted in Gretchen’s bedroom than I do standing out here. My fingers go to my wrist, tucking the bracelet safely inside my sleeve.

Someone clears their throat behind me.

“You know, you’re not supposed to be out walking without a buddy.” Reva Stone strolls toward me with a look of mild disinterest.