Take the Fall(86)

I turn away before she can speak, and cut a straight diagonal across the dance floor, getting jabbed with elbows and cutting between couples. If she comes after me, I’ll call the sheriff. This can’t look crazy just to me. Aisha and Derek are taking a break at one of the tables and I slump into a chair next to them, wondering if I can call Dina for a ride or if I’ll have to stick this out.

“I see Kirsten decided to come after all,” Aisha says quietly.

“Yeah. In Gretchen’s prom dress,” I mutter, taking a long drink of water.

Aisha makes a face and glances at Derek, but he’s glued to his phone. “You doing okay, Sonia?”

“It’s fine, I’m just . . .”

She puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay, I get it.”

I press my lips into some semblance of a smile. I doubt she does, but I appreciate the thought.

I stay in my seat most of the next two hours. Through the speech by Principal Bova, Brianne and Kevin being crowned prom king and queen, and a brief video tribute to Gretchen. Every time I look at Kirsten, she’s watching me. I wish the room were a little bigger just so I could move farther away. Brianne stops by our table with Jill Barkman. I congratulate her and mutter something about her tiara. She talks about the music, about being nervous for graduation, then says something about how Gretchen should’ve won and quickly disappears. A few more groups cycle through like this, always saying something about how unfortunate it is about Gretchen, and I start to realize I’ve become like some kind of human confessional, here to make everyone feel a little less guilty for having a good time without her. The music shifts to a long, slow ballad. A couple people catch my eye, start to head in my direction, and I rise from my seat. I just need a moment to myself.

I take the long way around the gym, behind the stage and sound equipment, careful to avoid wires and lights in the heels I borrowed from Dina. I’m concentrating so much on where I’m putting my feet, I don’t notice someone standing in my way until I look straight up into the Jason hockey mask. I startle, losing my balance as I step back. “Jason” grabs my right arm, steadies me, and then looks over his shoulder and pulls me aside.

“Hey, what—”

He takes off his mask and I gasp, a cold ache flashing through my heart.

“Why are you here?”

“To see you.” His gaze is steady, almost apologetic.

I peer over his shoulder toward the crowd. “I think you’ve got the wrong girl.”

Marcus frowns. “You look beautiful.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all.”

I meet his eyes and my legs weaken along with my resolve. I want to move closer, find my courage somewhere in his arms. But then I look at the mask in his hand and think of him and Kirsten together. My throat burns. I step back. “Didn’t want to be recognized before you could corner me?”

He holds up his mask. “Guilty.”

“So what happens if I tell Deputy Robson I feel threatened?”

“They throw me out and I lose my chance to set things straight with you.”

This would be easier if I didn’t badly want to believe him.

“You don’t have to get thrown out for that.”

His eyes flash. “So you’re not going to turn me in?”

I set my jaw and push past him. “I need to go meet my frie—”

He grabs my wrist. I glare back at him.

He lets go. “Please, Sonia. Five minutes.”

The music stops. The DJ announces he’s taking a short break to swap out equipment. The volume around us falls to chatter. But I’m afraid if I stay, I won’t want to leave.

“Move away from me and I won’t scream.”

He steps back.

I peer around the edge of the DJ setup. Everyone in the room is flocking back to the tables. I spot my friends in the opposite corner. Aisha scans the crowd, looking worried, but Haley’s in my seat, going to town on a plate of food. I give Marcus a wary glance. We’re in a quiet corner tucked behind a set of retractable wooden bleachers. It’s dim, but not completely secluded.

“Give me one good reason I should listen to you.”

His voice and eyes are flat. “I think I know who killed Gretchen.”

My skin goes cold. The music may have paused, but the room seems louder than ever. “Five minutes.”

He sets his mask down and takes a breath. “I asked Kirsten about the postcards. She showed me the one she got; it seems legit.”

I grind my teeth. “Are you seriously trying to sell me that? Then why would she keep it from Sheriff Wood?”

He shakes his head. “It was Kip. He’s been following her around like a lost puppy since the funeral.”

“So have you.” If this is his argument, I’m unimpressed. “But let me guess, you guys fought, you’re upset she’s here with him, so let’s call him a murderer.”

His jaw is hard. “Actually, she asked me to keep an eye on him. Kirsten believes I’m not guilty. She offered to do what she could if I agreed to watch her back, since she felt targeted too. But that’s the only reason we were meeting.”

He’s looking straight at me, posture tense, like he needs me to believe with his entire body. My chest fills with a murky hope, wishing for him to be telling the truth. Just this once. “Nice of her to be so generous about it. That still doesn’t make Kip the killer.”