One of Us is Lying(36)

“I hardly think—” Principal Gupta begins, when the door opens and the receptionist sticks her head in.

“Bayview Police on line one,” she says, and Principal Gupta gets to her feet.

“Excuse me for a moment.”

She closes the door behind her and the four of us sit in strained silence, listening to the hum of the air conditioner. It’s the first time we’ve all been in one room together since Officer Budapest questioned us last week. I almost laugh when I remember how clueless we were then, arguing about unfair detentions and junior prom court.

Although to be fair, that was mostly me.

Nate lets go of my hand and tips his chair back, surveying the room. “Well. This is awkward.”

“Are you guys all right?” My words come out in a rush, surprising me. I’m not sure what I intended to say, but that wasn’t it. “This is unreal. That they—suspect us.”

“It was an accident,” Addy says immediately. Not like she’s positive, though. More like she’s testing a theory.

Cooper slides his eyes over to Nate. “Weird kind of accident. How does peanut oil get in a cup all by itself?”

“Maybe someone came into the room at some point and we didn’t notice,” I say, and Nate rolls his eyes at me. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but—you have to consider everything, right? It’s not impossible.”

“Lots of people hated Simon,” Addy says. From the hard set of her jaw, she’s one of them. “He ruined plenty of lives. You guys remember Aiden Wu? In our class, transferred sophomore year?” I’m the only one who nods, so Addy turns her gaze on me. “My sister knows his sister from college. Aiden didn’t transfer for the hell of it. He had a breakdown after Simon posted about his cross-dressing.”

“Seriously?” Nate asks. Cooper runs a hand back and forth over his hair.

“You remember those spotlight posts Simon used to do when he first launched the app?” Addy asks. “More in-depth stuff, like a blog, almost?”

My throat gets tight. “I remember.”

“Well, he did that with Aiden,” Addy says. “It was straight-up evil.” Something about her tone makes me uneasy. I never thought I’d hear shallow little Addy Prentiss speak with such venom in her voice. Or have an opinion of her own.

Cooper jumps in hastily, like he’s worried she’s going to go off on a rant. “That’s what Leah Jackson said at the memorial service. I ran into her under the bleachers. She said we were all hypocrites for treating him like some kind of martyr.”

“Well, there you go,” Nate says. “You were right, Bronwyn. The entire school’s probably been walking around with bottles of peanut oil in their backpacks, waiting for their chance.”

“Not just any peanut oil,” Addy says, and we all turn to her. “It would have to be cold-pressed for a person with allergies to react to it. The gourmet type, basically.”

Nate stares at her, brow creased. “How would you know that?”

Addy shrugs. “I saw it on the Food Network once.”

“Maybe that’s the sort of thing you keep to yourself when Gupta comes back,” Nate suggests, and the ghost of a grin flits across Addy’s face.

Cooper glares at Nate. “This isn’t a joke.”

Nate yawns, unperturbed. “Feels like it sometimes.”

I swallow hard, my mind still churning through the conversation. Leah and I were friendly once—we partnered in a Model United Nations competition that brought us to the state finals at the beginning of junior year. Simon had wanted to participate too, but we told him the wrong application deadline and he missed the cutoff. It wasn’t on purpose, but he never believed that and was furious with both of us. A few weeks later he started writing about Leah’s sex life on About That. Usually Simon posted something once and let it go, but with Leah, he kept the updates coming. It was personal. I’m sure he’d have done the same to me if there had been anything to find back then.

When Leah started sliding off the rails, she asked me if I’d misled Simon on purpose. I hadn’t but still felt guilty, especially once she slit her wrists. Nothing was the same for her after Simon started his campaign against her.

I don’t know what going through something like that does to a person.

Principal Gupta comes back into the room, shutting the door behind her and settling into her seat. “My apologies, but that couldn’t wait. Where were we?”

Silence falls for a few seconds, until Cooper clears his throat. “With all due respect, ma’am, I think we were agreeing we can’t have this conversation.” There’s a steel in his voice that wasn’t there before, and in an instant I feel the energy of the room coalesce and shift. We don’t trust one another, that’s pretty obvious—but we trust Principal Gupta and the Bayview Police Department even less. She sees it too and pushes her chair back.

“It’s important you know this door is always open to you,” she says, but we’re already getting to our feet and opening the door ourselves.

I’m out of sorts and anxious for the rest of the day, going through the motions of everything I’m supposed to do at school and at home. But I can’t relax, not really, until the clock inches past midnight and the phone Nate gave me rings.