One of Us is Lying(64)
Leah gives Maeve a small salute. “Touché, Rojas the younger.”
But Maeve’s just getting warmed up. “I’m sick of the conversation never changing. Why doesn’t anybody talk about how awful About That made this school sometimes?” She looks directly at Leah, her eyes challenging. “Why don’t you? They’re right outside, you know. Dying for a new angle. You could give it to them.”
Leah recoils. “I’m not talking to the media about that.”
“Why not?” Maeve asks. I’ve never seen her like this; she’s almost fierce as she stares Leah down. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Simon did. He did it for years, and now everybody’s sainting him for it. Don’t you have a problem with that?”
Leah stares right back, and I can’t make out the expression that crosses her face. It’s almost … triumphant? “Obviously I do.”
“So do something about it,” Maeve says.
Leah stands abruptly, pushing her hair over her shoulder. The movement lifts her sleeve and exposes a crescent-shaped scar on her wrist. “Maybe I will.” She stalks out the door with long strides.
Cooper blinks after her. “Dang, Maeve. Remind me not to get on your bad side.” Maeve wrinkles her nose, and I remember the file with Cooper’s name on it she still hasn’t managed to decrypt.
“Leah’s not on my bad side,” she mutters, tapping furiously on her phone.
I’m almost afraid to ask. “What are you doing?”
“Sending Simon’s 4chan threads to Mikhail Powers Investigates,” she says. “They’re journalists, right? They should look into it.”
“What?” Janae bursts out. “What are you talking about?”
“Simon was all over these discussion threads full of creepy people cheering on school shootings and stuff like that,” Maeve says. “I’ve been reading them for days. Other people started them, but he jumped right in and said all kinds of awful things. He didn’t even care when that boy killed all those people in Orange County.” She’s still tapping away when Janae’s hand shoots out and locks around her wrist, almost knocking her phone from her hand.
“How would you know that?” she hisses, and Maeve finally snaps out of the zone to realize she might’ve said too much.
“Let her go,” I say. When Janae doesn’t, I reach out and pry her fingers off Maeve’s wrist. They’re icy cold. Janae pushes her chair back with a loud scrape, and when she gets to her feet she’s shaking all over.
“None of you knew anything about him,” she says in a choked voice, and stomps away just like Leah did. Except she’s probably not about to give Mikhail Powers a sound bite. Maeve and I exchange glances as I drum my fingers on the table. I can’t figure Janae out. Most days, I’m not sure why she sits with us when we must be a constant reminder of Simon.
Unless it’s to hear conversations like the one we just had.
“I gotta go,” Cooper says abruptly, as though he’s used up his allotted non-Jake time. He lifts his tray, where the bulk of his lunch lies untouched, and smoothly makes his way to his usual table.
So our crew is back to being all girls, and stays that way for the rest of lunch. The only other guy who’d sit with us never bothers making an appearance in the cafeteria. But I pass Nate in the hallway afterward, and all the questions bubbling in my brain about Simon, Leah, and Janae disappear when he gives me a fleeting grin.
Because God, it’s beautiful when that boy smiles.
Addy
Friday, October 19, 11:12 a.m.
It’s hot on the track, and I shouldn’t feel like running very hard. It’s only gym class, after all. But my arms and legs pump with unexpected energy as my lungs fill and expand, as if all my recent bike riding has given me reserves that need a release. Sweat beads my forehead and pastes my T-shirt to my back.
I feel a jolt of pride as I pass Luis—who, granted, is barely trying—and Olivia, who’s on the track team. Jake’s ahead of me and the idea of catching him seems ridiculous because obviously Jake is much faster than me, and bigger and stronger too, and there’s no way I can gain on him except I am. He’s not a speck anymore; he’s close, and if I shift lanes and keep this pace going I can almost, probably, definitely—
My legs fly out from under me. The coppery taste of blood fills my mouth as I bite into my lip and my palms slam hard against the ground. Tiny stones shred my skin, embedding in raw flesh and exploding into dozens of tiny cuts. My knees are in agony and I know before I see thick red dots on the ground that my skin’s burst open on both of them.
“Oh no!” Vanessa’s voice rings with fake concern. “Poor thing! Her legs gave out.”
They didn’t. While my eyes were on Jake, someone’s foot hooked my ankle and brought me down. I have a pretty good idea whose, but can’t say anything because I’m too busy trying to suck air into my lungs.
“Addy, are you okay?” Vanessa keeps her fake voice on as she kneels next to me, until she’s right next to my ear and whispers, “Serves you right, slut.”
I’d love to answer her, but I still can’t breathe.
When our gym teacher arrives Vanessa backs off, and by the time I have enough air to talk she’s gone. The gym teacher inspects my knees, turns my hands over, clucks at the damage. “You need the nurse’s office. Get those cuts cleaned up and some antibiotics on you.” She scans the crowd that’s gathered around me and calls, “Miss Vargas! Help her out.”