People Like Us(14)

Brie nods. “Maybe people will drop it now that Tai has bigger things to worry about.”

“But, like . . . Notorious? B.I.G. or what?”

Brie bursts out laughing. “More like R.B.G. I think. Maddy isn’t exactly a hip-hop enthusiast.”

“What’s Notorious R.B.G.?”

Her smile fades. “Ruth Bader Ginsburg,” she says hurriedly. “The Supreme Court justice.”

“What does that have to do with Maddy?”

“Ask Tai.” Brie sighs, sinking her heart-shaped face into her hand. “I hate her nicknames. Can we just drop Maddy?”

I don’t get Brie sometimes. She has zero enemies, and she rarely talks shit about anyone. But when she does, it’s always the last person I would ever guess, and in such a roundabout way that I can never figure out what exactly they did to piss her off. It’s like she’s nudging me to guess so she doesn’t have to dirty her hands. I’m not up to playing the game tonight. Luckily, I don’t have to.

“Have the police followed up with you yet?”

I blank for a moment. “I didn’t call the police.”

“Good. Because that would make you look really weird. Maybe guilty weird. Just play it cool.”

It occurs to me that she isn’t referring to the revenge website, but the detective from the crime scene.

“So you think she’ll follow up?”

Brie nods. “We were the only witnesses.” My expression must reflect exactly how I feel about facing the police, because she pushes her tray aside and looks into my eyes. “Repeat after me: I am not going to prison.”

I flick a balled-up paper straw wrapper at her. “You are not going to prison.”

“Every one of us has an alibi.”

“It’s not exactly an airtight alibi,” I point out. “We split up for a half hour between the dance and the lake. Tricia called her boyfriend, Tai went for more drinks, I went to change out of my sexy boots—”

Brie rolls her eyes. “Then we’d all be suspects. If there was a homicide. But there wasn’t.”

“Then why would they still be investigating?”

“Because it’s been less than twenty-four hours, Kay. If that detective calls us again, we just all say we were together the whole time. Problem solved.”

“Well, make sure everyone gets the memo, Brie.” I hesitate. “Didn’t it seem like that detective was kind of singling me out a little?”

“Paranoid. Anyway, I told you not to take this investigation too seriously.” She pushes her chair back and glances across the dining hall. “I’m going to go talk to Tai.”

I follow her gaze and see Nola lying down on a bench at the side of the room, laptop open on her chest. She raises a shoeless foot in an odd sort of wave, displaying black paisley stockings under her skirt.

Brie looks back at me quizzically.

I wave my fork at Nola and avoid Brie’s eyes. “Homework help.”

“Why didn’t you ask me?”

“You lack the requisite skills.” I grin flirtatiously.

“Is that so?” She shoots another glance at Nola. “Interesting.”

“She’s not that weird.”

“Since when?”

“You’re the one who said we should be nicer to people.”

“To Necro?” Brie whispers.

I glance around the dining hall to make sure Nola isn’t within earshot. “Tai came up with that nickname.”

“You used it.”

“You laughed.”

She drops her eyes. “It wasn’t funny.”

“It was also ages ago, and no one says it anymore. Except you, apparently. So, do you have a problem with me studying with Nola?”

Brie laughs suddenly and I feel better. I’m physically incapable of seeing her smile without smiling back. It’s biochemical. “God, no. I just feel bad. It’s completely self-serving on your part,” she points out.

“Not so,” I say. “We made a deal. I’m—” I pause. Brie wouldn’t approve of me persuading Coach to kick someone off the team to make room for Nola. “Giving her soccer lessons.”

She looks thoroughly unconvinced, but raises a glass of milk to clink mine. “Well played, Kay.” She takes a thoughtful sip. “But cross the hacker and it’s your funeral.”

At the next table, Abigail Hartford stops talking and glares at Brie for her poor choice of words, and then quickly looks down, blushing. People don’t glare at Brie. She’s too nice. But Brie looks mortified.

“You know what I mean,” she whispers. She stands. “Okay, I’m going back to the other table.”

“Yes. Speaking of which. Is Justine coming to the memorial tomorrow?”

Brie shakes her head. “I’m not subjecting her to that. It was bad enough just walking across campus this morning. Try cramming that festival of mourning into Irving Chapel.”

“Should be fun.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to ask her about an Easterly guy. He does theater. You wouldn’t know him, but she definitely does.”

“Try me, sexy.”

“Okay. His name is Greg. He’s tall, sleeve tattoos, annoying attitude, I think he might have known Jessica.”