People Like Us(24)

I call Greg that night after a bit of studying. My first instinct was to call Brie to tell her about Spencer and Tricia, but if I don’t force myself to study, it doesn’t happen, and I’m anxious to settle up my debt with Nola.

Greg answers the phone, and I hear music blaring in the background. For a moment my breath catches in my throat. When Todd died, I stole his iPod and listened to his music nonstop—in class, in my sleep, while I ran endless miles. This album, xx, by the band The xx, was always the last to play, and when it stopped, so did I. It was so hard to press play again, to restart, to get out of bed.

“Hello, Kay Donovan. Am I under arrest?”

I breathe again. “No. I have a favor to ask.”

He lets out a short laugh. “I didn’t know we were on favor-asking terms.”

“We’re not, necessarily, but we have a lot in common. We were both cuckolded by a lewd encounter between Spencer Morrow and Jessica Lane.”

“That’s a lighthearted way of discussing a pretty heavy matter.”

“Yes, but it’s life, and if you get too serious, you drown in it.” I stretch out on my bed and kick my legs up against the wall, my feet landing on a poster of the U.S. Women’s Soccer team.

“You’re quite the philosopher.”

“Not really. To the point. I would like to ask you on a date.”

There’s a pause.

“Not with me. With someone a little more you. She’s quirky. And pretty. She has a certain je ne sais quoi.”

“You haven’t told me anything concrete.”

“She speaks a little French, does a little ballet, and is a mean hacker.”

He is silent and I check the phone to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Kay, you remember my ex-girlfriend just died, right?”

“Like I said, this would be a favor.” I search desperately for a more convincing argument. “It’ll be a good distraction. Get out of the house. Turn off that depressing music.”

“Don’t quit soccer for cheerleading, Kay.”

“That came out wrong. When my brother died, the single, solitary thing that kept me sane was going out and doing stuff. I know grief is different for everyone, but...”

His voice is softer when he speaks again. “Sorry about your brother. I’m not a doer, though. I’m also a boring date.”

“I think you would be a thrilling date,” I say.

I hear a stifled laugh and blush involuntarily. It was a stupid thing to say. “You know I’m a person of suspicion in a murder case, right?”

“It’s not officially a murder case, is it?”

“I don’t know. They didn’t use that word when they questioned me, but I’ve already been called in twice. That’s not a good sign.”

I hold in a sigh of relief. If they’re focusing on Greg, they’re not focusing on us. Maybe Morgan will never follow up after all. But I still owe Nola her date. “Also, I’m not greatly attached to the bachelorette in question.”

He laughs. “You’re a terrible salesperson, Kay Donovan.”

“Maybe. But again. She speaks a little French and does a little ballet. And she’s artsy, like you.”

“Well, artsy people do congregate together. We’re like crows.”

A murder of crows. “So, do we have a deal?”

“No. That’s completely one-sided. What do I get?”

I think. “Name something.”

“Let’s talk again. Not a date,” he says quickly. “But let’s meet up at some point and compare notes and scars. Will that work?”

I nod slowly, considering. “Yes.” It will be an opportunity to size him up again, and to dig a little deeper about Jessica’s blog. “But first, you have to follow through with Nola.”

“Nola. Okay. Give me her info.”



* * *



? ? ?

THE NEXT DAY, classes resume, and it feels strange being back in a classroom, taking notes and trying to focus as if the past weekend had never happened. Friday seems like a month ago. But it’s only been three days since Jessica died. It feels surreal to be going through the motions of an ordinary day, and I text Tricia several times to see if she’s still speaking to me. She doesn’t answer, and she isn’t at lunch. Brie tells me she wasn’t in trig or Comp Lit, either. She’s still on the class roster, though, and Hannigan is in his office when I walk by, so the task hasn’t magically resolved itself. By the end of lunch, I have fifteen minutes before the timer on the revenge blog runs out, and I begin to panic. Even if I do somehow force Tricia to drop out of school now, her name isn’t going to disappear that quickly.

I step outside and call Nola.

“Busy.”

“Don’t hang up.”

“Hook me in one line.”

“I have fifteen minutes left to get rid of both Tricia and Hannigan and I need your help. Fourteen.”

Nola saunters out of the dining hall, spots me, and waves. “That’s two lines. Why the change of heart?”

“Because I’m desperate,” I whisper. I feel terrible. But this is a temporary fix. Hannigan has to go. There’s no question about that. But then something occurs to me. Tricia’s name just has to disappear. Not Tricia herself. The program is only going to register her name being removed, and Nola can totally make that happen. “I need you to take Tricia’s name off the class roster.”