People Like Us(26)

“How long does that take?”

“I don’t know, I never did it.”

She smirks. “Cute. To verify, you were never alone, for even a second, the entire night?”

Shit. “I went back to my room briefly to change my shoes before we met up at the lake.”

“Right around the time Jessica Lane was killed.”

“I didn’t know she was killed.” My eyes dart over to Dr. Klein again, but she is looking down at her desk.

“Now you know. Maybe knowing will help jog your memory.” Detective Morgan taps her pencil on her pad. “You were dating Spencer Morrow for quite a while.”

“Yes.” I get another awful flash of him with her again, of my Spencer with dead Jessica. Dead but animate, cold but passionate. Why do I always have to picture her dead with him?

“You broke up when he began seeing Jessica Lane.”

“I didn’t know it at the time.”

“You know it now?”

“I just found out.”

“Convenient.”

My face feels hot and my heart is pounding like it wants to burst out of my chest. I want to scream at Detective Morgan to fuck off. But that would just make me look worse.

“Just a couple more questions. When campus police officer Jennifer Biggs arrived on the scene, you told her not to touch anything because it was a crime scene, correct? There was a girl with slit wrists. Most people see that, they think suicide. What made you think crime scene?”

“I don’t know.” My voice creaks out in a dry whisper.

“Just now you acted surprised when I told you Jessica was murdered. But just before that you called her a victim and conjectured on how long it would take to murder someone. That’s quite a performance, Kay.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Is it true you’ve been in almost constant contact with Jessica’s ex-boyfriend, Greg Yeun, since her death?”

“Not constant.” I feel like I’m going to throw up. The room is spinning like a carousel, faster and faster.

“Were you in Jessica’s room the night she died?”

I shake my head and the room tilts sharply.

“Is there anything else you’d like to tell me? Anything at all?”

I open my mouth, dry heave, and then lean forward and vomit on the floor.



* * *



? ? ?

UP UNTIL THE whole murder incident, this year’s Skeleton Dance had been the best to date. As seniors, we ruled the scene. Tricia awed the room in her custom designer ball gown with her killer dance moves, and Cori dictated the playlist to the juniors assigned to the sound booth. The art club in charge of décor had completely transformed the ballroom into a glittering midnight forest swirling with mist and distorted shadows. Tai ran an underground cocktail bar from the bathroom, and Maddy flitted around taking pictures and uploading them to the event website while Brie danced, chatted, and took a selfie with virtually everyone in the room. Parties are always a little more difficult for me. I rarely settle into a function like my friends do. I feel like I need to be someone’s date or guest or I just kind of melt into the corners. Dressing up helps, though. As Daisy, I was able to identify a Gatsby type, a junior rugby player dressed in an expensive-looking suit.

I swirled over to her tipsily, ignoring the redhead she was talking to, and smiled my brightest Daisy smile. “Hello, Jay.”

She looked confused, but pleased at the attention. “Flapper.”

“Mrs. Daisy Buchanan.”

“Ah. Wrong Leo. Wolf of Wall Street.”

She offered me her hand, but I took the drink out of her other one—a ginger ale and lime with gin—downed it, and then dragged her onto the dance floor. “Dance with me, Jay,” I said, laying my head against her chest.

And she did. That’s the thing about Halloween, about costumes, about playing parts. By the end of the night we were making out in the bushes behind the ballroom, and Maddy was giggling and snapping pictures while Cori applauded and the Wolf of Wall Street, whoever she was, scrambled up, embarrassed, gathering her suit and apologizing for some reason. I yanked the phone out of Maddy’s hands and deleted the photos.

“I’m so sorry for my friends. Pictures are gone.” I showed the display screen and scrolled backward through the photos to prove it.

Wolf gave me an embarrassed smile. “Whatever. See you around.” She ducked back into the building, and I tossed Maddy the camera and dropped back onto the ground.

“You’re so bad.” Maddy giggled, collapsing next to me breathlessly and taking a swig from her glittering pink flask.

“Bad isn’t the word. Mildly scandalous.” Cori stretched her long, freckled legs up against the brick side of the building and laid her head in the grass. Cori belongs in Gatsby. She’s a born aristocrat, a golfer, a coarse and blunt personality with sharp features and a sharper wit. She can be too bristly and opinionated at times and it would be easy to dislike her if she didn’t decide immediately to befriend you, but she did decide, so we’re solid. “Rest in peace, Spencer.”

“Have you even heard from him?” Maddy asked.

I shook my head. “Spencer had his chance.”

“How do you just . . .” Maddy sighed and gazed up at the sky. “Make someone like you?”