People Like Us(84)

30


Bianca was the original victim.

After turning the evidence in and giving my witness statement, I was taken straight to the emergency room to have my head checked out. Apparently, I was very lucky. No broken skin, no sign of concussion. Just a mess of broken glass in my hair and a massive, aching bruise.

I called Greg first from the hospital to tell him it was over. He held his breath while I told him who killed Jessica and then he cried into the phone. I keep forgetting how much he loved her. I sent two short texts to Spencer and Brie letting them know I was alive but out of commission for the time being. Then I called Bernie and Mrs. Kent. I don’t know why, but I felt guilty. Bernie had paid me, basically, to be Nola’s friend. To keep her out of trouble, maybe. And I’d delivered her to the police. Whatever the reason, I called them on my walk back to campus and let them know Nola was being arrested for murder and it was partially my fault.

They apologized. To me.

Then they asked me what I really knew about Bianca, and of course, I said nothing.

If I’d been there when they made the arrest, I would have found out that Nola is Bianca. She started calling herself Nola when she came to Bates. Completely changed her clothes, her hair, even her accent. She was tired of being Bianca, I guess. The way the Kents told it, it was some terrible secret.

But it’s kind of the story of my life.

Nola is also a pathological liar. There’s basically no way to know if anything she told me, ever, is true. The Kents invited me to come visit them again, whenever I like. It was weird.

I spend the rest of the afternoon hiding out in my room until I see the last of the police cruisers leaving campus. Part of me wants to find Brie and tell her how everything went down over coffee and croissants, and part of me wants to flee campus and drive around aimlessly with Spencer all night. But I don’t feel up to facing either of them. Both of them have the luxury of going back to normal now. I’ve been jolted off orbit and I’ll always be running to keep up.

Nola did manage one final act of revenge between the time I left her room and her arrest, and this one is going to leave shock waves. She emailed the Dear Valentine girl story to the entire school, to the press, and to Jessica’s family, claiming that Jessica was the victim. I read the story on seven news sites within an hour of returning from the police station. I’ve decided that I’m not going to defend myself. The real story is known to me, my remaining friends, Nola, and the police. Jessica’s parents will find out as the case unfolds. It’s not important that the community knows the truth. I did what I did, and so did the rest of us, and the fact that we did it to someone who ended up being a killer doesn’t lessen the fact that we did it. There will be fallout, too. I’m not going to get a top draft. My rep is for shit. My parents are just going to have to deal with that. Jessica is dead, and so is Maddy, and that’s an indirect result of my ego and lack of judgment. I’m going to carry the weight of what we did to Nola, of the repercussions it had on Jessica and Maddy, for the rest of my life. I’ll take comeuppance for $800, Alex.

By the time I finish the last of the articles, campus is still nearly deserted and I decide to go for a walk in the cold twilight. Most of the students will return tomorrow night, milking Thanksgiving break for all it’s worth. I’m glad for every moment of solitude. The sun is just gone by the time I reach the lake, with wisps of icy blue lining the horizon, the final remains of daylight. The dirt crunches under my sneakers, not frozen, but just on the cusp. My breath floats out in clouds. I pause at the place where we found Jessica and look down into the water. You would think there would be some marker, but there isn’t. It would be unsightly. It’s just water over water, next to water. I only know it because of the thornbush I decimated trying to rescue Brie from unknown horrors. Unknown at the time. Now we know.

I take my coat off and tuck it under the bushes. It’s a windless night, and the lake is smooth as polished stone. Stars scatter over the surface like snowflakes. I take off one shoe and sock and dip my foot in up to the ankle. It’s so cold, the pain is paralyzing, hypnotic. I kick off my other shoe.

I may not have killed Jessica, but I’ve done other things. Bad things. Maybe worse. And I’ve always been able to begin again, like I did when I came to Bates. It’s like Tricia said: Everyone has secrets. And truths are things you make, not things that happen. Like when I created Todd’s alibi when the pictures of Megan were sent on his phone.

And when I created Rob’s alibi when Todd was killed.

There are so many truths in tragedy. One truth that is indisputable is that the football game ended at ten, and the only reason it is indisputable is because so many people agree. A truth is only a truth because people say it, and continue to say it. Our car was parked close to the school, but I asked Todd to walk me to my bike, which I’d left at the playground, because that was the plan.

Rob and his friend Hayden were going to beat the shit out of Todd. It was fair. After Rob had shown me the evidence in his truck, he had said that everyone on that list killed Megan. I killed Megan. And I realized I had one chance to redeem myself. Rob agreed immediately. He and Hayden would wear ski masks, and I would run for help so it wouldn’t look like a setup. No weapons. No one would ever know. It was the perfect plan.

Of course Todd offered me a ride with his friends and I insisted that we walk because it was a nice night. Because that was the plan.