The Herd(82)

“I miss Eleanor,” I said. Even if she was ruthless; even if she’d threatened Cameron, and Mikki and Hana before him, in order to keep Jinny’s death a secret. She’d inspired us, made us feel sparkling and special and proud. That was a gift, even if it came with a lifetime of impersonating goodness, of being an impostor. Eleanor, unlike the rest of us mortals, didn’t give a shit what others thought, and for that we were all more than willing to adore her.

“I miss her too,” Mikki murmured, and Hana echoed her. I looked around and saw that they meant it, that their sorrow matched mine, and somehow this helped. Cleaning up her parents’ kitchen on Christmas Eve Eve, we all took on a third of the grief.

Mikki looped the dishtowel on its hook and walked upstairs. Staring at the sparkling kitchen, I registered that cottony end-of-day fatigue, more drained than sleepy, as if my body were eager to let today end.

“I’m going to go too,” I announced, then headed down the hall. But once I’d gotten ready for bed, I crept upstairs and knocked on Hana’s door. I found her and Mikki sitting on the floor, old books—children’s classics and Gloria Steinem and yearbooks—scattered around them.

I sat cross-legged and picked up a yearbook. Eleanor’s senior year, her photo bright-eyed and lovely. Below it, her chosen quote was from (who else?) Frida Kahlo: “I often have more sympathy for carpenters, cobblers, etc., than for that whole stupid, supposedly civilized herd of windbags known as cultivated people.”

“I wonder if she felt like she created a monster,” I mused. “Like, she wanted to build this feminist utopia, and then she accidentally made this—this thing that was even more bougie and see-and-be-seen than the boys’ club bullshit she was trying to get away from. ‘Windbags.’?” I swiveled the book toward Hana and Mikki and pointed at the quote. “I was a tech reporter—Titan is run by Silicon Valley bros. So for them, acquiring a feminist company like the Herd would be a great PR move. But for Eleanor, for her original vision…”

Mikki looked up. “I bet an acquisition like that opens you up to scrutiny. Maybe she felt like someone was close to figuring out what happened in college, and that’s why she had to get away.”

It struck me: I’d been investigating Eleanor myself, and I’d had no clue. This sparked in my chest a flicker of something bright: absurdity? Humiliation? Laughter, even?

Hana leaned back. “We’re going to talk to Stephanie when she gets back from India. At the very least, they’re delaying the acquisition, she said. Maybe she can talk to Titan about increasing diversity and expanding their scholarship program and stuff.”

“Good idea,” I said. “I know Titan uses diversity consultants.”

She grinned. “You know more about this stuff than we do. You should talk to Stephanie with us.”

“I’d like that.”

Mikki pulled the yearbook off my lap and smiled at Eleanor’s headshot. “This is what she looked like when we met. The day we moved into the dorms.” She tapped the page. “I thought she was so grown-up. So beautiful and articulate and smart—you, too, Hana. I couldn’t believe you two wanted to hang out with me.”

I gave her arm a gentle punch. “That’s funny, ’cause when I first got to know you and Eleanor, I had the same thought. Only about you. I was this dorky teenager and for some reason you let me hang around.”

“That’s honestly how I felt—here I was this weird kid from North Carolina who grew up splitting Hamburger Helper with my four siblings. But then”—her lips cracked into the tiniest smile—“Eleanor liked me. Took me under her wing. You, too, Hana. I was like—I dunno. Your arty friend. Some hipster flair.”

“Hey, you weren’t just…a token.” Hana frowned and I wondered if she and I were thinking the same thing: a bit odd for Hana to have to reassure blond-haired, blue-eyed Mikki here.

“No, I loved it.” The yearbook’s slick pages hissed softly as she flipped through them. “It didn’t even bother me when Eleanor would occasionally, like, ask me to put her name on an attendance sheet for her or look over her stats homework. Which meant…finishing it.”

I reared my chin back. “Really?”

She shrugged. “I was the outsider, and she was so casual about it. I kind of figured…I guess this is how it works in the real world? If I want to run in these circles? Which I really, really did.”

Hana and I exchanged a look over Mikki’s hunched shoulders. She felt like an outsider?

“I’m sorry you felt that way,” Hana finally said. “You know we love you.”

“If anything, I’ve always been jealous of how you can march to the beat of your own drum,” I added.

Hana nodded. “You don’t need anyone’s approval, and meanwhile I’m constantly trying to talk people into loving me.”

“Same here,” I said. “Only I’m trying to…impress them into loving me.” I rubbed my palm against Mikki’s back and she jumped, then looked up and gave us both a small smile.

“Thanks. Sometimes I convince myself I’m the only one who feels like she’s faking it.”

“Sweetie. Not at all.” Hana crawled forward and hugged her, and I wrapped my arms around both of them.