They Wish They Were Us(66)

“Well, why did you anyway?”

Kara’s face softens. For a second she looks like a normal high school girl, not an art princess of New York City. “I miss her,” she says softly. “I miss . . . all of it. The summers out east with everyone. The way Shay snorted when she laughed. How she made the best chocolate chip cookies. How she listened, like, really listened. No one in Manhattan is like that. She was my best friend. And now she’s gone. Everything that tied us together is just . . .” She inhales deeply. “Mom still sees the Arnolds sometimes, when they come back to town. But they don’t want to see me. They say I remind them too much of her. It’s too painful.”

My shoulders tense. I never thought of Kara having a real relationship with Shay. It always seemed so performative, so superficial. But maybe their bond was real. As real as mine. Which means Kara’s been hurting all this time, too.

Kara turns her chin up and her voice becomes clipped and polished again. “But let’s get this over with. You have something that belongs to me?”

I fish the note out from my pocket. My fingers tremble as I extend my arm to Kara. She snatches the letter from my grasp and her eyes scan the page, searching frantically. She crosses her legs and wiggles her foot incessantly.

Rachel’s eyes meet mine and we wait another minute for Kara to speak.

But she’s still silent, reading Shaila’s cursive over and over again.

“Well?” I ask.

“Can you guys give me a minute?” Kara asks softly without lifting her gaze. Her eyes are glossy. “Some privacy?”

Rachel purses her lips, like she’s trying not to show any emotion. “Fine. I’m gonna get some air. Jill?”

I shake my head. “Can I use your bathroom?”

Kara points to the stairs in the hall. “Second floor, third door on the right.”

Rachel retreats to the stoop and I climb the stairs, checking out the photographs that line the wall. They’re so stunning, there’s no way these were taken by amateurs. There’s Kara as a naked toddler, beside her mom in a designer gown and diamonds. And again at her sweet sixteen staring at the camera with a smoldering glare and a perfect complexion. Guess she missed that whole awkward phase thing.

I get to the second floor and count the doors, looking for the bathroom. But I stop when I catch a glimpse of something purple through a door left slightly ajar. It’s Shaila’s bedspread. Kara must have the same one. I wonder if they picked them out together.

Before I can think too hard about it, I push the door open with my fingertips.

Kara’s room is immaculate. It looks like it belongs to a chic twentysomething. Everything is marble or glass. Necklaces decorated with precious stones lie flat in a jewelry case on top of a massive dresser. Black-and-white photographs hang on the walls. They’re signed by Robert Mapplethorpe. I have to stop myself from laughing, it’s all too wild.

The only thing that signals she’s in high school is the varsity tennis trophy sitting on a top shelf.

I tiptoe around her bed, trying not to make noise against the hardwood floors, until I’m at her nightstand next to the wall. My stomach drops. There in a simple black frame is a photo of Kara and Shaila. They must be in elementary school because Shay looks younger than I ever knew her. The camera is trained on them, but they face each other, sitting on a wooden bench with the beach in the background. They’re each holding ice cream cones and smile with wide, messy mouths. They look like two girls who share secrets, who keep them, too.

Kara may seem like she has her shit together, but I’m guessing she’s just as messed up from all of this as I am.

“You lost up there?” Kara calls from downstairs.

I inhale sharply. “Coming!” I head for the stairs, trying to leave the door just as it was when I entered.

“Weirdo,” she says when I return to the living room. Rachel’s back, propped up in a velvet teal armchair.

“So what do you think?” Rachel asks.

“Whatever Shaila told me was in confidence,” Kara says, lifting her chin. “It’s the least I can do for her now.”

“Cut the bullshit,” Rachel says. “Just tell us what you know.”

“Why should I?”

“Because we have evidence that Graham is innocent, that someone else killed Shaila.”

A flicker of shock passes through Kara’s face, but it’s gone in an instant.

“Because you’ve known Graham and me just as long as you knew Shaila,” Rachel continues, “and you owe allegiance to him as much as you owe it to her. You couldn’t save Shaila, but you can try and help save Graham.”

“Shit,” Kara says, biting her perfect red lip. “My mom would kill me.” She rubs her palms over her face and leans back into the couch. “Shaila was cheating,” she says with an unsteady voice.

“Do you know who she was with?” Rachel asks.

“She never told me.” Kara jabs a finger at Shaila’s handwriting. “Just like she says here, he told her not to tell and she didn’t.”

“That’s it?” Rachel asks. “That’s all you know?” Her voice is frantic, desperate.

Kara sighs and leans forward. She rests her elbows on her knees and her dark hair falls around her face. “Fuck it,” she mutters. “There was one thing. Toward the end of the year, just a few weeks before she died, Shay said this guy was getting a little creepy. He was a little too into her. Obsessed, almost.”