Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(63)

Jamie turns, and when he sees me, his face darkens.

Then he swivels back and says, “I’ll see you guys later,” and they pat him on the back before rushing down the hallway.

“What?” he asks.

I fold my arms to hide my shaking fingers. I haven’t stopped shaking since yesterday.

“Thank you for what you did yesterday, with the posters,” I say quietly.

I heard Jamie and some of the football team took the posters down. It was a nice but random gesture. He’s still an ass, but I want to thank him.

“No problem. Is that all?” he replies coldly.

Why is he acting like I’m his enemy again, after his so-called apology on Tuesday?

“About the posters … I w-wanted to ask.” I clear my throat. “That was from your party last year, wasn’t it? I’ve only worn that dress once,” I say.

He shrugs. “Maybe.”

“Do you know what happened that night? The picture was really … weird … I don’t remember a lot.”

Some people enter the hall, glaring at us and walking away quickly, like they don’t want to be too close.

“Nope,” he says brusquely.

The picture from that night makes me feel strange. I’ve never seen it before, and I have no memory of it. Those dolls … they remind me of those dolls from my dreams, the ones that look like her.

Why would someone release this picture now, if they’ve had it for an entire year? What else happened that night?

“Are you done with your questions?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Has there been another blast? I might just be being paranoid, but—”

“They’re talking about you and the accident,” Jamie says smoothly.

I feel a punch to my stomach.

“What!?” I squeak out.

“Aces is hinting at it, at least…”

“What about you?” If Aces is talking about it, they can’t only be speaking about me.

“Why would they mention me, Chi?” Jamie says casually.

I can’t breathe. The pain in my stomach worsens.

“What?” I say a little louder. “I didn’t do anything!” Jamie was there. Jamie was driving the car; he was supposed to be watching the road, and he hit her—

“Didn’t you hit her? Leave the body? That’s called a hit-and-run, Chi … People go down for that.” Jamie’s voice burns my ears.

I see blood, I see her blond matted curls, I see her wide eyes, I see her limp body—I want to cry.

“You knocked her down, Jamie, you did that! You drove away, you didn’t let us call an ambulance or the cops—”

“Sure about that, Chi?” he asks with a smile, giving me a look that crumples everything inside. It was a look I always thought meant mischief. But now … it feels like hate.

The candy store … Aces knowing so much … The way Jamie is speaking. Before it seemed impossible, seeing as he claimed to love Belle, but maybe he would jeopardize their relationship just to hurt me. Like I said, love and hate are twisted versions of each other. Maybe his secret hatred of me outweighed whatever he felt for Belle.

Jamie turns, stopping in his tracks when I stammer:

“I-it’s you, isn’t it?” There’s a slight tremor in my fingers as I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear. “You’re Aces. You set me up in the candy store; you’ve been spreading my secrets around school. You’re the only one who could have known all those things about me. You, for whatever reason, sabotaged your own relationship with Belle … But what did Devon ever do to you?”

Because Jamie is—was—my best friend. Sometimes best friends mess up, fall out. Sometimes we make each other so angry it turns into resentment, and from resentment, hate. The way he looks at me now, I can see it is definitely hate. For whatever reason, Jamie hates me … But Devon …

“Is it because we’re Black?”

There is nothing except Jamie and me. No hallway. No whispers. Just us.

“Calling me a racist?” he asks.

Growing up, I realized quite quickly that people hate being called racist more than they hate racism itself. Which is why I’m not surprised when Jamie pauses, places a hand in his pocket, and slowly swivels back around as he speaks. On his face there is this unsettling smile that grows wider the longer I stare at it.

He steps forward. “Would I have touched you if I hated Black chicks?”

My body vibrates, anger boiling my blood, vision blurring. I push him, hard, and he stumbles back. Laughter escapes his grinning mouth as he catches himself.

Why the hell is he laughing?

“I’m not Aces … but I’m a bit confused here, Chi.” He steps closer, the smirk replaced by furrowed eyebrows. “Isn’t this what you wanted? Since freshman year?”

“What?” I ask. I can’t stop staring at Jamie’s face, at how easily he makes such drastically different emotions appear. It’s like he’s got a switch somewhere on his body.

“For people to know your name, for everyone to talk about you. Popularity?” His confused expression morphs into pity. “Now you have it, Chi.” He moves forward again, so close to me I can smell his strong cologne. “How, after all of this”—he gestures around the now almost-full hallway, a grin plastered to his pasty face—“could anyone ever forget the great Chiamaka Adebayo?”