The Cheerleaders(83)

I lower myself to the curb, sit, and lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. If Brandon was dating Allie at the time of the murders, it doesn’t mean he’s involved. Carly had said Allie’s boyfriend’s friend was the one who was selling pills. He was the one Juliana was afraid of.

But Brandon knew. If Carly was telling the truth, Brandon was in the car when the other guy stopped to make a deal. Brandon helped his friend beat the shit out of the guy who ratted him out.

It was five years ago. People change.

A dueling voice in my head jumps in. He was still older than you are now. He knew better.

“It doesn’t matter,” I whisper it, as if saying it out loud will make it true. It doesn’t matter who Brandon was back then, because nothing is going on between Brandon and me anymore.

You made out with him in his car during the memorial.

I bury my face in my hands. Breathe deeply for a minute before I look up at Ginny. “Brandon was Allie’s boyfriend, and his best friend was the drug dealer. Carly didn’t say which one the pickup truck belonged to.”

“So what do we do?” Ginny says.

“I don’t know. We have no proof of anything. We have a rumor from Carly that Brandon was friends with a drug dealer who may have possibly killed Juliana and Susan. We have a dead man’s statement that he saw a pickup truck that night. And then a story about someone fighting with Juliana on the deck that the cops already think is a lie.” I rub my eyes. “Who’s going to believe us?”

Ginny’s mouth forms a line. Shouts of excitement echo in the alley behind us. People are filtering through it, heading for their cars parked in the lot.

“Congratulations!” A man accompanied by a trio of kids gives me a thumbs-up. It takes me a moment to remember the lei around my neck. When he and the kids are loaded into their car, I tear the lei off.

“I can’t do this,” I tell Ginny. “I can’t go to the game or the dance and act like everything is normal.”

“You have to,” she says. “There’s nothing we can do right now. You’re just going to make your mom and stepdad more worried about you.”

She’s right. My eyes prick with tears. “Can you come? I know you didn’t get a ticket to the dance, but you can come to Kelsey’s party.”

The faintest trace of a smile passes over Ginny’s lips. “Monica. That would be the exact opposite of acting like everything is normal.”



* * *



—

To everyone’s surprise, Sunnybrook defeats Shrewsbury 50 to 44. It’s the first homecoming game we’ve won in four years; as a result, the mood at the dance is even more raucous than normal. Three seniors are thrown out for showing up drunk, and all night teachers have to pry people off each other for violating the no-grinding rule.

Alexa is breathless on the ride back to her house, undaunted by the fact that Mrs. Coughlin reamed her out for dancing inappropriately with Joe Gabriel, even going so far as to threaten to tell Coach.

“I love him,” Alexa says, lowering the window and tilting her face to the cool night air. “I’m going to lick his face tonight.”

“You’re demented. He’s a douchebag.” Rach isn’t looking at either of us, her eyes on the road. She’s been quiet all day. It worries me; her being this moody means she’s more likely to get obliterated at Kelsey’s party.

They bicker all the way to Alexa’s about whether or not Joe Gabriel is a douchebag. I can’t keep up; Brandon won’t stop invading my thoughts. The look on his face when he saw me at the parade.

Was he just nervous, having me in proximity of his girlfriend? Or does he know I talked to Allie last week, and he’s panicking because I asked her about Carly Amato?

Rach, Alexa, and I head straight upstairs when we get to the Santiagos’. I park myself on the edge of Alexa’s bed, peeling off the glittery flats I wore to the dance. We’re staying here tonight; Alexa’s mom is always saying that she knows we drink, and if we’re going to do it anyway, she’d rather we have a safe ride home. Rachel and I don’t have chill moms; they think we’re sleeping at the Santiagos’ tonight and braiding each other’s hair or whatever.

Tom gave me a look and a sigh when I told him and my mom I was staying here.

While Rachel strips off her homecoming dress, replacing it with skinny jeans, I get my phone out of my purse. I have a missed text. I recognize the number as Brandon’s.





I try to control my breathing as I type out a response.





“I can’t wear this.” Rachel is studying herself in Alexa’s full-length mirror, running her hands over her glittery black tank top. “My boobs are falling out.”

“It’s that stupid juice cleanse.” Alexa is winding a lock of hair around her wave iron. My phone vibrates.





I pocket my phone, feeling sick. He knows I talked to Allie. If she told him everything, he may have put the pieces together. He might know I’ve been looking into the murders.

“Here. Wear this. It’s going to be freezing by the lake anyway.” Alexa tosses Rach a boatneck sweatshirt. She tugs it over her tank top. Examines herself in the mirror.

“Just don’t let anything happen to that one,” Alexa says, turning back to freshening up her waves. “I like it.”