Good Girls Lie(25)

“You scared me, Vanessa.”

“Are you okay? You look like you’ve been crying.”

It’s the nicest tone Vanessa has ever used with me. I have been crying, I realize, tears are bubbling over the edges of my eyes and running unchecked down my face. I sniff and scrub them away.

“I’m fine. It’s time?”

“Yes. You’ll tell us everything, won’t you?” Kind Vanessa is confusing. Vanessa whiplash, I’m starting to think of the girl’s mood swings.

“I will.” I open the laptop long enough to log out of everything and shut off the VPN, wondering briefly what the Honor Code would say about such a thing. Surely there is a difference between protecting my privacy and deceiving the school’s IP filters. I plug it in and take the envelope with my name on it from the desk gingerly.

“Off I go.”

“Go with God,” Vanessa replies dryly.

In the hall, I can hear voices to my left, toward the stairs. Camille and Piper are standing there, whispering behind their hands. They stop when I approach, both smiling tremulously. It feels like I’m being led to the guillotine with friendly witnesses amassed to see me along the way, which is just stupid. I’m going to speak with my bully, get this situation dealt with once and for all. I will not spend term looking over my shoulder, waiting for Becca and her minions to make my life hell. I just won’t. I’ve already been through enough this year. I refuse to be a victim any longer.

I give the girls an ironic smile, a brief salute, and step through the steel door into the stairwell. The first set of stairs is uneventful, but the second flight is blocked by two identically bored, sweatshirted, messy-bun-topped girls sitting on the last step. These are the twins I saw following Becca around that fated first day. Camille said their names are Amanda and Miranda and no one can tell them apart, even their mother, who is chief of staff to a corporate bigwig and isn’t around enough to worry about it. In the murky darkness, I definitely can’t see a characteristic or feature that allows me to distinguish between them.

One says, “Finally. Come here.”

“Why?”

“Because we have to blindfold you, idiot,” the other says. “You’re not allowed to see the seniors’ hall. It’s bad luck.”

I don’t like the idea of being blindfolded at all, and my heartbeat kicks up a notch.

“We aren’t going to hurt you,” the first girl says. “You’ve been summoned. You have an invitation. And you don’t want to keep Becca waiting. Come on.”

I turn reluctantly and try not to bolt as the strip of cloth is tied around my head. It is black velvet, thick and close, and I can’t see anything.

They lead me the rest of the way, soft hands, murmuring “step here,” “watch out,” “we’re turning now.”

One more set of short stairs and the air changes completely. Musty, evergreen, overlaid with the scent of bleach. A gentle coolness on my face; there is a window open, and the night air in the mountains already holds the hint of fall. My nose twitches, I smell marijuana, a scent as familiar to me as my strawberry shampoo. Someone is getting high in the attics. Naughty, naughty.

The hands leave my arms, and the door closes quietly behind me. I am alone.



19

THE COMMONS

But I’m not alone.

The voice comes from my right. “You can take it off now.”

I rip off the blindfold, relieved.

The room is dark, but my eyes have adjusted. I’m in a large space, windowed along one wall, with a sloping ceiling. Sofas and chairs and oversize beanbags are scattered throughout. The windows are open, and the mountains are shadows outside, huge and ominous, their very presence pressing in on me.

A few lights shine in the distance; fireflies still dance among the trees. It is beautiful and terrible at once, and fear skitters through my body. I instinctively take a step backward. The open windows—it is a long fall to the ground.

“What is this place?” My voice is too quiet, my breath shallow. It is claustrophobic, this vast expanse before me closing in through the night.

Becca Curtis flicks a lighter and sets it to a candle, then steps out of the shadows with it in her hand.

“The Commons. It’s a study room. It’s quiet here. We’re all very studious, you know.”

In the candlelight, Becca’s green eyes are a bit bloodshot. Has she been the one smoking? Surely pot isn’t allowed here, even among the vaunted seniors.

“Thank you for coming,” Becca says conversationally. “I wouldn’t have blamed you for dismissing the summons out of hand.”

“I had a choice? Then, by all means, I’ll bid you goodnight.”

Becca laughs. “Ash. Stay. We should talk.”

“About what?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No. I’ve heard you’re quite brilliant.”

“Hmm. Do I look fat?”

“It’s dark, but no. You don’t.”

“Then your insult was not only ill-advised but inaccurate and illogical.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sit.” Becca takes a chair, pats the sofa cushion nearest her. She sets the candle on the coffee table. I carefully lower myself, muscles clenched in case I need to flee. I don’t like this place at all.