Good Girls Lie(70)

His eyes are hooded when he strides off into the grounds. She can see by the set of his shoulders she’s wounded him. Maybe their fling isn’t as casual as she thinks.

Back inside, she holds up a peremptory hand to her mother. “I know what you’re going to say. Trust me, he’s a good kid. Devoted to the school, despite the way you’ve treated him.”

“I don’t need to remind you his father is the reason we’re in this mess.”

“His father has nothing to do with this.”

“You’re headmistress now, aren’t you, Ford? That’s enough of a mess for me.”

You will never be a proper headmistress to this school.

“Now, there’s the mother I know and love. Thank you for the insult. You can go now. I’ll handle things from here.”

“Ford, I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did. And I’m sick and tired of your attitude. You fucked up, Mother. You tried to cover up your knowledge of the situation and it got a girl murdered. This is totally different, and I’m handling it. It’s time for you to leave. Don’t bother me again.”



52

THE SLIGHT

I’m gritty-eyed with lack of sleep and bone tired. Because of the emergency convocation, I wasn’t at Becca’s door at seven as instructed. But I sat with Becca in the chapel, watching her hands. She needs to file her nails, they are ragged and broken after last night’s excesses in the cabin.

When the convocation ends, I calmly follow Becca to the arboretum. A cigarette is offered and accepted with a nod. There are no words. There is no touching. I honestly don’t know what to say. I don’t know what she wants. And I’m too tired to explain myself, to smooth her ruffled feathers.

Becca, too, looks exhausted. Halfway through the smoke, she says, “This is going to be a massive clusterfuck, you know.”

I’m not sure if she’s speaking rhetorically, but I wade in. “Camille’s suicide? Yes, it’s quite a mess.”

“No, stupid. Having cops on campus. They’re going to be looking at everything. I’m supposed to meet someone tonight. I’ll have to reschedule.”

I’m surprised to feel a random spark of jealousy. “Someone like who?”

“Just someone. I’ll have to warn him off.”

“Oh, you mean Rumi? I know he’s providing you with—”

Becca turns on me, eyes blazing. “Shut. Your. Fucking. Mouth. How stupid are you?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yes, you are sorry. God, Ash. You’re going to get us all kicked out if you don’t start acting smarter. I really thought you were different. You’re supposed to be a genius rebel. I thought I could trust you.”

“You can, Becca. I’m no rat.”

“You’re not much of anything as far as I can tell. And in case you have it in that pretty little head to say something about last night, if you say anything to anyone, I will bury you. Am I clear?”

Becca takes one last huge drag from her cigarette and drops the butt on the ground. She walks off, leaving it smoldering.

Mic drop.

I squat down and put it out, scraping it through the earth. My fingers come back sticky with Becca’s lip gloss. I run my finger over my lower lip, smearing the remnants on my mouth. It tastes like cherry and old cigarettes.

I take a last drag of my ciggy, put it out, and bury the butts. I can at least help cover our tracks.

Becca is almost out of the arboretum now. The leaves are starting to fall, and there’s a clearing toward the school where I can see people coming into and out of the forest. I can catch up to her if I get a move on.

I start after her but pull up when another girl steps out of the woods. I can’t see who it is, but Becca talks to her for a moment, hands her something. I hurry forward but by the time I catch up, Becca is alone again.

“Who was that?”

Becca ignores me, strides out of the forest and up the path to the dining hall. I catch her by the door.

“Becca—”

“Just shut up, okay. Keep your mouth shut and we will all be fine.”

Becca storms into the building, and I trail behind, uncomfortable being ignored. At the table, I start to pull out my chair, but Becca puts a hand on my arm.

“What are you doing?”

“Having breakfast, like normal. Though I don’t know if I can eat.”

Becca tosses her head like the Thoroughbred she is. She is a different person now. Cold. Aloof. Mildly aggravated and disgusted, like I’m a hair that’s landed on her fork.

She waves a derisive hand in dismissal.

“Fly away, little Swallow. You missed your appointment this morning, so you don’t get to sit with us anymore. Go play with your own friends. You aren’t welcome here.”

I feel my jaw begin to fall, snap my teeth together so hard they click. Becca has already taken her seat and is immediately flanked by the twins, one of whom pushes me rudely as she scoots by for the coveted chair to Becca’s left.

Tears threaten, but I blink them back and head to my old table with Vanessa and Piper and the rest of the sophomores. As I approach, they start shooting me looks. It’s clear they’ve been talking about me. They saw Becca’s little power play. They have closed ranks. I am no longer one of them.