One of Us Is Next(94)
A pink tinge washes across her cheeks. “It’s just—Sean thought we’d get in trouble, you know? He said it would be better if people thought it was just a shortcut and then we wouldn’t have to explain…everything.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Including what the game said about you and Emma.”
“Sean didn’t care about that,” I say. That might be rude, too, but I know it’s true.
“No,” she admits. “I did, though.” I believe her. “And Sean didn’t mean to hit Knox that hard, honestly. He panicked.”
“So he never thought Knox was running after Brandon,” I say. Just to be sure.
Jules’s mouth twists. “No. He was freaking out, and Knox was…there.”
“Are you going to get into trouble?” I ask. “For lying, I mean?”
She sighs. “The police aren’t happy with us, but we’re so not the main issue right now. They told us that as long as we cooperate going forward, we’ll be okay.” She licks her lips and lowers her eyes. “Is Emma—”
I don’t let her finish. “I can’t really talk about Emma.”
Jules nods quickly, almost like she’s relieved. “I understand.”
She probably doesn’t, though. It’s not only because I’m not allowed to say anything that hasn’t been approved by Emma’s new lawyer—who I’m supposed to meet for the first time later today—but because I don’t know anything the rest of the world hasn’t already heard. I’ve barely seen or spoken to Emma since I left her hospital room Friday night.
I know what she told Detective Mendoza. And I know she spoke up when she could have left me hanging out to dry. But that’s it.
The bell rings. Jules and I both stay put, shifting our backpacks and shuffling our feet. “I wish I’d tried harder to talk to you about all this,” I finally say.
“I wish I had, too,” Jules says. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I just got so caught up with Sean.”
“I’m glad you’re happy.” It’s a lie, because I can’t imagine any sort of happiness with Sean Murdock that doesn’t end with deep regret and possibly an STD, but I’m going to keep my mouth shut about that for once. There are worse things, I guess, than having an oaf for a boyfriend.
Jules links her arm in mine and pulls me toward the stairs. “Come on, Phoebe Jeebies. Let’s get you back on track.”
* * *
—
“I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me, Emma,” Martin McCoy says, leaning his forearms on our kitchen table. They’re lean and covered with freckles. My sister’s new lawyer has bright orange hair, just like my dad’s, and for some reason that makes me trust him. “Jared Jackson’s actions are caught on video, and there’s no question about his culpability in the Talia’s Restaurant bombing. Furthermore, he admitted to causing Brandon Weber’s death, despite there being no suspicion of his involvement at the time.” Martin rubs his temple, like Jared’s unsolicited confession hurts his lawyerly brain. “As far as I can tell, he did that purely to implicate you. To bring you down with him. And his lawyer has a mountain of chat transcripts”—he gestures to a thick manila folder on his right—“that he alleges were with you, agreeing to a revenge pact and planning the Truth or Dare game.”
Emma looks nervously at the folder. “Have you read them?” she asks.
She showered before Martin got here, so she’s looking more like her usual self. Her dark red hair is still damp, pulled back with a headband, and she’s wearing one of her favorite oxford shirts. She missed the top button, but still. Progress.
“Not yet,” Martin says. “They arrived in my office just before I left to come here. But I’d like to hear your version first, anyway.”
I’m sitting next to Emma, wondering if I’m going to get kicked out of the conversation at some point. I’ve already told Martin everything I know about Jared. Now Mom keeps looking at me uneasily, like she’s wishing I’d stayed at my aunt’s house with Owen. I kind of feel the same way. But if I have to be in this apartment, I’d rather know what’s going on than be stuck in my room alone. So I stay quiet, and stay put.
Emma bites her lip. “I mean. Mom told you, right? I did talk to him a lot. At first.”
Mom shifts in her seat, but before she can answer, Martin says, “Explain to me exactly how you met Jared, what the two of you talked about, and how things ended. Don’t sugarcoat or leave anything out. I can’t help you unless I know the full story.”
My sister takes a deep breath, and I do too. Here we go.
Emma’s voice takes on a mechanical quality, like she’s gearing up for a long speech. “It’s true, what Jared said about how we met online. I was going through a bad time. I’d just found out that Phoebe and my ex-boyfriend hooked up, and I was really upset.” I stare at the faux wood grain of our kitchen table, studiously avoiding Mom’s eyes, because that was a shitty conversation I never want to repeat.
“That was bad enough,” Emma continues. “But then I was looking through Mom’s files, trying to figure out how much money we have set aside for college, and I found the settlement paperwork from Dad’s accident. I was…so angry.” Her eyes are nothing but pupil. “When I read about what Brandon did, I hated him so much that I couldn’t think straight. I wanted—I don’t even know. I wanted to do something. I remembered Simon Kelleher’s old revenge forum, and I went looking for it. It had moved, but I found it eventually. I made up a name and signed on. I met Jared there, and we started talking. We sort of—bonded, I guess. He suggested we talk offline with ChatApp. We used real names then. Well, I used Phoebe’s name.”