They move with care around each other, each conscious of the girl missing from their orbit. When they exchange hugs at the edge of the parking lot, they linger as though they’re not sure they can let go.
Avery wraps her arms around Tanya. “I know it was a long practice today,” she says. “But we had so much to work through.” Both the routine and Emma. They’d clustered around Lyla’s phone, reading and rereading. “We’re going to kill it on Saturday.”
Shay comes up and puts a hand on Tanya’s shoulder. “My mom’ll give you a ride home. You can’t wait for the bus in this.”
“Thanks.” Tanya and Shay wave to the rest as Shay’s mom pulls into the pickup area.
“Drive safe,” Avery says as Natalie unlocks her new VW Bug.
“Of course.” Natalie slips in and slams the door.
And then it’s just Lyla and Avery, headed for Avery’s car. “Starbucks?” Lyla says hopefully.
“Dad said I have to be home in fifteen minutes.” Which is true but also a convenient excuse for avoiding two-thousand-calorie drinks. Avery runs a hand over her stomach.
Lyla shrugs. “All right. Feel good about the routine?”
“This one’ll be hard. But we’ll get through it,” Avery says. They have to.
“Yeah. As long as no one keeps getting called in for interviews.” Lyla unpins her dark hair, massaging her scalp as she tucks bobby pins through a belt loop. She casts a sidelong glance at Avery, but Avery’s intently stepping around piles of slush, careful not to ruin her ballet flats. “I mean, they’ve already done you twice.”
Avery rubs the back of her neck. “I offered to help, remember?”
“Of course.” But Lyla sounds relieved. “Are you giving them good stuff? Stuff they can use? Stuff that can help Emma?”
“Yeah.” Avery looks up, staring at the slate sky, at the snow that falls in clumps. The perfect weather for careening over the side of the ravine, or crashing into the mountain. Sliding off bridges and into rivers. She taps her foot, as if pressing on an imaginary accelerator.
“Awesome. They might be getting somewhere because of you. My dad texted me during practice to say they already had a suspect in custody.”
Avery’s head whips around. “So it’s true? Is it—?” She doesn’t say Claude.
“He didn’t tell me. But according to Adams West . . .”
“Yeah.” Avery unlocks her Prius. Yesterday, Adams West didn’t exist. Now he’s promising to burn the world down. “Murder’s a little off the deep end, though. Even for her.”
Lyla shrugs. “I don’t know. Claude likes to . . . try new things.”
“Lyla,” Avery gasps.
“Calm down, Aves.” Lyla laughs. When she laughs in this snow, she looks like a fairy tale, a princess among peasants. “Even West is skeptical, though I’d have to be an idiot to put all my trust in some random blogger. Even if he does probably go to this school.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Knowledge of the student body and general disdain for Lorne.” Lyla tilts her chin up to catch snow on her eyelashes. “He’s a Lorner, through and through.”
“Or maybe he’s a forty-year-old in Denver who makes fake blogs out of big news stories,” Avery says.
“No, he’s from here. And he’s definitely our age. I’m betting he’s hot.” Lyla giggles and leans over the hood of the car. “It’s something in the way he writes.”
Avery shakes her head as they slip into the Prius. “You’re too obsessed with hot guys, Lyla.”
“Of course you’d think that. You’ve got a hot guy, and I’m still waiting on mine. The most action I get is covering for you.” Lyla bites her lip. “So did your parents ever ask you about it?”
“About Adams West?” Avery’s busy slipping off her wet shoes and doesn’t look at Lyla.
“No, Aves. About where you were last night.”
“Oh.” She swallows again and tosses the ballet flats behind her seat. “I said I was at your place. That’s still cool, right?”
“Of course. You know I have your back. We girls gotta stick together.” Lyla leans over to knock Avery with her shoulder and gives her a conspiratorial smile. “My parents were asleep at eleven, so if anyone asks, you came over around twelve, and you left early this morning because you forgot something at home.”
“Thanks, Lyla.” Avery finally smiles, a soft and real smile. “That means a lot.”
“I’m happy to help. As long as you give me details. Which you’ve been really bad at so far.”
Avery starts up the Prius. “I know. I just . . . don’t know how to talk about it. My parents would kill me if they thought Michael and I are—um. You know. And they really like him. They say he’s such a good boy.” The perfect boy to marry right out of high school and start a Jefferson-Lorne family with.
“Aves, I’m happy to keep your relationship-saving secret sex life a secret, as long as you agree to spill some of that secret.”
“Relationship-saving?”
“Don’t play innocent.” Lyla arches a brow. “Michael was convinced you and Emma were . . .” She tilts her head as she leans in to adjust the heat. “He was practically crawling up my ass, trying to get me to admit to covering for you.” She puts her hand on Avery’s arm. “Don’t feel guilty about last night.”
“I don’t,” Avery says, but her eyes are on Lyla’s hand, not her face.
“You needed to make time for him. You almost had me convinced that you were cheating with Emma.” She squeezes. “I’m gonna dump my stuff in the trunk—hang on.”
“No! I mean, here, I’ve got it.”
Avery grabs Lyla’s bag and hops out, tiptoeing over to the trunk. She pops it open and tosses a black hoodie over a pair of too-large hiking boots, still wet and crusting with mud.
“Didn’t you wear that yesterday?” Lyla says over her shoulder.
Avery spins as if seeing a ghost.
“No.” The lie comes out easy, forceful, with no room for error. “That’s an old lacrosse hoodie. Sorry. It’s such a mess back here. I didn’t want to get your stuff filthy.”
Lyla stares for a moment at the misshapen bundle only partly hidden beneath the sweatshirt. The rubber toe of one boot poking out. The mud, dense and dark, like the kind that coats the banks of the river. “Pine Nation doesn’t make boots in women’s sizes.”
“They’re Dad’s. I sort of, um. Borrowed them.” Avery twitches the muddy hoodie over the edge of the boot.
Lyla puts one hand on the top of the trunk, fixing Avery with her stare. “Why? What were you and Michael doing last night?”
Avery swallows. “He wanted to do it . . . somewhere different.”
Lyla snorts. “Shut up. You guys did it outside?”
“Shh,” Avery pleads, looking around the deserted parking lot.
Lyla takes her hand off the trunk. “I need details. Five minutes ago.”
“Okay, okay, I’ll tell you everything.” Avery’s face is beet red. She slams the trunk closed. “Let’s just get into the car first. It’s freezing out here.”