“Lyla,” Avery whispers. She turns pleading eyes up toward Claude. “What do they know? I mean, what are they saying about her? Do they think she’s okay?”
“Who’s okay after Anna’s Run? She’s dead, and everyone knows it.” Claude doesn’t see Avery flinch—or maybe she does, and it’s why she continues. “They’re never going to find out what happened to her, just like all the other girls who died there.”
“Shut up, Claude,” Lyla snaps. She tucks her arm through Avery’s. “Ignore her. It’s going to be okay.”
Claude rolls her eyes. “Sure. It’s going to be fairies and rainbows and unicorn kisses. And if you just wish hard enough, Anna will pop out of the water and give Emma back.” She knocks one Doc Marten against the other. “Just keep clicking your heels, Dorothy.”
Color rises in Avery’s cheeks. Her feet bounce and her hands tighten around the straps of her backpack. The hardness in her voice makes even her friends lean away. “Just because I’m not bitter doesn’t mean I don’t live in the real world.”
Claude leans forward. “Emma’s dead. Everyone thinks so. And the police are going to do the same thing they’ve always done—blunder around for a while, then forget about her.”
“That’s not true,” Avery half shouts. She’s breathing hard, jostling on her heels like she wants to take off in a sprint. She takes a deep breath and lowers her voice. “They will find out what happened. And when they prove you wrong, I won’t be surprised if they prove you’re a liar, too.”
The office door opens again, and two men come out. One still looks fresh out of his teaching internship, baby-faced and blond, too eager to smile. Mr. Pendler, English and journalism teacher, and Emma’s academic adviser. The other has silver in his brown hair and beard, and wears a coach’s whistle around his neck. Mr. Garson, school counselor, head coach of the lacrosse team and cheerleading squad, and three-time winner of the Best Educator award for the county.
“You know the rules about noise in the hall, girls,” Mr. Garson says.
Claude’s Martens touch together again. Click, click, click. “Wouldn’t want to break the rules, would we, Aves?”
Lyla steps in front, ponytail swinging. “At least Avery’s trying to help. Everyone’s going to know that you got called in because you hang around Anna’s Run, doing who knows what. You probably know all the sketchy stuff that goes down there, don’t you? Whatever you haven’t done yourself.”
“Ladies.” Mr. Pendler puts a hand on Lyla’s shoulder. She tenses, but he guides her back. “This is an awful time for everyone. I don’t expect you to be able to concentrate, but believe me—the routine of class will be good for you.”
Mr. Garson clears his throat. Mr. Pendler withdraws his hand from Lyla’s shoulder. Garson says, “Miss Vanderly? I believe you have precalc?”
Claude’s sneer is award worthy. “Good luck, Dorothy,” she mutters, making sure to knock Lyla with her shoulder as she stalks by.
“Witch,” Avery replies under her breath. Her eyelashes are heavy with unshed tears.
“Lyla? Natalie? Do you have hall passes?” Mr. Pendler asks.
Lyla and Natalie can’t quite meet his eyes. Lyla pulls Avery closer. “We’re emotional support. Aves needs us.”
Avery’s eyes are still on the ground. Pendler teeters on the edge, uncertain. But Mr. Garson shakes his head. “I know it’s difficult, but they’ll want to meet with you alone. Can you do that?” She nods. “Ladies, back to your classes. And Avery”—he fishes a tissue out of his pocket—“come on in.”
Avery moves toward the open door but stops when she reaches the threshold. The look she casts back isn’t toward Lyla and Natalie but at the long figure, moving down the hall, soon eclipsed by the sunlight. Then she pulls out her phone and begins to type.
3
The Cheer Captain
CLINE: The date is Thursday, December 6, 2018, the time is eight forty-nine. This is Detective Cline interviewing Avery Amelia Cross, correct?
AVERY: Yes.
CLINE: Thank you for agreeing to meet with us. Please, take your time. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you.
AVERY: It’s—it’s okay. I mean, of course it’s not okay. Emma, oh my god. It’s just—unbelievable, you know? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since I found out. And I haven’t been able to stop crying. God. My makeup must be raccooning right now.
I’m so sorry, that’s an awful thing to think about at a time like this. It’s just like Mom says: I can’t keep my head screwed on straight for anything. But I just—Emma was here yesterday. We talked about our cheer routine. It was like another day, and now—
I’m sorry, do you have another tissue?
CLINE: Can you tell us how you found out about Emma?
AVERY: It was this morning. I know that . . . video’s been going around since the middle of the night, but I don’t look at Facebook after nine. I was working on my cheer routine all last night, with my best friend, Lyla. She’s on the cheer team, too, and I sleep over a lot so we can practice. Then I drove us to school this morning.
I started to think something weird was going on when I saw the police car. We don’t usually get them, you know. But even then, I just figured someone got busted for weed, right? Claude Vanderly’s the type to get escorted out for having something special in her locker.
We were kind of joking about it when we went into homeroom. Usually we have a few minutes to ourselves, since we’re earlier than everyone else.
Not today.
Homeroom was crammed, and loud. But the chatter stopped as I came in.
For a moment, I was sure it was about me. I know people talk about me. Going over my every move at competitions, counting the calories I put on my plate at lunch. Fear swelled up from my stomach, and for a second I thought I was going to be sick. They’ll think you’re pregnant. I swallowed.
The cheer team had set up in the corner. They were all crying. Walking to my seat felt like walking down the world’s worst catwalk. Everyone was staring at me, and not in the good way. A ripple of whispers broke out. I checked the curves of my belly, the jut of my hip.
Natalie leaped out of her chair and gave us both a huge hug. “I’m so sorry, Aves,” she said thickly. Tears streamed down her face, running a track through her makeup. “How are you holding up?”
“A-about what?” I stammered. I could still feel the pressure of every stare in homeroom.
She took in the look on our blank faces and her red-rimmed eyes widened. “Oh my god. You guys saw the video, right?”
“What video?”
“Oh my god. Ohmygod.” Natalie leaned over. “Shay, your phone.”
“The Ham confiscated it,” Shay said, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Just like yours.”
I unzipped my bag and grabbed my phone. I don’t usually take my phone out during class, but I had to know. What had reduced the team to tears? What had all of homeroom in their seats before 7:45?
Natalie took the phone from me. By the time she handed it back, a crowd of students had piled behind us. They pressed in, pushing against my shoulders, breathing down the back of my neck. My skin started to crawl.