THE REALIZATION
I retreat upstairs after the trip to the mail room, the damning note clutched in my hand. After the initial shock of the words, my head has cleared. It’s strange how calm I am. The world is about to come crashing down at my feet, but my heartbeat is steady. My breath comes in regular sequence. My vision is hyper focused.
I sit on my couch in my quiet, empty room and set the note carefully on the coffee table.
This can mean only one thing. Someone knows.
But who? Who is the she in this warning? I’m surrounded by women, girls, variables of she from every corner.
Becca. Vanessa. Piper. Dean Westhaven. The cop.
Camille.
The number of she’s is astounding to think of. Any one of these girls could be about to wreck my life. Think. Who has the most to gain from seeing you exposed?
Piper isn’t capable. She’s a good girl.
Vanessa, though...
Which leads me to wonder, how long was the note in my box? While I’ve been down to the mail room several times since Becca tapped me, I haven’t checked my own box in days. Camille has been dead for four days. Was the note placed before Camille died? Or after?
She.
Becca. Camille. The dean.
Sister.
Camille’s sudden suicide.
She is going to expose you.
No. It can’t be.
I’m jumping to conclusions, I know, but I can’t help but think the absolute worst.
I heard my name that night. I’ve forgotten that small but eerie detail. I’d written it off as my imagination which was already in overdrive coupled with drugs and alcohol, but when I entered our dorm room, I thought I heard my name called.
Was it Camille, yelling for help?
Did Becca somehow find out Camille was going to share my secret and kill her to stop the rumors? Did she kill Camille to protect me?
The shirt she gave me had a tear in it. She gave it to me that night. We were apart for at least fifteen minutes. She had time to get up there. If Camille had been stashed away somewhere, it’s entirely possible.
A chill runs through me.
Did Becca push Camille? Was Camille about to expose my past and Becca took care of it for me?
Is she capable of murder?
And then I remember. Becca’s mail. I’ve forgotten to deliver Becca’s mail.
I have to go face her.
I need to think. I need to figure this out.
I have to act like nothing is wrong.
I grab the mail and sprint up the stairs. Becca isn’t in her room, and the relief is overwhelming. I set the mail on her desk and, before I am seen, slip into the stairwell and hurry back downstairs.
The notecard, folded in half, is pinned to my corkboard. It wasn’t there when I left. There is a small bird wrapped in vines etched on the front. The Ivy Bound symbol. Becca was here, I’ve just missed her. Or maybe her minions, the twins, who knows?
I take the card with a shaking hand and move into my room to read it.
9:00 p.m. Commons. Mandatory for all.
Mandatory is underlined three times. Becca has called for a meeting of the Swallows. Why?
Oh, God. Who cares. If I’m in a group, I’ll be safe. She wouldn’t dare hurt me in front of witnesses.
“Ash?”
Piper sticks her head in.
I slide a book over both notes. “What are you doing up here?”
“Same as you, I suspect. Cutting.”
O-ho, how wrong you are, little girl.
“Listen. I know things are really weird right now, but you should know the dean was in here ten minutes ago. I think she was searching your room.”
“Searching my room? For what?”
“Your phone.”
“I don’t have a phone.”
“She found one in your closet. I was watching. It had tape on it. She looked at it, swiped around some, then saw me and hid it behind her back. I had to spin a quick tale about needing a tampon.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Because I’m your friend, asshole. At least I’ve been trying to be, though you don’t make it easy.”
I blow out a breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m a little stressed out.” I’m holding a note that says my world is about to blow up. Know anything about it?
“Maybe we could talk later?” she says, hopeful.
“About?”
“What’s happening. Man, you are weird today.”
“What do you mean?”
“Um, hello? The sheriff has been here several times, the dean just searched your room. They think you did something to Camille. And there’s some rumor about you having a sister. And that you and Becca are on the outs. I just thought you might need a friendly ear, that’s all. I know you wouldn’t have hurt Camille. You’re not that kind of person.”
What kind of person am I, Piper? Do you really know me?
“Becca and I were never on the ins. Besides, there’s nothing to talk about. I can’t discuss a family matter. I appreciate you letting me know about the dean, Piper. But I need to lie down now, I’m not feeling well.”
Disappointment crosses her face, but she nods. “No worries. I need to get back to class.”
She disappears, and my mind dismisses her, but not entirely.
The dean in my room. Finding a phone?
Whose phone did she find? It’s one rule I actually followed—I didn’t bring a phone. I have other ways to communicate with the outside world, I hardly need a phone. They’re too dangerous.
Then it hits me. The mobile signature on the email. She wanted me to decode where the email with the photos was sent from.
Shit. If the dean found a phone in my room, she’s going to think it came from me, that I lied and said I didn’t know who sent the email. It looks like me. It’s going to be hard as hell to deny it without exposing myself.
Who is messing with me?
And why?