CHAPTER 64
1157 Words
Surrounded by the smell of deodorant and floral sprays, Calla
slipped out of her hoodie and grabbed the spare t-shirt she'd
stuffed down in the depths of her backpack. Locker doors
slammed as girls threw their things inside, grumbling about today's
gym activity.
Dodgeball. Of course it was dodgeball. Because why not order a
bunch of hormonal teenagers to throw s**t at each other?
Beside her, Stephanie struggled out of her skintight jeans, falling
against the lockers as she fought to undress. Calla snorted as she
struggled. The other girl threw her an exasperated look in return.
Calla had been waiting for this moment all day. She'd suffered
through her first three classes, only to torment herself in psych by
staring at the back of Blake Richardson's head and brainstorming
ways to learn more about what, exactly, had happened between
him and his twin brother. It was yet another piece of the puzzle
Calla hadn't been able to place, and she had a feeling that once
she did, many more pieces would follow.
She just needed to leverage the right connections...and push all
the wrong buttons.
Stepping in front of the single cracked mirror, Calla readjusted her
ponytail, pulling it tight. The ghastly yellow paint on the walls made
her skin look sallow, the circles under her eyes more prominent.
She frowned at her reflection, sour.
Stephanie sidled into view, hovering just over Calla's left shoulder.
Her reflection twisted at odd angles, distorted by the c***k in the
mirror. The broken glass splintered her face into hundreds of small
pieces.
Calla gave her ponytail one last tug. "Steph?"
"Yeah?" The other girl adjusted her tank top in the mirror.
Calla pretended to hesitate. She cleared her throat but said
nothing.
"What is it?" Stephanie put an encouraging hand on her shoulder.
"I owe you for listening to me rant about Jess. I've been thinking a
lot about what you've been trying to tell me, and you know
what...you were right about her. She's a mean girl. You're a good
friend, Cal."
"A good friend," she repeated, her hands dropping to her sides.
"Rach was a good friend."
She let those words marinate in the silence. Stephanie's reflection
shifted, uncomfortable. She wouldn't let the silence linger for long.
She'd say something to end the tension building in the small room.
Calla knew from experience that she did not do well with long
pauses.
Most people didn't.
Just as she heard Stephanie take a breath—her nature could really
be so very predictable—Calla interjected: "She and Jess had a fight.
Did you know about that?"
Stephanie answered immediately. "I—oh. A fight? They fought all
the time." Another nervous shuffle of her feet. Calla still hadn't
turned to look at her. Perhaps the other girl sensed something off
about Calla. Had her mask slipped? Had something in her cool
facade come undone?
She arranged and rearranged her expression before turning,
hoping that her eyes—wide and beseeching—would put Stephanie
at ease.
It worked. Stephanie grabbed Calla's hand. A reflex. "Hey...Cal,
look—"
Calla pulled her hand away and wandered over to the lone bench in
the center of the room. She sat, staring at the wall. Channeling
what she imagined hopeless grief might look like. "I'm trying. I'm
really trying, Steph. But I can't stop thinking about her. Or that
fight."
Stephanie joined her on the bench. The wood creaked under the
added weight. "What fight, Calla?"
"Jess said some nasty things to Rachel. Nasty, Steph. She thought
she had to step in for Astrid, I guess. When I..."
She trailed off, trying to seem unwilling. Stephanie felt encouraged
by the need to fill in the blanks herself. She shifted forward,
reaching for Calla's hand. A second attempt at physical comfort.
Predictable. So. Very. Predictable.
"When you took Vincent to the dance. Astrid got pissed. And
Jess..." Stephanie groaned. Two plus two did, in fact, equal four.
"Why'd she pop off on Rachel ? And why...?"
Why are you so bothered by that, Calla?
Another stretch of silence. This one longer than the last.
Stephanie's fingers convulsed around hers. She knew where
Calla's train of thought had ended, and it wasn't a conversation
she wanted to have.
"You told me you saw someone go after her the night of the party,"
Calla said, voice soft. "A girl."
"Oh." Stephanie shifted. Definitely uncomfortable. "I was probably
too drunk to really remember it right, Cal."
"But I think you were right," Calla pushed, lifting her head to look
the other girl in the eyes. "I think I saw someone follow Rachel to
the bathroom. I'm not gonna act like I wasn't drinking. But,
Steph...you said you were looking for Jess that night. You couldn't
find her." Calla paused for effect, letting her words stretch on into
the silence. "I swear I saw her follow Rach."
Stephanie sucked in a breath. A nervous line of sweat had
gathered at her hairline. Almost imperceptible. "Are you serious?"
"Deadly," Calla muttered. Nevermind that she'd seen nothing of the
sort. But if it got Stephanie talking...she'd say just about anything.
"What am I supposed to do with that information, Steph?"
"I don't know," Stephanie whispered. Her dark eyes darted around
the room. Looking for a way out, perhaps? "I...I took a few pictures
at the Halloween party. But they didn't come out great...I'm
useless."
"You're more useful than I am."
You can't help yourself, can you, Steph? Always capturing the
moment...and the little lies that follow.
"I didn't know you brought your camera that night," Calla admitted,
hoping to confirm how, exactly, Stephanie had captured those
images. "Cooper left his at home."
"Oh, I know," Stephanie said with an annoyed sigh. "He told me. I
didn't bring mine, either. Tracy didn't exactly want to film an
underage drinking documentary...but it makes me think. If I'd had
it, and not my phone..."
She shrugged and Calla nodded. So. Your camera roll has what I
need. Noted.
Her eyes slid to Stephanie's locker. Could she convince the other
girl to leave her alone long enough to sneak into her bag? She
knew her phone's passcode. She'd committed most of her friend's
circle to memory.
For just such occasions.
"I wonder if Tom caught anything," Calla wondered aloud, pushing
her luck. How much could she possibly squeeze out of Stephanie
before the other girl got suspicious? "I saw him at Jess's party. He
looked pretty pissed. He had his camera on him, of course. He
always does."
"I don't think he knows anything," Stephanie said shortly.
Calla opened her mouth to add something she wasn't sure when the coach's whistle blew.
"Come on." Stephanie stood, eager to escape the locker room.
"We're gonna fail if we don't get out there."
Protecting your protege, I see. Are you hiding an innocent feature
story on the latest cheating scandal...or something far worse?
- Writer
