My plan worked.
I have never felt so incredibly awful in my entire life. In a daze, I leave Mrs. Henderson’s office and walk back to Mather. I’d thought—I don’t know. I don’t actually know what I was thinking. That framing Mandy would make my life a lot easier? That it was just tit for tat? I mean, she was technically trying to place the blame for Mr. Werner’s death on me. I was just trying to protect myself.
But wow. I did not foresee feeling this sick, like my insides have rotted, and if a surgeon were to open me up right now, they’d see that everything’s black and decomposing. And that sense that I’m missing something important is still burrowing its way through my guts. When I get to my room, I bury my face in my pillow and scream everything out. That look on Mandy’s face when the cops led her away. And the crime they charged her with—assault with narcotics. They’re charging her for Stacey’s overdose. Everything inside me twists painfully at the thought. This is not what I planned. This is—I know my whole plan was awful, but now that it’s come true—god, I feel sick. I need to tell someone. The truth is escaping, wriggling out of me like some fat worm.
I need to make this right. I’ll go to the cops, I’ll tell them every—okay, maybe not everything, not about Mr. Werner, but I’ll tell them about the drugs. And before that, I’ll tell Danny—
Danny.
My stomach twists painfully. That dark, sharp sensation, the one that whispers of something wrong, something rotten, resurfaces. And I can’t hide from it anymore.
Because the past few nights, as I doom-scrolled through DD, there was one picture that had caught my attention. One photo that I kept coming back to without quite understanding why. It was an innocuous photo of the two Aidens midcheer, brandishing their cocktails. Nothing suspicious about that. But my hand ignores the rest of my brain and I watch as my thumb scrolls through DD and locates that photo. I tap on it—nothing weird, nothing to see—and expand it. And there, in the background, standing in front of the drinks table, his back to the camera—
All the breath is wrenched out of me.
It didn’t sink in before, probably because my consciousness wouldn’t let it, but I’m letting it out now, in its raw, ugly form.
When I’d overheard Mrs. Henderson talking to someone on the phone, groveling, she’d asked what time it was in Jakarta. Jakarta, Indonesia. Where Danny’s family still lives. His powerful, wealthy family.
It all crashes into place with horrible finality. Danny’s anger. How pale and cold and angry he had been the past few weeks, how he had isolated himself. And how he’d come out of that so quickly as though by magic. Or maybe it was because he had formulated a plan and was carrying it out. Danny, who’s never been that into parties, nudging Sam into throwing one on her yacht. Danny, always ready with drinks and bottled water at the party. So helpful, I’d thought then. So sweet and considerate. I was so lucky to have him. And then Stacey ended up in a coma, and Danny’s parents got the cops to close the case.
I need to call the cops. Call Mendez. And say what?
I’m missing the why. Why would Danny have done all that? Why would he want to do that to Stacey? What’s she ever done to him?
I’m breathing so hard, I feel like I might pass out. Why would he—
Stacey’s voice whispers in my head. You know I’ll always have your back, right? No matter what you’ve done. My vision swims as tears spill out. I—did she know? Did Stacey know all along that I killed Mr. Werner? Did Danny do something to her because of it? But it made no sense why he would.
I don’t have a choice. I’m on my own now. I have to do this. For Stacey. For Mandy. For myself. I need to find out what exactly Danny’s done.
Chapter 32
My stomach continues wringing itself like a towel as I crawl through the Narnia hole. I try to calm myself down, reminding myself to breathe, taking a long inhale, but the crisp, cold air feels like knives in my lungs, and I cough it out.
My phone rings, shattering the silence and nearly giving me a heart attack, but it’s only Beth. Weird that she’s calling instead of texting. I hit Accept, and Beth’s face fills the screen. She’s laughing and babbling incoherently.
“What’s going on?”
“—awake!” Beth cries, flapping.
“What?”
“She’s awake!” Beth aims her phone from her face toward a bed. A hospital bed. With Stacey in it. And Stacey is indeed awake, blinking at me.
Her mouth quirks up into the sardonic smile I know so well, and she says, weakly, “’Sup, loser.”
I gasp. “Stacey. Oh my god. Do you—should I come over?”
“Nah, don’t bother,” Stacey says. “I’m pooped, and visiting hours are over in five. Um.” She turns to look at Beth. “Not that I’m saying you should leave, Beth. But like, why are you here again?”
“Oh!” Beth says. “I just came to, um. Um. To see you?”
“Is it because you wanted to make sure your drugs didn’t kill me?”
Beth and I both gasp. “You knew?” we say at the same time.
Stacey rolls her eyes. “That Beth’s a drug lord? I know everything about everyone, when will you people learn this?”
“But how come you never told—” Beth says.
“I don’t know. Because it’s none of my business. Because you always seemed so stressed out. Maybe I should’ve. Stop doing it, okay?”
I don’t see Beth’s reaction, but Stacey gives a small smile. “Okay, talk to you two kids tomorrow. Turn off the lights when you go, will you?”
“I’ll see you tomorrow!” I call out, and Beth waves at me and disconnects the call.
Wow.
I mean.
Just.
My breath comes out in a shaky whoosh. My best friend’s okay. She’s fine, she’s as sassy as ever, and I can see her tomorrow. She’s okay. Tears sting my eyes.
Footsteps crunch close and I look up to see Danny, cheeks red from the cold and hair all tousled, and my breath catches. The sight of him. It’s like a punch straight to my solar plexus. It reminds me of all those times when I saw him and thought he was the most beautiful person I’d ever seen. And now he’s still making me catch my breath, but for all the wrong reasons.
“You okay? You’re kind of staring,” he says.
“Oh, sorry.” I break eye contact and stare down at my feet. But then I realize this will probably weird him out and make him realize something’s off, so I look back up at him, except I can’t look him in the eye, I just can’t. I settle for his chin instead.
“How did the meet go?”
“I fell flat on my face and came dead last.”
He laughs, then he sees my expression and stops abruptly. “You’re kidding, right?”
I shake my head.