I snorted—it looked like McCoy was serving new mistresses now. Mainly, Celia’s mother.
“But Empy was never interested in him, oh no,” June continued. “I remember the day she started dating the captain of the football team, because when Daniel went to his locker after school that day, all of his things were scattered in the hallway, torn up. We all knew Richard did it, but no one could prove it. And he groveled at Empy’s heels until the day she died.”
“Do you remember that? What happened?”
“Well, it was a few years after they—Empy and the football captain—got married. Right after our senior year, she was pregnant and used it as leverage to make him marry her. She came back for our five-year reunion, and was standing under the scoreboard, talking about her glory days and her father’s philanthropy, and it fell. They say she died at the hospital a few hours later, but I think the scoreboard caught her in the head just right, and she was gone on the gym floor. Richard was there—I heard that he still followed her around after high school—and he tried to lift it off of her. They said he looked . . . unreachable. Like his whole reason for being was pinned under that scoreboard, and nothing tethered him to the world anymore.”
I shivered. “Do you think McCoy could be obsessed with someone else now? Like . . . he found a new tether?”
“It’s possible.”
Was that why Celia was doing all this terrible stuff to other people? Because McCoy was doing something to her? That changed things—I had really hoped Celia’s involvement in all this was just some byproduct of her need to be popular. Something she’d wished on herself. But more and more it looked like she was caught up in something she couldn’t control. And if that really was the case, how could I ignore it? After this semester, it wasn’t like she had any friends. Pariah was practically tattooed on her forehead.
“I might be the only one who thinks something bad is going on,” I said.
“Maybe you should talk to her,” June said. “She might not think she can ask for help. Or she may not know how.”
Wonderful—talking to Celia, one of my favorite things. Even if I wanted to, how could I get near her? Talking to anyone just seemed to make her angry, and we weren’t exactly best friends.
“Keep her away from me, while you’re at it,” Miles said.
June laughed. “Oh dear, you’ve always had trouble talking to girls.”
Miles turned red.
June looked at me. “When we were living in Germany, there was a nice girl who would ride down to the farm and talk to him. She brought him cake for his birthday. He never spoke more than three syllables to her, and he never accepted the cake.”
“She knew I didn’t like chocolate,” Miles mumbled, turning a deeper shade of red and sinking into his chair.
That was a lie. He’d eaten the Black Forest cake I’d brought him.
“You lived in Germany?” I said, looking between the two of them. “On a farm?”
June’s eyebrows shot up and she looked at Miles. “You haven’t told her?”
“No, he hasn’t told me.”
June frowned at Miles, who shrugged.
“Well, we moved there when Miles was seven. And we came back a few months after his thirteenth birthday.” June turned back to me. “He was so upset, but after my father died we couldn’t stay anymore.”
The airy way she said it made me think there was more to it than that, that she was skirting something important, but she didn’t continue. Miles glared at the wall with his arms crossed.
“You seemed to make friends okay,” June said.
“Right, Tucker Beaumont, the one kid in middle school who didn’t make fun of my accent,” Miles spat. “Great friend.”
“I like accents,” I said quietly.
“So do most other people, when they’re coming from hot chicks and tan guys with muscles and nice smiles. Not when they’re coming from a scrawny know-it-all with clothes that don’t fit and no possible way to relate to other kids his age.”
I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Neither could June, apparently. She put a hand up to her mouth and looked around as if she was searching for a misplaced book.
“I’m going to the restroom,” said Miles suddenly, pushing himself out of his chair. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
When the double doors swung closed behind him, June lowered her hand.
“Did he tell you why I’m here?” she asked.
I nodded.
“He said it was because of his father, didn’t he?”
Nodded again.
“It was. At first. I didn’t want to leave Miles with him, and I fought to get out of here. It would have been better for Miles if I had been there, but I can’t deny that this has helped me. I feel . . . more stable now. Still angry, but stable. And when I do leave, I’ll be able to do what I couldn’t before.”
She paused and glanced at the door again.
“Alex, if I ask you a few questions, will you do your best to answer them honestly?”