“Yeah. Weird, huh?”
“Definitely weird,” Parker said quietly as they turned onto Ava’s street. Then she cleared her throat. “Wanna know something else that’s weird? I found out this morning that someone killed my dad.”
Julie unwittingly slammed on the brakes in the middle of the street. “What?”
“Yup. He died in the prison yard. They cremated him already. Good riddance, right?”
Parker’s voice was robotic and toneless, and for a moment, Julie thought she was joking. But there was pain behind her eyes. And Parker wouldn’t joke about that.
Julie clutched Parker’s hand hard. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. But maybe we should be happy?”
Parker pulled her hoodie tighter around her face. “I know.” She looked Julie square in the eye, something she rarely did anymore, considering her scars. “I mean, I was always talking about how I wanted him dead—and now he is. It’s like my wish came true.”
“My wish, too,” Julie said faintly. But strangely, Markus Duvall’s death didn’t give her much satisfaction. It couldn’t undo what he’d done to Parker.
Julie shut off the car as they pulled up in front of Ava’s house and glanced worriedly at her friend. “Are you sure you want to go in there right now? We can skip it.”
Parker nodded. “I’m fine. Really.”
Julie gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Well, if you get uncomfortable, we can leave, okay? And it’s movie night in my room tonight. Your choice. Even something with Ben Affleck.”
They got out of the car and started up the walk. Just before they could ring the bell, the door swung open. Ava’s stepmother, Leslie, stood in the foyer. Her eyes were cold, the corners of her mouth turned down, and she swayed back and forth. When the wind shifted, Julie could smell white wine on her breath.
“More of you,” she said bitterly, looking at Julie and Parker with disdain. “Everyone’s in her bedroom. Please try not to trash the place, okay?”
Julie just nodded, but Parker glared at the woman, puffing up her chest. “Actually, I was planning on setting fire to the house, thanks. And maybe doing heroin in your bathroom. That cool?”
“Parker!” Julie said, elbowing her. Parker was never great with authority figures. Her dad used to prey on that.
Ava’s stepmother looked from girl to girl, clearly irritated. “Who are you again?” she asked, her words slightly slurred.
“Come on,” Julie said, grabbing Parker’s arm and dragging her upstairs. No wonder Ava bitched about that woman. She had the demeanor of a snake ready to strike.
Upstairs, Ava’s door was ajar. Ava sat on her bed, while Caitlin and Mac were sprawled on the floor. Everyone looked stricken, but Ava’s beautiful face was a teary mess.
Julie gave her a tight hug. “Are you okay?”
Ava shrugged, grabbing a Kleenex. “Not really. What about you? I haven’t seen you in school since that horrible email.” She looked Julie over, then smiled and flicked Julie’s chandelier earrings. “Those are pretty.”
Julie ducked her head. “Thanks. And I’m . . . getting there,” she said quietly. “I might even go back to school soon.” That was thanks to Carson, of course. He’d bolstered her so much she actually thought she could face the onslaught.
“You should totally come back,” Caitlin said gently. “Don’t let ’em see you sweat. And we’ll support you.”
“That’s right,” Mac echoed. “We’ll be with you every step of the way.”
Julie wanted to hug all of them. In the terrible pain of her secret getting out, this knowledge—that she had new friends, girls she had barely known just weeks ago, who wouldn’t judge her—felt like a gift. Whatever happened, they had one another’s backs. They were in this together.
Ava shut her bedroom door firmly behind them, and they all stared at one another for a moment. Then Caitlin took a deep breath. “So. Alex.”
“I can’t believe it.” Julie looked at Ava. “You were really there when he was arrested?”
Ava nodded, looking tormented. “They dragged him out of the house and shoved him into the car. It was brutal.”
“So do you think he . . . did it?” Julie asked Ava cautiously.
Ava pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “No way. He wouldn’t stab anyone.”
Mac cleared her throat. “But what about this?” She pulled up a website on her phone. A newscaster from the local station appeared on the screen. “The newest suspect in the Granger murder case, Alex Cohen, has a history of violence,” the reporter said in a grave voice. “We spoke to Lewis Petrovsky, a student who knew Alex at his old school in Monterey, California.”