Much more calmly than she felt, Ava had stood up, pulled on her rumpled Zac Posen dress, and slammed the door on her way out.
But Ava had learned the hard way that no one broke up with Nolan Hotchkiss without suffering the consequences. In retaliation, he told everyone that she’d been sleeping her way through the male faculty at Beacon Heights High—and maybe one or two of the females, too. Everyone knew that Ava had been getting better grades for the past year, and they were more than happy to believe Nolan’s explanation. “Pretty girls don’t need brains,” Nolan would say loudly in the hallway whenever Ava was around. “They have other ways to get what they want.”
It was awful at first—people wrote Slut on her locker every day for a week. Guys followed her around asking for details of her exploits. Girls stopped talking when she came into a room. She’d texted Nolan in a blind rage: If you keep telling lies about me, I’ll kill you. But this was Beacon Heights, and the damage had already been done.
Most of it had blown over by the beginning of junior year—everyone had moved on to other scandals, and Ava’s friends knew Nolan was a lying scumbag anyway. And then she’d started dating Alex, who loved her for who she was, not how she looked. But Ava knew that the rumors were never truly gone. Every time she caught a group of girls whispering and shooting glances her way, or saw a boy giving her a once-over for a second too long, she wondered if it was because of what Nolan had made up about her.
She thought back to that night, at Nolan’s party, when Caitlin had talked her into leading him upstairs. It has to be you, Ava. Say you want to get back together with him. He’ll love that. He thinks he’s God’s gift to women.
And Caitlin had been right.
A cold, hard pit formed in her stomach, just like it always did when she thought about the prank. Nolan had been so willing to go upstairs with her, like he really believed she wanted him back. Ava didn’t dare tell Alex about what she’d done; she was sure he’d get a little jealous about her seducing her ex. But more than that, he’d be afraid of how it now connected her to Nolan’s death. Ava certainly was scared. The others kept insisting that his death was a coincidence, but she felt haunted. She had been the one to lead Nolan upstairs. She had been the one to feed him that spiked drink. But she knew exactly how much Oxy Caitlin had put in there: one measly pill. Just enough to make Nolan loopy. Not to kill him.
So how had it?
“Fine.” Ava turned to Leslie and sighed. “You win. I won’t bring Alex over here anymore. Just don’t tell my dad about those stupid rumors.”
Leslie smiled, looking pleased and amused. “I’m so glad we agree, Ava. I just want what’s best for you. You know that.” She turned and headed up the stairs without another word.
Ava was so angry she was shaking. This shouldn’t really be a surprise, she thought. Nolan’s rumors had been tormenting her for over a year now. Why would the tormenting stop, just because he was dead?
CHAPTER TEN
AFTER SCHOOL ON TUESDAY, JULIE sat in her sleek, spotless bedroom, wedged between two cushy throw pillows with a faux-fur blanket wrapped around her legs. Light poured through the window, making the room look clean and cheerful and, most of all, normal. Like the nice, normal bedroom of a normal girl, who had a normal mother and a normal house. A normal girl who had not possibly accidentally killed a classmate in a prank gone terribly wrong.
Don’t think about it, she commanded herself. It was a coincidence. A horrible, awful coincidence that they had written on him just before he died. But nobody would believe that if she didn’t believe it herself.
Police officers had popped into classrooms yesterday, asking questions. A few kids said they’d already been interviewed about the night of the party, though Julie hadn’t been called in. What if someone had seen her go upstairs? What if someone had heard their conversation in film studies? Someone must have, right?
Only . . . who?
Now, all Julie wanted to do was lie in her bed with her head under the covers, but she had to be normal, perfect Julie. And normal, perfect Julie was happy and popular. So she had Nyssa on her phone and her friend Colette on hold. Natalie was IMing her on her MacBook Air, she had fifteen Facebook messages to read, and she had three hundred “likes” on an Instagram selfie she’d posted only last night.
“And someone told me they were making out in the photography darkroom,” Nyssa was saying in Julie’s ear, punctuating the gossip with a snicker. She was talking about Rebecca Hallswell and Corey Grier, the newest couple at Beacon, scandalous because they’d both cheated on their exes. “I mean, get a little creative, Corey! The poor girl’s hair is going to smell like fixer for the rest of the day!”
“Seriously,” Julie said, rolling her eyes. “Although there is something romantic about the darkroom, you know? That dim lighting. And all those black-and-white photos hanging on clothespins . . .”