“Go ahead, Sawyer, tell Mrs. Gaines how you treated poor Maggie. What you did right before she died.”
Sawyer felt a bitter, metallic taste in her mouth as heat engulfed her. The crowd in front of her started to shimmer as tears pooled behind her eyes and raked down her cheeks. “I didn’t,” she squeaked, her eyes locked on the anguish in Mrs. Gaines’s eyes, “I didn’t do anything to Maggie.”
It was a croaked whisper while Sawyer backed through the crowd to the front door. “It wasn’t my fault. It wasn’t…” Her words were lost in Libby’s last screams, in the coos and whispers of the crowd that tried to defend and calm. She had her hand on the doorknob, the stares around her accusatory, seeming to suck the breath out of Sawyer’s lungs. “It’s not my fault,” she whispered.
Even she had a hard time believing it.
Her cheeks burned, and her stomach seemed to collapse in on itself as she stepped out of the house.
Could this—Maggie—be the message her admirer was talking about?
No. No.
Maggie did this to herself. She—But even in her own head, Sawyer couldn’t form the words. Maggie killed herself.
Sawyer couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t see as tears flooded her eyes, and that was why she slipped on the porch step and fell, chest to chest, against Cooper.
“Oof!” he groaned.
Sawyer stepped back, Cooper’s muscled arms holding her taut and upright.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
His dark eyes took her in from head to toe. “Same thing you are, I suppose.”
Sawyer noticed Cooper’s black suit, crisp white shirt, and simple tie. Had he been dressed this way for any other occasion, she would have complimented the way his broad shoulders looked under the nicely tailored jacket.
“I didn’t even know you knew Maggie.”
Cooper shrugged. “She was in a few of my classes. I just thought it would be nice to…”—his eyes went around Sawyer, to the closed door behind her—“pay my respects, I guess.”
Sawyer nodded. “Me too.”
“It’s nice that you came here. I mean, I remember you told me about what happened between the two—or, three, I guess—of you.”
Sawyer’s eyebrows went up. “Oh, right. At Evan’s party.”
Cooper’s finger was gentle as it brushed against Sawyer’s cheek. She felt a warm shiver go up her spine and then the hot blush of embarrassment.
“Yeah.” She used the heel of her hand to roughly swipe at the tears. “Sorry. Maggie and I had our issues, but I have to remember that we were friends.” Once.
Sawyer immediately set to work stomping out the voices in her head—reminding her that Maggie said Kevin was cheating her, letting her know that if it hadn’t been for her, Maggie might still be alive this minute.
“Sawyer?”
“Oh, sorry, Cooper. What did you say?”
“I said I was just going to go in for a minute. I don’t really know Maggie’s family. Do you want to come in with me? Maybe afterward we can grab a cup of coffee or something.”
There was nothing Sawyer wanted more than to be far away from Maggie’s house and everyone in it. But coffee with Cooper…actually, anything with Cooper sounded good. Sawyer looked at Cooper’s earnest eyes and paused, considering. She took a tentative step, then stopped. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yeah, sure.”
“The other day, when I saw you in the hall?”
“You mean when I was going to the bathroom?”
Sawyer sucked in a breath. “You weren’t going to the bathroom. No one walks completely across campus to go to the bathroom.”
Cooper opened his mouth to say something but Sawyer stopped him. “And you weren’t sneaking out of trig. You were on the other side of the school. Why were you in that hall?”
Cooper laughed, but it sounded forced, rough. “Wow. Nosy much?”
Sawyer didn’t falter, looking at him hard.
A light blush crept across his cheeks. “Okay, I wasn’t sneaking out of trig. You’re right.” He held up a finger. “But I was on my way back from the bathroom.” Cooper blinked, looking suddenly shy. “I was in class. It wasn’t trig. It was home ec.”
Sawyer narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t 1957, Cooper. Hawthorne doesn’t even have a home ec class.”
“I wish that were true. But Hawthorne does, and it’s taught by Ms. Oliver in room 257, in the arts building. Third period. And if you’re a transfer student hoping to take something more manly—anything, actually, that doesn’t involve an apron or a ladle—you’re shit out of luck.” He shrugged. “It was the only open elective.”
Sawyer tried to hold her lips steady, but they kept creeping up. “You’re in home ec? You were lying to me because you didn’t want me to know you’re in home economics?”
“Yeah.” Cooper lowered his voice. “And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t let it get around. It’s hard enough being the new guy without everyone knowing that I can’t bake a soufflé to save my life.”