“He got stuck at work. He’s coming to both shows tomorrow.” Ashley planted a kiss on her forehead; Lauren wiggled away, her eyes on the group of girls to our right. I recognized Keelie March. Caught the words diner and get a ride from Emma.
“Hey, you did awesome, Monkey,” Andrew said, his voice loud enough to drown out Keelie and her peons. They’d wanted Lauren to hear about their plans, the ones she was excluded from. I stuck my hands in the pockets of my cardigan, afraid of how I wanted to walk over and use them to shake Emma Michaels. Don’t you see they’re using you?
Lauren peeled the stick-on rhinestone from the corner of her eye, one of the ones I’d helped her apply backstage during intermission. They were a part of her tap costume: a navy velour sailor’s outfit and matching hat that she was mortified of because a boy she liked would be in the audience, the younger brother of one of the senior girls.
“Can we please just get out of here?” she’d said, and by the time we’d made it to the car she was crying silently.
Andrew cleared his throat. “I don’t know about you guys, but I’m starving.”
He looked over at me. “I could go for ice cream,” I said, playing along.
“You three go.” Ashley’s mouth formed a sad little smile, like she understood that being seen getting ice cream with her mom after the recital was worse than being left out of the diner trip. “I’m exhausted.”
Once we were inside Culver’s, sundaes ordered, Lauren had brightened a bit. She told us how one of the kindergartners from the ballet class she cotaught had wet her tutu right before her dance number, even though Lauren had asked them three times whether anyone had to go pee before going onstage.
We were laughing so hard I didn’t notice that Bailey and Jade were standing at the edge of our table until Andrew said, “Hey, what are you guys doing here?”
Bailey smirked at me and said low enough that only I could hear: “Way to text us back.”
I patted my cardigan pocket, where I’d forgotten I’d tucked my phone. “My phone was on silent.”
The morning came rushing back to me: Bailey, stopping in for her egg whites and latte, asking me what I was doing tonight. When I’d told her I had to go to Lauren’s recital, she said, So text us after.
“So what are you guys doing?” I asked, hoping my panic hadn’t crept into my voice. It’s not a big deal; you didn’t say you would hang out with them.
“Just chilling,” Bailey said. “We got hungry.”
“I’m getting onion rings,” Jade said. “You guys want anything?”
Andrew swirled his spoon through the syrup on his sundae. “Nah, we’re good.”
Bailey gave me a little wave over her shoulder as she followed Jade to the counter. Andrew’s voice was low in my ear: “What was that about?”
“I don’t know.” I didn’t say what was niggling at me: had they followed us here?
Neither of them brought that night up ever again, but now, I can feel the way Bailey looked at me like a pit in my stomach. The same way Ellie Knepper looked at me when I told her that I never fought with my friends.
It feels like I’d failed a test I hadn’t even known about.
—
I call Jade as soon as I’m closed in my room. She picks up on the first ring. “Have you heard anything?”
“No. But that cop—the woman from yesterday—she just left my house.” I glance out my window at the driveway, watching snow fall on the rectangle of pavement where Ellie Knepper had parked her cruiser.
“I talked to her today too.” Jade’s voice is ragged. “They’re supposed to make a statement on the news about it tonight. Announce she’s officially a missing person and tell people there’s gonna be a vigil. Did you hear about Cliff?”
My stomach drops to my toes. “No. What happened?”
“Apparently someone heard him and Bridget get into a huge fight at Sully’s party. Bridge confronted him after someone saw Cliff outside talking to Bailey by her car.” Jade’s voice goes warbly. “Cliff left the party alone, all pissed off.”
My head is cottony. I think of the deer blood in Cliff’s backyard. In Cliff’s mind, Bailey had cost him his scholarship, and now probably his girlfriend too. Could he really have hated Bailey enough to get rid of her, though?
“I hate myself so much,” Jade whispers. “I was upstairs smoking a stupid joint while all of this was going down. If I hadn’t listened to her, made sure she got home okay—”
“There’s no way you could have known.” I think of Ellie Knepper’s reluctance to talk about Cliff. The way she seemed to be grasping at something bigger. I pull at a loose thread of yarn in the blanket draped over my bed. “Hey—did you tell the cop what we did Friday night?”
“No. She didn’t ask.”
I glance at my bedroom door. “I need you to do something,” I whisper. “If the police ask about the barn, don’t say Lauren was there with us. If Ashley knew, she’d flip out.”
“Hold up.” There’s rustling on Jade’s end, then the sound of a door closing. “Why would they ask about what we did Friday night?”
“I don’t know, if they’re trying to retrace all of Bailey’s movements—Jade, promise me. It’s one thing if I snuck out, but if I brought my sister—”
“Jeez, okay, slow down. So we just don’t say we were ever there at all. I mean, technically we were trespassing, and we could get in trouble for the roof. If they ask what we did Friday night, we just say we drove around like we always do.”
A slick of sweat comes to my hands. Lying to Ashley is one thing, but lying to the police is another. It’s a dangerous road to go down.
“Hey, I gotta go,” Jade says darkly before I can answer. “Bay is about to make her TV debut.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Everyone has seen the news.
Bailey’s social media pages are flooded with comments.
Please come home!!
Praying for you…
Jade and I are tagged in some of them. Thinking of you guys. Stay strong! Messages of support, from the dance team girls to underclassmen I don’t even know.
Bailey has suddenly become the most popular person in school.
I’m in bed, compulsively refreshing the news story about her disappearance on my phone. The TV spot was useless—just a flash of Bailey’s school photo, then a selfie pulled from her profile picture. A plea for anyone with information to call a special tip line the sheriff’s office has set up.
The news story doesn’t tell me anything I don’t know. Police are still searching for Bailey Hammond’s car, a blue Honda Civic. She was last seen wearing a gray scoop-neck sweater over black leggings. The sheriff’s office is treating her disappearance as suspicious.
There’s no mention of Bailey’s phone, or that someone wiped everything off it.
The cable box below the TV in my room says it’s midnight. There are footsteps outside my door. My heart climbs into my throat; Lauren’s voice saying my name in that tiny voice of hers stops me from leaping out of my skin.
“Come in,” I say, quietly. Lauren is silent as she crawls into my bed.
“You can’t sleep?” I ask.