The problem with Marbella was that there weren’t very many places for big groups of kids to go. Not if they wanted to have a private conversation, and particularly not if they wanted to talk about how they were going to take revenge on their blackmailer. Too many kids hung out at Philz; the coffee shop I’d gone to with Raj didn’t have big enough tables; and we’d all come to hate the Bayview Diner, which we now associated with all this craziness.
Thank goodness for Raj, who took it upon himself to figure out a solution. It turned out one of the big chain restaurants on El Camino Real had private rooms you could reserve, as long as you ordered something. We’d have to suffer through terrible inauthentic Mexican food, but at least we’d be alone.
We arranged to meet at six, driving over in two cars. I picked up Raj and Alex, who reverted to their usual seats; Justin was responsible for everyone else. We rode to the restaurant in silence; for once, Alex didn’t bug me about the radio.
Justin was pulling into the parking lot just as we were. We waited by my Prius as he got out of the car, followed by Isabel and Becca, just as I’d expected. I avoided looking directly at them, which conveniently allowed me to avoid seeing whatever expression Becca might have had on her face as she looked at me.
The restaurant was tacky inside and out. The front was painted in yellow and red and green, with giant ceramic cacti flanking the entrance. An overly chipper middle-aged man confirmed our reservation and led us to the back room, which was covered in murals in the same bright colors as the outside. We sat down at the table set for six: I took a chair at one end, Alex and Raj on either side of me, and Isabel sat at the other, surrounded by Becca and Justin. When there had been five of us, I’d felt like we were all in it together; now that we were six, it felt like we’d been divided into teams. I hoped I was wrong about that, but Alex and Raj pretty much wanted to kill Isabel for talking; they weren’t having the same eye-contact issue I was, and their glares were practically verbal, they were so hostile. I wasn’t too happy about it myself, but I understood, even if I didn’t like it.
Instead of Not-Pinky, our cranky waitress at the Bayview Diner, we had a perky girl with a shiny blond ponytail. She looked young enough to go to school with us, but no one seemed to recognize her, and most Marbella kids didn’t have jobs. At least not during the school year. She set down six enormous glasses of water and two big bowls of chips with sides of salsa and asked if we wanted anything to drink.
“We’ll start with sodas, and a plate of nachos for the table,” Justin said. “Everyone?”
We all nodded.
The waitress gave us a big smile and went off to get our drinks. I finally steeled myself to look over at Becca. She, thankfully, wasn’t looking back at me; she was staring down at the table, which wasn’t like her. I wondered if she was scared. I would be, if I were her. I already was, myself. Just being at the table with her made me nervous. I wondered whether it would rise to the level of panic, whether I’d get that head-throbbing feeling, but something about sitting between Alex and Raj made me feel a little better.
The six of us waited quietly for our sodas to arrive. Technically Alex and I had been the ones to call for this meeting, but it didn’t feel like we were in charge now that Isabel had brought Becca into the mix. Once the waitress came back with our order and left, I waited for someone to start talking. But the silence continued, broken only by the sound of mariachi music piped through the speakers.
“Is anyone going to say anything?” Justin asked finally. “I feel like I’m the only one with nothing to volunteer here, so someone get this party started.”
“Not me,” Raj said. “I’m in the same position you are. Though I’m very curious to hear from Isabel.” He could have cut himself shaving on the sharpness in his voice.
“Fine,” she said. “You all went off without me and did your little detective thing and forgot to tell me what was going on. So I took matters into my own hands. Becca’s dad is a lawyer, and—”
“You did not tell Becca’s dad what’s going on,” I said, horrified. I loved Becca’s parents. The thought of them knowing what I’d done was almost as bad as my own parents finding out.
“I’m not an idiot. I told Becca everything I knew, and then I made Justin tell us the rest once I realized you were never going to call me back. She asked her dad about it as one of those things he likes, that thing lawyers always do, you know—”
“A hypothetical,” Becca said. It was the first time I’d actually heard her voice in so long, but it was almost as familiar to me as my own.
“Like he wouldn’t be curious why you were asking,” Alex said. “Seriously. We’re all so screwed I can’t even stand it.”