“Ask Milo. He’ll tell you. After he broke up with me by text, I got the whole thing out of him. I’d tanked half my exams and dropped four spots in the class ranking by that point.”
“Margot likes Milo, though. It was probably a normal hookup, not sabotage.” My voice sounds meek even to me.
“Perhaps.” Rebecca shrugs, but her heart’s not in it. “There’s a pattern of sabotage, however. You should talk to Autumn about varsity rowing.”
My stomach plummets. “Why?”
Rebecca offers a minx grin. “We always assumed it was you who did it, to get yourself the spot, but you seem so flummoxed by all of this, so maybe not. Talk to Autumn and Jason Wang. And Seth can tell you some choice facts about your dearly departed Emma. Now I’m hungry.” She hops down and grabs a gluten-free muffin, then presses the button to release the doors and delivers her parting shot. “Oh, and re Avery: I don’t know if she’s a killer. But I do know she’s gotten someone expelled. The word blackmail’s also been thrown around. In relation to you, actually.” She hums “Hail to the Chief” on her way out.
I test the waters on the Ivies’ group text, say my interview went fine, ask, “How about you guys?” No one responds. Not last night, and not this morning. Still, I start the day with purpose. I’m going to talk to Margot about that picture. She went off with Emma, and I want to know why. Luckily, I know precisely where she’ll be at 10:00 a.m.
A ghost passes through me in the doorway of AP Gov. It’s a coldness that snaps down my spine, a surreal sense like I shouldn’t be here. We always sat in the back-left corner. Now Emma’s desk is empty.
Margot’s in her seat, though. My mind flashes to that perfect French braid, Emma’s red sweater, them going up the stairs just hours before Emma died. Rebecca’s accusation hangs heavy in my mind. My blood begins to boil.
Still, I head over and take my usual seat.
“Hey,” I say, offering an encouraging smile. Talk to me, it says. Tell me the truth. Even though that’s ridiculous, because Margot has never opened up to me about a single thing.
“Coach Gray’s not coming. Our paper has been moved to January.” Margot yawns, like it isn’t bonkers that we get a month’s extension because our teacher is so traumatized. I also imagine Katherine Montfort will see red when our grades are held up.
“Do we have to stay here, then?” I stare at the empty desk at the front of the room. Half the class didn’t show up. “Wanna go grab a coffee? I’m flagging.”
Margot never says no to Starbucks. There’s a franchise branch in the Austen student center, because of course. And I have a strategy. We leave class and have our orders in hand within five minutes.
“It’s my treat,” I say before Margot can pull out her phone to pay. She has, naturally, ordered the most nauseatingly extra drink, which costs me almost five dollars, but it’s worth it to put her at ease. Except it doesn’t. Margot raises her perfectly sculpted eyebrows once we’ve settled into a quiet corner of the main lounge and fallen back into a set of puffy armchairs.
“You never treat,” Margot says, her words more venom than voice. Suspicious.
“I know.” High-pitched. I’m full of shit. But I forge on. “It actually makes me feel more centered, in a way, doing something nice for someone else. It’s a good distraction.”
Margot blows into the slotted opening in the lid. “So, what do you want to talk about?” She misses nothing.
I wish I knew how to approach Margot. But of all the Ivies, she and I have always been the least close. Margot doesn’t get intense and anxious about things like I do, and sometimes I’m certain she thinks I’m an alien. I’m always watching myself with Margot, so today is nothing new.
“How are you coping with everything? You know, emotionally?” We’ll approach this like pretend therapy. Friends share.
Margot shrugs a cashmere-covered shoulder. “It’s up and down each day. Weird things remind me of her, and I forget what happened.”
It takes all my strength not to say that it’s barely been forty-eight hours.
For a moment she’s lost in her own thoughts, remembering something specific that draws a hint of a smile. Then it becomes a scowl. “It wasn’t supposed to go this way. We were going to get into all our schools and graduate top of the class and go be fucking titans of industry. But not Emma anymore.” Margot sniffs, though I don’t see any tears. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to unload on you like that. Avery doesn’t want to talk about it. I’ve been feeling…” She shakes her head. “It’s nothing.”
“No, no it’s fine. I need to talk about it, too. Detective Cataldo doesn’t think I’m acting sad enough. She doesn’t get that if I don’t hold it all in, I’ll burst.” It doesn’t matter that I’m wary of Margot. It feels good to get out my anxious feelings.
“You are acting kind of weird, Liv.” Margot pointedly takes a swig of coffee. I remind myself who I’m talking to. Margot is a bear trap—she lures you in and then snaps at the perfect moment. I came here to get information.
“It’s not weird. I want to know what happened after I left. I feel guilty. The last time I saw her, she was digging her nails into my arm after I’d pulled her off Avery. I should have checked to see if she was okay. Did none of you talk to her after the fight?” A leading question I know the answer to.
“Emma was fine.” Margot snorts. “Last I saw her at the party, she was heading off for a hookup. A good lay to cure all ills. Think about it, Liv. Emma had everything she wanted, just the way she planned. I’m sure she died happy.”
Holy shit.
“What about you?” I hit back. Kid gloves off now. “Did you get lucky with Milo? I saw the pictures, and you two looked comfy.”
Margot tilts her head, assessing me. “Why would you ask that? Are you into him or something? Sorry, but you’re not his type.”
“What’s his type?”
She offers me a look that simply says not you. Rebecca was right. Time to wrap this up.
“So, you’re saying Emma left the party with Tyler? What time was that? You told the detective?”
An exasperated look passes over Margot’s pristine features. Still, she indulges me after a long drag of her sugary drink. She finishes with a wet smack, already standing to leave. “I never said it was Tyler.” She throws her bag over her shoulder. “And yes, I told the police. You should leave the detective work to them and stop snooping, Liv. Interrogating your friends is a bad look.” With that, she makes for the exit.