“Kenneth, who?” I reply, playing along. Rationalizations as to why I jumped into that kiss like I did skim over the surface of my thoughts. Never mind that I’ve just sprinted past one of the lines we drew in the sand. I couldn’t very well refuse to kiss my apparent boyfriend, could I? I have to make it look realistic, which I did. And then some.
Deep down, I sift past the bull I’m trying to sell everyone else, and myself. Kenneth never kissed me with that amount of fire. Apparently, the antagonism Ricardo and I share makes for some steamy lip-locking. It absolutely cannot happen again.
The scent of piping hot, buttery popcorn wafts through the lounge. The microwave beeps.
“Is it safe to turn around?” Cal calls over his shoulder.
“It is safe,” Mikhail replies.
Without thinking, Adrienne tries to take Mikhail’s hand. “Oh shoot,” she exclaims, turning red. “I forgot about my dare.”
Stifling a chuckle, Mikhail wraps his hand around hers. A trace of a smile lingers. It’s the most I’ve ever seen him smile, except for when we went swing dancing last semester.
“You made it six minutes,” Genevieve says, holding up her phone to show us the timer. “That’s not bad.”
Adrienne ducks her head, biting her lip.
“Okay, okay. It’s my turn,” Gul says, standing up. “I choose dare, so make it good.”
This one, I’ve got. “Since we all know how well you love to gossip…”
Everyone groans in agreement, and Gul shrugs, unapologetic.
People are gathering in the lounge to watch our game of truth or dare. The circle of bodies around us makes me feel like I’m in a fish bowl. Good thing all these people weren’t around for my kiss with Ricardo. That would have been so embarrassing.
“I want you to go over to the window and narrate the weather to us. And make it boring.” I draw out the last word in emphasis.
“That’s easy,” Gul says, but tromps over to the window anyway.
“Do it in a phony English accent,” Cal puts in, plopping down in his armchair and munching on hot popcorn right out of the bag. “To make it harder.”
Gul smiles and looks out the window. “That I can do.” Clearing her throat, she begins “We’re here in downtown District of Columbia, and I’m Gul Abidi with the weather. We’ve got a cold front moving in that will result in lots of snow overnight, but don’t expect it to linger. We’re calling for a warm, sunny day tomorrow that will melt the snow into ice…”
Recognition dawns like a flare in the dark as Gul speaks. She grows more animated as everyone jeers at her butchering of a London accent.
I’ve heard that accent before. In a recording of a 911 call.
Gul was the one who called emergency services after the accident that killed the professor. She must have seen what happened. She knows who killed Professor Rook.
14
Grady is still laughing as Gul sits down beside him. “That was funnier than sending someone on a snipe hunt,” he says, holding up his hand for a high five.
She slaps her palm against his. “Thanks.”
My instincts are humming. I’m right about the anonymous caller being her; I’m 99% sure of it.
“What’s a snipe?” Adrienne asks, twirling a red curl around a finger.
Grady’s smile is sly as he wraps an arm around Gul’s shoulders. “Come on down to Austin sometime and I’ll show you.”
“Is it some kind of lizard or something?” Adrienne presses, disgust written on her features.
“They don’t exist,” Cal says between bites of popcorn. “What they do is send some dummy out into the woods with a sack and tell him snipes are easy to catch. It’s a joke. Saw it on MyStream once.”
“That doesn’t sound very nice,” Adrienne murmurs.
“It’s hilarious,” Grady says. “You never sent someone on a wild goose chase?” His eyes cut to me before he turns to whisper something in Gul’s ear, making her smile.
Adrienne shakes her head vehemently. I’m not surprised. She’s way too sweet to send someone on a fool’s errand simply for a laugh. I wish I could send Kenneth on a snipe hunt.
I must be staring at Gul, because Ricardo nudges my leg with his knee. “Hey,” he whispers. “You okay?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
Leaning closer, he whispers in my ear. “It looked like you’d seen a ghost back there. I’ve never seen you go so white, even when you sprained your ankle last semester.”
“Later,” I whisper back.
Cal munches loudly on his popcorn. “Who’s next?”
Genevieve and Adrienne look around the circle, looking for the next person for the hot seat.
Gul’s phone vibrates, and when she checks it, she sneaks a glance toward Grady, but he’s not paying attention, instead running a hand over the seam of the couch’s arm. Shoving it into the pocket of her designer jeans, Gul stands up, tucking her black hair behind her ears. “I’ll be right back.”
I shoot out of my seat. “I’m coming too.”
“Suit yourself.” She shrugs, tossing her hair over her shoulder and traipsing down the staircase.
I follow her until we’re out of earshot of everyone, and then I swivel around in front of her. “We need to talk.”
“About what?” Gul takes another step down, unbothered, but I keep pace with her.
"You were the one who called 911 to report Professor Rook’s accident, weren’t you?”
Gul’s foot hovers over the next step, my words seemingly arresting her in place. Surprise flashes over her features before her expression closes off.
A group of guys come loping up the stairs, interrupting us. They greet Gul and me with casual head nods as they flow around us on both sides.
I’m quiet until the tide of bodies recedes up the stairs.
Gul picks up speed as she descends. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I jab my thumb over my shoulder. “I heard you up there. You used that horrendous accent when you talked to the emergency operator. I recognized your voice. Don’t even bother denying it.”
She shakes her head. “You must have misheard. I’ve never called 911 in my life. It wasn’t me. Here. Check my phone.” She unlocks it and holds it out in her palm.
I snatch the device out of her hand and scroll through the call log. My confidence drops for a second as I look, finding nothing. There’s no trace of a call to 911. Could I have been mistaken? Huffing, I give it back. “You probably deleted it, for some reason.”
“I don’t know what to tell you.” Gul tucks it into her pocket and walks down the hall toward one of the shared bathrooms on our floor.
I start to follow her, to push her further, but she waves me off over her shoulder. “I’ll be back in a minute. I don’t need company.”
Grady passes me as I jog up the stairs. “Need a snack,” he says. “See you in a few.”
Ten minutes later, after Cal has doorbell ditched Professor Bins’s private rooms, and Mikhail has tried to recite the alphabet backwards, with hilarious results, I realize Grady hasn’t returned, and neither has Gul.