“Sorry. Is everything all right? What did Laura want?” Her eyes look like they might pop.
I try to breathe evenly, but it doesn’t help the sick feeling in my stomach. “I have to tell you something.” I pick at my fingernails. “You’re not going to like it. But it’s important.”
She squints at me. “Ooookay.”
“That day we worked on the decade project at your house, I snuck into Seth’s room.”
Emily’s shoulders sink. A red ringlet has come loose from her ponytail to hang in front of her face. I see Peter off by the lockers, keeping an eye on me. But I can’t muster a smile to show him I’m fine.
“And I found some things. Scary things. I found a photo of Melody Davenport that was taken when she wasn’t looking. At the drugstore. And”—I swallow—“Melody’s yearbook photo. It had the eyes cut out.” I look at Emily, but whatever I was expecting never manifests on her face.
“Did you look at the rest of the yearbook?” She stares at the floor.
“N-no,” I stammer. “The page with Melody was bookmarked. I looked quickly. What was in the rest of the yearbook?”
Emily remains slouched. “My brother had a lot of tormentors. People did mean things to him. Every day. Seth never retaliated—at least, not in real life. The yearbook was where he got his revenge. He trashed all of their photos.”
“What?”
“Melody’s photo was nothing special. Sometimes he did worse than cutting out the eyes. It doesn’t mean he killed any of those people.”
I could hardly fault him there. It wasn’t much different than scrawling my angry, irrational thoughts in that notebook. “But what about the photo from the drugstore?”
She sighs. “Melody started following Seth around the last few weeks before she died. Harassing him at work. In town. Even at the house once. I don’t know why, but I saw her do it myself.” She shrugs. “Ironic, isn’t it? Melody loved calling my brother a stalker. Turns out she was the one stalking him. I guess he got tired of it, and took the photo to try and build a case against her. For a restraining order. I tried to tell the cops, but Seth never actually filed anything. They couldn’t fathom that a beautiful girl like Melody could be anything but a victim.”
I can barely hold myself up now. The hall zooms in and out of focus.
“Look, I’m not denying Seth’s weirdness. He’s a loner.” Emily’s voice is strained. “But he didn’t do anything.” More ringlets have sprung loose, creating a halo of curls about her head. “Melody, the rest of this school, people like you”—she jabs a finger—“made my brother what he is. Maybe he’s creepy. But does it make him a murderer? I guess we both know your answer.” She’s trembling. “You’re trying to tell me you turned my brother in to the cops.”
“Emily, I’m so sorry. Still, there’s Melody’s hair in his car. I had nothing to do with that.”
“No, but you and the rest of the jerks at this school made him a big, fat target, didn’t you? You led the real killer straight to him.” A sob escapes and she spins around.
“Emily, wait.” I try to reach for her arm, but she runs off. The bell rings, and Emily disappears into the masses.
Peter emerges as students siphon off into classrooms. “Cass, what happened?”
I’m not sure I can speak. Shock and guilt combine in my throat. I cough. “I was the one who gave Seth to the cops.” Peter looks surprised, but his arm wraps around me. “And now it turns out it probably wasn’t him after all.” My voice cracks as I push out, “Also, Emily hates me because I told her what I did.”
Peter exhales against my collarbone. “Why do you think it wasn’t Seth?”
“Laura says she was Seth’s alibi. She’s going to the cops later, so I guess everything will sort itself out. But Emily’s never going to forgive me.” I lean on his shoulder as my mind plays back Emily’s figure racing down Hathaway Hall to get away from me.
My fears are coming true. Soon I’ll have no one. And now Seth’s alibi just resurrected that outrageous idea I keep trying to retire—the possibility that Melody’s necklace is still missing because Brandon has it. The killer has the notebook; he has proof I wanted Melody dead. Who in the world would frame Seth when I was the obvious target?
Brandon. He knows if I go down, he goes down.
Peter places a hand on my cheek. “Cass, you can’t blame yourself for Seth. That guy needs to be in prison.” He tilts my chin toward his. “The cops found Melody’s DNA in his car. You can’t listen to Laura. You said yourself she’s an evil hag demon from hell. She’s probably lying.”
“Why would she lie about being Seth’s girlfriend? It’s not exactly a coveted role.”
“She wants to be the center of attention, like always. Or maybe she was in on it with Seth. Just stop worrying. You did the right thing.”
Maybe she was in on it with Seth. And now she’s inventing an alibi to get him released. She must’ve been beyond fed up with Melody always getting in the way of her relationships.
“But if I was wrong, a killer is still out there,” I whisper, my mind flashing again to the flowery card Laura hid in her backpack. Peter pulls me into the crook of his arm, and together, we walk to fifth period.
27
I spend the last two classes of the day trying to make sense of everything. Laura must have left out some detail. Could Seth have slipped out for an hour? After school, I loiter in Hathaway Hall, like the answer might spill from someone’s congested locker. I’m supposed to be on my way to practice, but a blond head of hair flutters by.
Change of plans. Gracie Davenport is headed to the parking lot. I follow her.
I expect her to stop in front of a car, but her willowy steps continue through the lot, to the path behind it. Of course. Gracie doesn’t drive. Melody used to drop her off and pick her up. She probably has no choice but to walk now. I speed up, kicking dirt into the air as I take a shortcut across the bare patch that borders the lot. “Hey Gracie, wait up!”
Gracie spins around, a shadow crossing her face when she sees who flagged her down. “Cassidy?”
“Sorry, this is going to sound strange. I should start by saying how sorry I am about Melody.”
“Thanks,” she mumbles with uncertainty.
“But I-I need to ask you something. It’s about the investigation.”
Gracie shifts her book bag on her shoulder. “I’m not really the one you should be talking to.”