Cat had been right. But Leo wasn’t just feeding stories to The Shrieking Violet, he was The Shrieking Violet. Not only to dismantle Angeline’s campaign, but to take her down—her, personally.
He’d wanted her to know it was him. There was no other reason for him bringing up her birthmark.
She should have been livid. She should have screamed at him in all caps.
Her breaths came quick, each one stinging deep.
How did they even get here?
She didn’t bother to blink away her tears and texted through blurred vision.
Angeline: I know The Shrieking Violet is you.
Then she blocked his number and deleted his contact information, her body folding in on itself, her face buried in the soft fur of the purring cat, her heart heavy in her chest the way it had been only twice before: the morning that Cat flushed her wish rock and the night after her dad had left.
25
When Cat Wraps Herself in Yellow Caution Tape
9 DAYS TO THE ELECTION
Cat passed by her bedroom door, closed more than an hour ago by Angeline. She helped Gramps return the scrapbooks to his closet and asked, “Think Grams would approve of me following in your footsteps?”
“Likely, though she’d steal your passport and stash it in the freezer.” More nostalgia than usual dampened his smile. “Ah, she’d want you to be happy. That’s all she ever wanted for any of us. But I swear she’d smack the back of your dad’s head if she were here. Can’t help but feel responsible. I raised him.”
A tightness gripped Cat’s chest. “Well, you raised us too, and I think we’re mostly doing okay,” she said while silently cursing her father.
“Not okay. Great.” Gramps settled on the edge of the bed and gestured for Cat to sit beside him. “Both of you. Angeline’s got your grams’s verve and sass and isn’t afraid to show it. But you know something, Cathleen, so do you. Maybe you use your talents differently, but you are just as brave and smart and witty and ambitious as your sister.” He kissed her forehead. “Couldn’t be prouder of you.”
Love and appreciation for all her grandfather had done bloomed in her chest. If only her grams was still with them. Cat’s chest tightened as her eyes fell upon the framed photo on his nightstand. Grams standing behind Cat and Angeline in matching rash guard shirts and cowboy hats on Eggshell Beach. Cat was holding a toy Woody, and Angeline, Jessie. They’d just jumped the waves, the whole time Angeline unafraid, which had made Cat unafraid.
“Sometimes we see what we want to see instead of what is,” Gramps said. “And the danger is it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy. But you know what’s fortunate? Those who set the prophecy have the power to change it.”
* * *
Change things with Angeline? Could she? Fill an Instagram with photos of the two of them on Eggshell Beach, in the hatchback, on . . . double dates? Would that be the life she wanted? All the things the Fit to Print award and Northwestern and her goal of being a correspondent never made room for?
She stumbled over Tartan, who scampered down the hall with Angeline’s filming ribbon between his teeth with as much pride as if it were a giant rat.
Cat quietly opened their bedroom door in case Angeline was filming. They’d spoken since last night, but they hadn’t spoken about last night. Now part of her was afraid to, like if they did, it wouldn’t happen again.
As Cat peeked inside, she saw Angeline curled around the angel pillow on her bed, video chatting.
“No, I’m not sorry I asked you,” Angeline said with an ache in her voice. “I already knew. Maybe I always did.”
“The IP address proves your sister was right all along,” Maxine’s voice said.
“I guess I should have listened,” Angeline said.
“Now what? Tell Schwartzy?”
“You think he’d get in trouble?”
“Oh no, you didn’t say that. Leo writes all that crap about you in The Shrieking Violet, and you’re worried about him getting in trouble?”
The Shrieking Violet.
Leo.
Cat’s fists clenched.
And her heart sank.
She’d known it in her gut, yet she’d hoped, same as Angeline, that she was wrong. Cat pictured her sister’s face when they’d gotten home from the hospital. Not just worried about Leo but lined with guilt. She could still feel Angeline’s fingers in her hair, remembered, despite all the years in between, her own trailing through Angeline’s wet strands that night she’d come home from their dad’s.
No matter what Angeline had done, Leo had gone too far. And Cat hadn’t gone far enough. She’d never once responded to one of the threads calling Angeline “Hothead Quinn.” She hadn’t defended her.
Angeline’s voice lowered. “Maybe I should just bow out.”
“Nuh-uh,” Maxine said. “You’re not dropping out. My polls have had you ahead this whole time.”
“And now?”
“Did I tell you my voting app’s nearly done?”
“Nice swerve. But, yeah, that’s what I thought about the polls. I’ve seen the comments on Leo’s Insta.”
“Voters are fickle. Which means you can get them back.”
Tartan ran across Cat’s feet, hit the end of the hall, and darted back. Just as his paw landed beside her foot, she dropped and tugged the ribbon out of his mouth.
It was chewed up and wet. But she tightened her hand around it.
* * *
In the newsroom the next day after school, Ravi drew his latest cartoon: Acedia as the Titanic, Angeline on a raft, each limb stretched out to save a Frankengirl who was dangling in the water, her phone in her hand videoing herself, and Leo, his back turned, partying on another boat. The influences of the exhibit at the Boston Public Library showed in the pop culture reference and the one-panel scale. But he’d made it feel entirely his own. She wanted to say that, to compliment him, but she didn’t want it to seem like she’d been spying.
She faced her computer, plugged in The Shrieking Violet’s website, and the urge to scream at Leo returned. She wanted to turn him in, but she didn’t want to make things worse for Angeline. The article on her birthmark had left her more embarrassed than #HotheadQuinn. Maybe it was because the latter didn’t have guys checking out her ass at every turn.
Cat would like to think the administration would discipline Leo, but even if it did, would some see him as a martyr? Would some claim Maxine, as the best friend, couldn’t be trusted? Could it all backfire on Angeline?