Her heart pumped with adrenaline, just like it had when she’d hunted down the student selling the school’s Wi-Fi password last year. This was the type of reporting she was good at, that she’d somehow let get lost in her rivalry with The Shrieking Violet.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Leo and his mom on the television in the living room. The local news had rolled into one of the national morning talk shows. She didn’t need to unmute to know what was being said.
She returned to her computer. By the time Angeline, still in her yellow-flowered sleep jumpsuit, came into the living room, Cat was ready. Though not for the red lining her sister’s eyes.
Angeline yawned. “How long have you been up?”
“Long enough to have come up with a plan. I could use you, if you’re up for it.”
Angeline pulled out a chair beside Cat. “I’m all for helping Leo.”
“And you.”
“Me? I’m not the one about to be expelled.”
“No, but you are the one who violated your confidentiality clause. Unintentionally, but still. Let’s get ahead of it.”
“It’s too late, Cat.”
“Maybe not.” Cat spun her computer around and clicked on the email she’d drafted when she’d first gotten up. “You just have to send it from your account.”
Angeline started reading. “Wait, you want me to admit to Evelyn’s Epic Everyday that I let the boot camp slip?”
“Keep reading. You tell them the truth: that an invasion of your privacy led to the information being released. This way it looks like you aren’t hiding anything. You’ll provide definitive proof or you’ll excuse yourself.”
“Just drop out? And”—she pointed to the screen—“invite them to keep the deposit?”
“They were going to anyway. Offering it up shows how genuine you are.”
Angeline scanned the email again. “You really think I should send this?”
“I know my judgment hasn’t been entirely spot-on lately, but I think it’ll help. At least I can’t see how it hurts.” She grabbed the television remote and hit rewind, pausing on the photo of Leo and his mom at that event in the harbor. “Not anymore.”
Angeline’s eyes clouded. “Imagine them watching this. After all his mom’s done to get here, this is the thing people are going to be talking about. Even if you manage to clear Leo, it won’t matter.”
Cat tried to respond. The words filled her mouth, but releasing them felt silly, childish even. But she believed what she believed. And she wouldn’t let this take it from her. “It will. The truth always matters. Even if it’s not reported, it matters. And it won’t be me who clears Leo, it’ll be us.”
Angeline smiled with an unexpected warmth. “Where do we start?”
33
When Angeline Encounters a Green Ghost
2 DAYS TO THE (NOW CANCELED) ELECTION
Angeline’s thumb cramped, and she took a break.
She’d been sitting at the small white table in the frozen yogurt shop scrolling through photos and videos from Maxine’s party since school let out. Fortunately many of her classmates had used the #LastSummerBlastOnTheCliffs hashtag that Maxine had coined in her text invites. For each pic or video using the hashtag, Angeline noted who posted it and worked her way through that person’s account from the night of the party through the current date to catch any later or throwback posts. As she went, she also marked who else was tagged in those posts and began running through their social media accounts too, finding more posts that didn’t use the hashtag.
She still hadn’t found anyone wearing a green sweatshirt.
Angeline flexed her thumb and returned to her phone. She didn’t even realize Cat had arrived until her sister handed her a spoon to share what looked to be blueberry topped with granola.
“No luck yet,” Cat said. “I spoke to all three, but none of the other students I identified in Tad’s video remember seeing anyone in a green sweatshirt.”
“And Tamara?”
“Waiting for her to text me back. What about you?”
“Never thought I’d say this, but social media is totally failing me.” Angeline dug into Cat’s yogurt. “Kid’s a green ghost.”
Cat grabbed Angeline’s phone and began to scroll.
“Do me a favor, check my DMs,” Angeline said. “I reached out to a few people who seemed to be in Maxine’s living room the whole night. See if anyone wrote back. And ignore what the trolls are saying.”
The haters that had come along with Angeline’s potential involvement in the Frankengirls had turned her off reading comments for whatever was left of her influencer lifetime.
“Hmm,” Cat said. “Yeah, I can see how ‘You are an inspiration. Never give up!’ is a tough one to swallow.”
“Real funny, Cat,” Angeline said.
“I’m serious.” Cat began reading out loud:
Saying good-bye to twenty years of yo-yo dieting and hello to healthy eating because we are all #MoreThanOurParts. I believe in you!
I’m applying to med school because #MoreThanOurParts means #GirlPower and #BrainPower! My wings are fluttering!
My school’s adopting my peer jury proposal. Because of you! xxx
Angeline’s heart lifted, then fell. Because these had to be the exception. “So a couple don’t hate me.”
“It’s more than a couple. Haven’t you seen all these heart emojis and prayer hands and—”
“It’s corny as hell, I know.” Angeline jabbed her spoon back into the frozen yogurt. She knew what Cat thought of Ask an Angel.
“Maybe . . . but people posted them. Your followers seem to care.”
“In the way that can only exist in the vortex that is the internet, right?” Angeline reclaimed her phone. “It’s fine, Cat. You don’t have to pretend you believe in all this.”
“But I don’t have to believe in this to believe in you. I didn’t treat this with enough respect. I’m sorry, Ang.”
Angeline twisted toward her sister, surprise sending a tiny electric shock up her spine. “I . . .” She nodded slightly, a warmth spreading across her chest. She then read the comments for herself. Her followers did seem to care about her, and for maybe the first time she wasn’t stretching the truth when she said she cared back.
Then, her phone dinged as a text arrived from Tamara.