Dead Ringer (5 page)

Laura

Laura took a deep breath. She wasn’t
quite ready to walk through Jeff Haskell’s front door, especially since, from
the sounds of it, the party was already in full swing and it was only ten
o’clock. She peered down at the billowy, Aztec-print crop top and ripped jeans
she’d chosen for this very first EHS social event, wondering if it would make
her stand out even more.
I’m not supposed to care
, Laura thought to
herself, but that was tricky now that there was Charlie to impress and Amanda
to avoid. Neither would happen if she continued to stand on the Haskells’ front
stoop. Laura turned the knob and walked in, head held high.

It was Amanda who greeted her the minute she entered the
packed living room. “You came!” she said. “Charlie said you might! Let’s get
you something to drink!”

Amanda didn’t know that Laura had heard what she said to
Charlie after lunch that first day of school, so she didn’t know that Laura
would see right through this welcome-wagon routine. But the best friend act
benefitted Laura in more ways than one. She could meet the senior class on the
arm of their lady leader
and
carefully dig for some clues about Amanda’s
deal with Charlie.

Laura had to hand it to Amanda; she was an expert escort.
“Hey! Johnny, T, Kev. Come here. You need to know Laura immediately. She’s
brand new, from California, and couldn’t be cuter. Come fight over her.”

Every intro was just as quick, cute, and smooth, so that by
the time Laura made one lap around the house, her number was officially entered
into ten guys’ phones. On more than one occasion she actually heard Amanda shut
down someone’s whisper about the Sarah similarities.

“So what,” she said to some super-muscly dude wearing a
way-too-tight tank top, “You look like half the cast of
Jersey Shore
and
you don’t see anyone staring at you. Get over it.”

Thanks to Amanda, Laura started to actually feel the
confidence she was channeling when she’d walked into to Jeff’s house. She could
be herself in her funky print top with her California attitude and find a way
to fit in with this tight-knit group that had been partying together for years.

It wasn’t until Laura was finally guided out to the fire pit
tucked to the left of the pool that she got part two of the Amanda treatment.

“So, which guy would you like?” Amanda said. She was barely
even looking at Laura as she took what seemed like a thousand photos of her
bare feet dangling in front of the fire pit.

“What do you mean?” Laura said.

“You met like a dozen guys tonight. Who do you want to
date?”

“Oh. Um. I’m not sure,” Laura said. “Do I have to pick one
right now?”

“Yes.” The sweetness in Amanda’s voice was officially gone,
replaced with that bossy tone Laura heard her use with Charlie.

“And why is that?” Laura said. Dealing with Amanda required
an equally direct approach.

“Because it will help you keep your mind off
my
boyfriend.”

With that, Laura understood everything that had happened for
the past hour. It was the classic mean-girl power play. The only thing that
made her feel better was the knowledge that Amanda viewed her as enough of a
threat to spend time pretending to be her friend. Laura didn’t respond for a
moment, which Amanda took as an invitation to explain herself further.

“Listen, Laura, Charlie is damaged goods. Seriously damaged.
Even if you could have him, you wouldn’t want him.” Now Amanda actually seemed
genuine.

“What’s wrong with him?” Laura asked.

“It’s not my place to tell you, but let’s just say he’s been
through a really hard time, and he’s only just getting over it all.”

“So then why do
you
want him?” Laura asked. Amanda’s
eyebrows almost shot out of her head. It took her another second or so to
respond, and when she did it was with a tone so scary that Laura’s skin
actually tingled.

“I’ll just say that Charlie and I are eternally bound, and
nothing can change that.”

Charlie

“Let’s go, Sanders! Belly flop
contest out back! Get your ass in the pool!” Miller yelled from the kitchen
through to the living room where Charlie was standing with Billy Cosentino and
Cole Williams-Ficarra, two senior guys from the team.

Charlie turned to yell out the sliding glass doors, “Nice!
Be out in a minute!” In a minute, Miller would forget the whole thing.

Miller could make a competition out of absolutely anything,
but Charlie wasn’t in the mood. A lot of that had to do with the fact that he
couldn’t look at him without hearing the recording from that creepy VidBit
playing over and over in his head.

All week long, Charlie had been trying to figure out the
source of what he assumed was a prank. Maybe Miller was just being a dick. It
was possible considering he was known for hiding various vile-smelling things
in the lockers of their teammates. And one time, every single player found
their boxers replaced with ladies’ thongs when they came in to change after
practice. But Charlie had trouble believing that Miller would joke about that
night, which left him clueless about the source. The obvious next step should
have been to discuss it with Kit or Amanda, but Charlie couldn’t bring himself
to ruffle those feathers. They didn’t need an excuse to turn on the paranoia
again. For now, Charlie would wait.

As Charlie turned back to Billy and Cole, he saw Amanda
slink into the room. The guys clearly saw her, too. She wore dark, tight jeans
with tan boots and a simple, white V-neck T-shirt. Charlie could make out the
lace of her bra underneath the shirt, and he knew that was the detail Amanda
had spent the most time deciding on—which lace bra would peek out just
enough to be noticed? Most girls went through some period of awkwardness
somewhere around the middle-school years, but Amanda had gone straight from
cute to hot.

She smiled in his direction and Charlie smiled back. Charlie
often wondered if things would have been easier for him had he and Amanda
stayed together after everything. She certainly made the case for that when he
finally called it off. Charlie thought back on that painful moment now—Amanda’s
uncharacteristic tears and her even more uncharacteristic begging.

“We need each other, Carly,” she’d said. “Who’ll tell you to
stop being so naïve and me to stop being such a bitch?” She wasn’t entirely
wrong, but Charlie was of the opinion that what they needed most after
everything that happened was space. He would have preferred that Amanda didn’t
claim to have dumped him, but it wasn’t worth correcting the rumor mill. At the
time, he just needed to be apart from her. Of course, since then Amanda had
taken it upon herself to treat him like they’d never broken up, insofar as the
typical girlfriend discipline was concerned.

“Are you going to wear that dirty polo?” she’d say if he
picked her up for a party, or, “were you going to tell me you invited Cassie
Butler to homecoming?” Charlie doubted much would change if they became a
couple again; Amanda would just be able to do all those things out in the open.

“How are you tonight, Charlie?” Kit said. She was taking a
break from following Amanda around and was now standing in front of him holding
a red Solo cup with her name drawn on in bubble letters.

Before Charlie could answer, he felt his cell buzz in his
pocket. Everyone he knew was here, so who could be contacting him? Then it hit
him.
Laura
. He’d given her his cellphone number in the newspaper office
earlier. She must have been texting to let him know whether or not she was
coming. It was already eleven o’clock, so Charlie assumed she was going to be a
no-show. Maybe this text was her apology? Charlie pulled the phone out of his
pocket and punched in his password.

“Something wrong?” Kit asked, but Charlie didn’t hear her. He
was too busy trying to understand what he was seeing.

The buzz wasn’t a text from Laura. It was another VidBit
message from CO.

“Mom’s calling,” he blurted out as he quickly slid through an
open door and into the hallway.

 Charlie debated whether he should open the message at
all once he was behind the locked bathroom door. He could see that it was
another video, but this one had a landing image instead of a black screen, and
it was an image he knew very well—the back-corner booth of the Plaza 18
Diner. Everyone else in Englewood went to the Golden Bell, which was closer to
town, but Amanda had been genius enough to suggest they travel two towns over that
night so they wouldn’t be recognized.

Charlie couldn’t help himself. He touched the screen to play
the video. The image of the booth didn’t change, but once again there was a
voice—this time his.

“
I feel like I should propose a toast. To forgiveness, friendship,
and the future.
”

Charlie felt his entire body stiffen. He could see himself
now—his fake smile, his flask raised lowly so none of the waitresses
would see, and his free hand resting on Amanda’s thigh. That was the last thing
that was said before heading out that night. This wasn’t some weird
re-enactment, and it wasn’t a mistake—Miller’s video hadn’t been, either.
Someone had been recording them that night, and now they were trying to terrify
Charlie.

“Charlie? Are you okay in there?” Kit said from the other
side of the bathroom door. Without thinking, Charlie gave the toilet a fake
flush and rushed out the door.

“Hey, sorry,” he said. Kit pulled him aside and leaned in
close.

“You were in there for awhile. Are you okay? I can drive you
home if you need.”

“No, no. I’m cool. I was talking to Mom, and it was just
easier to hear inside there.”

Kit saw right through that lie, but before she could push
him on it, both their attention shifted to the exact same thing: Laura Rivers
walking from the back patio directly toward the front door.

“Hey! You came!” Charlie blurted out. “Wait. Where are you
going?”

“Yeah. Hi. I didn’t see you. I’ve been here for a bit, but
I’m actually not feeling so well,” she said. The somber look on Laura’s face made
it was clear that was an excuse.

“Was someone rude to you?” Charlie asked.

“These guys can be the worst,” Kit chimed in. “Come with me.
We’ll go cozy up by the fire pit and talk about where you get all your
amazing
outfits.”

“I was actually just out there,” Laura said. “With Amanda. I’m
going to head out now, though. Thanks for inviting me, Charlie,” she said, and
before he had the chance to say another word, she was gone.

Something clicked in Charlie’s brain after Laura shut the
front door. He spun around from where he was standing with Kit until he had a
view through the sliding glass doors of the kitchen straight into the back
yard. Then he saw exactly what he thought he would see: Amanda staring back at
him, smiling. Once again Charlie’s entire body went stiff, but this time it was
with anger, not fear. “No…” he suddenly heard himself say out loud.

“No what?” Kit asked.

“Nothing,” Charlie said. “I’ll be right back.”

Within what felt like a second, he was standing directly
next to Amanda, shaking.

“Whoa. What is up with you?” she asked.

“I’m done,” Charlie said.

“With what?” Amanda asked.

“With you. You’ve done some sick things in your life,
Amanda, but this tops it all. You recorded that night? And now you’re using it
to blackmail me because I showed an ounce of interest in Laura?! What is wrong
with you?”

“
Sshh
. Stop, Charlie. People are staring at us.”

“I don’t care. I supported you every single time you needed
me, Amanda, even if it meant ruining my own life. I don’t deserve this shit.”

“Charlie. You’re scaring me. What is going on?”

“Oh, I’m scaring you?! Now you know how it feels.”

Charlie didn’t wait for whatever excuses Amanda would come
up with next. He turned around and walked away, leaving her with the attention
of every single person in the backyard.

Sasha

Sasha stayed up until three thirty
in the morning two nights in a row combing through all the communication about
Laura Rivers, Englewood’s famous new girl. With her parents watching, she had
to limit the waking work hours, meaning more 10:00 p.m. to early morning
sessions. It was exhausting, but it was worth it. She now had an incredibly
clear picture of all the chatter going on at EHS.

After the first read-through, Sasha decided she would need a
system to catalogue all the incoming information. The fastest way to find the
source of any incriminating chatter would be to separate out the non-relevant
details.

She spent the next few days sorting the content into four
categories of communication. The first group was comprised of people who gave
only passing mention to the fact that Laura looked like Sarah. Sasha figured
out their names, and then ran that list against the Englewood High roster. It
turns out they were mostly underclassmen gossiping about all the events of that
first school day. The fact that the new girl looked like the dead girl was just
one item of conversation among dozens. This group would be labeled green. None
of them were even in school with Sarah when she died, so Sasha considered them
the lowest priority.

Next was level two: people who lingered on the topic of
Sarah Castro-Tanner for much longer. Sasha ran these names against the school’s
list and found out that it was equally weighted between juniors and seniors
wondering how Laura felt about resembling their infamous former classmate.
Mostly, they talked about how miserable it must have been for Laura to spend her
very first day at a new school under such a weird black cloud. A few among the
people in this group had spoken to Laura, and they revealed details about her
that Sasha filed away in a separate document.

Laura Rivers was a former California girl whose parents had
just relocated to the East Coast for work. Most people thought she was naturally
pretty, a few were jealous of her blond curls, and more than one mentioned her
striking blue eyes. Laura smiled a lot, people reported, and she seemed really
eager to get to know everyone. People were impressed with her positive spirit,
especially considering the strange stares she was getting all day long. They
said the new girl seemed tough.

It was this latest mention of sympathy for the new girl that
made Sasha realize she hated Laura Rivers. She had no right to remind people of
Sarah. Why should this stranger be the reason they finally remembered the
tragedy after all this time? And yet, it was because of Laura that Sasha’s
investigation had taken its first step forward in almost two years. This was
the happening she’d hoped for every morning and every night. She should be
thanking her lucky stars for Laura Rivers.
Now is not the time to get
emotional
, Sasha reminded herself. She needed to stay focused.

Sasha decided that the incoming messages of this talkative,
empathetic set should be labeled yellow and considered a medium priority. She
didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in their comments, but at this point no
one could be considered completely innocent.

The next grouping Sasha uncovered was much more curious than
the previous two: there were a number of people who didn’t think Laura looked
that much like Sarah Castro-Tanner at all. Sasha tended to agree.

The very first thing she had done after learning the name
Laura Rivers was look her up online. Her profile page was filled with pictures
taken in the California sunshine, all of which were annoyingly perfect. There
were shots of Laura riding a bike along the pristine California boardwalk, a
few selfies taken in a brand new convertible—of
course
the L.A.
girl had a convertible—and a series from some bonfire party. These were
the images Sasha stared at for longer than she was willing to admit. She
couldn’t take her eyes off one picture in particular—an image of Laura
wrapped up in a fleece blanket beside the fire. The flames barely lit the right
side of her face, so Sasha could see most of her features. In Sasha’s opinion,
Laura looked like a distant cousin of Sarah’s, at best. Some features were
similar, but it wasn’t enough to fool Sasha—at least not from the angle of
the photo.

Sasha placed the messages from this group, which she called
“deniers,” into the orange category: high priority. In order to voice the
unpopular opinion that the new girl and the girl who’d committed suicide didn’t
look alike, these people must have known Sarah Castro-Tanner’s face pretty
well. These were people Sasha was interested in watching. They were either so
familiar with Sarah that they couldn’t see her face in Laura’s or, even more
telling, they were lying about the similarities that they saw.

Sasha thought back to an article about the psychology of
lying that she’d stumbled upon during one of her marathon sessions online.
The
best way to detach is often to deny, the article explained. That’s why she
considered this group so suspect.
If one of these students had
information about Sarah, they’d been keeping it a secret. They’d maintained a
lie of omission for all the past eighteen months, so they would be inclined to
bury the story again by disregarding Laura.

It wasn’t until Sasha discovered the fourth and final group
that she wondered if all her earlier theories were wrong.

That final group didn’t surface until Friday afternoon. Most
people used Sarah’s name at least a dozen times as they talked about Laura. It
was almost impossible to talk about one person in relation to another without
ever referencing the first person’s name, but two people among the hundreds
she’d
hacked did just that. They made an effort to
not
use the
words Sarah Castro-Tanner, dancing around her name like referencing it either
wasn’t allowed or wasn’t possible. The move struck Sasha as too curious to
ignore. She clicked through the individual lines of text to find the source of
this confusing feed.

Sasha read the exchange over and over until her eyes went
completely blurry. She knew that it was real, but it still seemed unbelievable.
One week ago the idea of knowing Sarah’s true story was a distant dream. Now
Sasha had uncovered two people who knew something about Sarah that they wanted
to forget, and it would only take her seconds to figure out their real names.