Deadly Little Sins (18 page)

It’s not just the truth about that night—but also the truth about Dr. Muller and Ms. C and the text messages. Brent won’t let me do this alone. And not because he feels guilty he didn’t believe me about his dad and his coach last year—it’s who Brent is.

He said he’d always choose me if I gave him the choice. But I won’t give him the choice if it means putting him in danger again.

“You are so, so, wrong,” I tell him.

He doesn’t follow me as I walk away.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FIVE

Someone shouts my name as I’m storming out of the dining hall. But it’s not Brent—it’s a girl’s voice.

I turn around. Farrah jogs to catch up with me. Her crutches are gone.

“Hi,” she says breathlessly. “I’m sorry it took forever, but I did it.”

“Did what?” I blink away the tightness behind my eyes. The last thing I need is a freshman to catch me crying.

Farrah’s deep brown eyes seem to twinkle. “You know. The thing you wanted.”

The security feed. She cracked it.

A mix of adrenaline and unease floods through me. I never should have let Farrah hack the system in the first place. Dan was different; breaching Wheatley’s network security settings was his specialty long before I arrived here. Farrah is a freshman, with everything to lose.

But I need to see the man’s face. I have to figure out who he is, and if he’s the same person who sent me the threatening messages.

“I have it on my computer,” Farrah says. “Are you free now?”

“Yeah. Sure.” I follow her across the quad, sneaking a glance at my phone. No texts.

The inside of the freshman dorm building is nearly identical to Amherst—except for the high-pitched laughing and shrieking of fourteen-year-olds and prominently displayed NO BOYS sign at the front desk. Farrah signs me in and we take the elevator up to the fourth floor.

“Are you okay?” she asks. “You’re all red.”

“I’m fine.” It comes out snippier than I intended. It’s not Farrah’s fault she called me in the middle of my meltdown. “Thanks for this. You’re amazing.”

Farrah beams and lets me into her room. Right away, I pinpoint her side: a neatly made bed with a pink polka-dot comforter that her mother probably picked out. The roommate is a slob; Farrah has to kick aside blazers and dirty towels to make a path to her desk.

Farrah plops down in her chair and goes straight to a website called Secure Alert. I look over her shoulder as she enters information into a page entitled “Remote Log In.”

“Wait.” I put a hand on her shoulder. “Can this be traced back to you? I
really
don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry, I made sure that there’s no master log of who signs in. No one will even know we were on.”

I relax a bit as the screen loads, revealing the view from four campus security cameras. One is outside Amherst—I spot Remy talking to Kelsey by the bench outside the building. They’re whispering. My stomach is sick thinking of what Remy could be telling Kelsey.

“Okay,” Farrah says. “How far back am I going?”

I gnaw the inside of my cheek. “Monday night. Around one thirty. Outside the admin building.”

Farrah clicks on Playback Mode and drags the cursor positioned over the video feed time line. She isolates the screen to one camera, giving us a full view of the administration building.

“Night vision isn’t very good,” she says. “What are you looking for?”

I fast-forward the video fifteen minutes. That’s about how long I was in the building before my “friend” joined me.

At 1:49, he shows up. He taps a card to sensor outside the front entrance.

“Can you freeze this frame?” I ask. Farrah hits a pause button.

I peer at the man’s face. It’s not the clearest picture, but I can tell I’ve definitely never seen him before. He has a heavy brown beard and hair combed over to the side. He’s wearing a tweed jacket and a huge Rolex that’s probably worth a year’s tuition at Wheatley. The man leaves in a huff at 1:53. He wasn’t even in there five minutes.

He’s on the phone.

“Is there audio on this thing?”

Farrah raises the volume, but the camera is too far away to catch what the man is saying. He doesn’t look happy. Within seconds, he’s gone.

“Who is that man?” Farrah asks. Her voice isn’t accusatory or worried. She’s curious. That’s worse.

“I don’t know.” I stand up. “Hey, do you think you could keep this between us?”

Farrah nods.

“Thanks. You rock.”

Remy is in the room when I get back.

“Remy.”

“Yeah?” She doesn’t turn around. My jaw sets.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what? The Alexis thing, or something else I don’t know about?”

I feel myself deflating. She must take my silence as an admission of guilt. Remy finally turns around.

“I already had a best friend who used me and lied to me,” she says. “I don’t need another one.”

Before I can respond, she grabs her towel and leaves. I bite my fist and scream. Then I do what I should have done yesterday: I send Alexis a text message.

I can’t screw with Caroline anymore. You’re on your own.

I stick my phone in my desk drawer as I sit down to start my history paper, even though I know I’ll be glancing at it every thirty seconds.

I have my introductory paragraph written by the time my phone finally buzzes.

From: Alexis

I found out something huge about Natalie. Can’t say over the phone. Front steps of Haverford Day in Brookline, tomorrow at four. Don’t tell anyone you’re coming.

Alexis could be bluffing. She could be trying to draw me out in order to confront me face-to-face and try to manipulate me into changing my mind about helping her.

Or she’s telling the truth, and she really does know something—something so big she has to tell me in person. Something she found out from snooping through Caroline’s phone.

I can’t focus in any of my morning classes. Remy would never forgive me if she knew I was going to meet Alexis. But from the looks she throws my way during lunch, it doesn’t look like she’s going to forgive me anyway.

Remy is the slow freeze type when she’s angry. In front of everyone, she’ll act like nothing is wrong. You’d have to be paying attention to even know she’s pissed—the subtle way she sits in between Kelsey and April instead of next to me. The way she’ll pull out her phone and become immersed in something on the screen when I’m talking.

The way she catches my eye and I mouth
I’m sorry
, only for her to look away.

“Where is everyone?” Kelsey asks Cole once he sits down with his tray. He’s got his usual fare: a hamburger, fries, a salad with only lettuce and dressing. And that’s just the first course.

Cole shrugs. “Murali’s in Campbell’s office, going over his Brown essay,” he says.

“I saw Brent talking to Kaylee on the way in,” Phil says, squirting ketchup over his fries.

“Who’s Kaylee?” The words spill out of my mouth before I realize how pathetic I sound. Cole avoids my eyes.

“Hot junior,” Phil says. April jabs him in the ribs; Phil looks up at me, as if he didn’t even realize I was here. He probably didn’t. Probably smoked a bowl before lunch.

I do a quick scan of the dining hall and spot Brent at a table by the salad bar. He’s leaning in, laughing at something a cute brunette is saying. She has dark eyebrows and pin-straight hair that falls past her shoulders. My stomach feels like it’s trying to swallow itself.

Everyone is watching me. I set my fork down. “Can we skip the awkwardness and eat our damn lunch? I’m fine.”

“He’s trying to make you jealous,” Kelsey says under her breath. “What a jackass.”

Cole clears his throat. “He’s not a jackass. He told me she was cute, like, over a year ago.”

My gaze meets Remy’s, and the guilty look on her face says she knew about Kaylee, too. She picks up her spoon and swirls her lentil soup so she doesn’t have to look at me anymore.

I mumble an excuse about forgetting dressing for my salad and push my chair away from the table. I can’t be pissed at Cole for being honest.

I remember Brent’s face after I told him I had feelings for Anthony, and I start to think that this whole honesty thing is simply a scam.

I’m dreading my last class—history—because Brent and I sit next to each other. He doesn’t say anything before Kazmarkis starts the lesson, but I catch him eyeing me as I check my phone to see if Alexis has texted me again.

So does Kazmarkis. She barks at me to put my phone away, and that’s that.

Brent hangs back to walk with me when class is over, even though I purposely take my sweet-ass time packing up, hoping he’ll leave.

“How’d you do on the quiz?” He leans against the table, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt. The first step in his end-of-classes ritual. Next is ditching the tie when we’re out of Kazmarkis’s sight.

“Eighty-five,” I say. “Totally blew the extended response on federalism.”

Brent nods, twice. Two slow bobs. “You seem weird.”

“If you mean it was weird for me seeing you flirt with another girl when you told me you wanted to get back together a few nights ago, then yeah. I feel weird.”

Brent is quiet as he trails behind me out of the room. “What do you want me to say? Anne, I told you how I feel.”

I spin to face him when we reach the elevator. “You told me how you feel about Anthony and me. Which is that you can’t get past it.”

“I could. I mean, I
would
, if I really believed that you wanted me to.” His voice is barely above a whisper, even though we’re the only ones outside the elevator.

“I don’t know what I want.” It’s a lie. Really, I can’t have what I want, which is to have it both ways. To have Brent back, but to keep hiding what I’m up to.

I can’t do that again. It already blew up in my face once.

“We were just talking,” Brent says. It kills me he won’t say her name, almost as if it confirms my suspicions. “I wasn’t trying to make you jealous or anything.”

I’m silent as I punch the down button, sick of waiting for the elevator.

“
Anne.
Give me a little more credit than that.”

The elevator dings. I do give him enough credit to believe this isn’t a ploy to make me jealous—and that’s exactly what sucks.

Somewhere in between my conversation with Brent and realizing I don’t want to go back to my room, I decide to head into the city and meet Alexis.

Haverford Day reminds me of St. Bernadette’s, my old school. It’s a series of brownstones tucked into the city street, red banners marking which buildings belong to the school. I shield my eyes from the afternoon glare, surveying the street. A bunch of girls in royal blue blazers and wool skirts filter out of a building across from me. They congregate on a set of sprawling concrete steps.

Alexis isn’t among them. I check my phone, worrying I may have missed her. I texted her on the way here, letting her know I was on my way.

She responded.
On your way where??

My breath catches in my throat.
Get out of here. Now.
I turn to head back in the direction of the T stop.

And I’m face-to-face with Caroline Cormier-Frey.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SIX

I am so freaking stupid it makes me sick. Caroline smiles at me as if she knows what I’m thinking, and she agrees.

“I’m glad you made it,” she says.

I drop my gaze to my phone.

“Don’t even think about tipping her off,” Caroline says. “If you do, this is going to be so much harder than it needs to be.”

I don’t want to know what
this
is. “You texted me from her phone?”

Caroline peers at me with those unblinking eyes. “I forgot how dumb high schoolers are. Lesson one: If you’re going to screw with someone, don’t leave your phone out where the person you’re screwing with can see your messages.”

I cringe. “What do you want?”

Caroline finally blinks. “You’re afraid of me. What kind of lies did
she
plant in your head?”

“Do you mean Alexis, or Natalie?”

“I haven’t. Seen. Natalie Barnes.
In twelve years
,” Caroline snaps. A woman stopping to let her dog pee on the curb eyeballs us. Caroline lowers her voice. “Yet you and my cousin seem to think I’m involved in some sort of Natalie conspiracy. Why?”

I return Caroline’s stare. “You attacked Natalie.
Why?
”

“Get this through your pretty little head,” Caroline seethes. “I never
touched
Natalie.”

“What about your friend? On the bike?”

Caroline’s upper lip curls. “That was a
joke.
And the car was halfway down the street. Annabeth’s mother made a huge deal out of it. I should have known Alexis would bring that up.” Caroline takes a step toward me. “I don’t know who screwed up Natalie’s face, but it wasn’t me.”

“Then why did she say it was you?”

“Because she hated me, and she obviously didn’t want whoever
did
hit her to get in trouble.”

“Spencer?” I ask.

Caroline reddens at the mention of Spencer’s name. “Didn’t I just say I don’t know? But yes, Spencer would be my first guess.”

I tilt my head, holding her gaze so she knows I don’t believe her. She reddens another shade. “And if it wasn’t Spencer, it was her creep brother.”

“Luke?”

“How should I remember his name?” Caroline scowls. “All I know is that Natalie told me she went to boarding school to get away from him.”

The blood rushes to my head. That is
not
what Luke Barnes said when I asked about his sister. Caroline isn’t the only one who played me.

“How was he a creep?” I ask.

“I don’t waste my brain space on my high school roommate’s problems.” Caroline sniffs. “But I do remember she said he threatened this guy Natalie was dating in middle school. In a jealous, overprotective way.”