On Tuesday I’m having lunch on campus when someone calls my name. I turn and see it’s Gracie and Aster, who wave me over to join them.
After I sit, Aster immediately grins. “Bailey finally resurfaced,” she says. “I was just telling Gracie about it.”
I stir my chickpea and feta bowl. “Did you ask her if she’ll talk to us about Jay?”
“I did,” Aster says. “And not surprisingly, she said no. She practically snarled. I’m not Bailey’s favorite person. But during a break in our psych lecture, I asked her if she knows who the Birdwatcher is. She turned the most interesting shade of white. Could have been the whitest person at her country club with that face.”
“We think Bailey Cressman is the Birdwatcher,” Gracie says, grinning. They are clearly excited about this deduction.
I’m not so sure, though. Jay told me he didn’t hook up with Bailey. Why would she care? “Really? Just because she turned white after you asked her about it?”
“Body language iseverything,” Aster says. “She clearly doesn’t think highly of Jay. She probably hooked up with him.”
“Did you ask her if she did?”
“No, but it makes sense. She hooked up with him and discovered he was a fuckboy. And she was so pissed that she created this whole Instagram account to re-spew all the crap that the Tumblr said last year. Plus posting about him being a player.” Aster grins.
It’s actually kind of adorable how invested they are about this investigation.
“I agree. This is textbook mean-girl revenge,” Gracie says. “People like Bailey are used to getting what they want.”
Aster nods. “When I asked her, she said, ‘Why would I care about someone who grew up in a townhouse in Scarborough with, like, three families?’”
“Jay told her that?” I ask.
Jay has been a bit secretive about his family life with me. I had no idea he and his mom lived with other families. Why would he have confided in Bailey Cressman? Maybe he sees me only as the person who can save him, not his friend. I mean, we haven’t known each other long. Only a week. I exhale. My life has changed so much since then.
“So what do we do now?” I ask, mostly because I don’t want to linger on questions about Jay that I don’t want to think about.
“I say we look into Bailey more. What’s her Instagram?” Gracie pulls out her phone.
After a few minutes of looking at her grid, we find nothing of use. Her pics are heavily curated, and most are just of her. Selfies. Bailey at the beach. Bailey shopping in Yorkville. Bailey posing with ...
“Is that Justin Bieber?” I ask.
Aster snorts. “Looks like it.”
“There are no pictures of friends here. Just random celebs.”
I notice the red circle around her picture, which means she has an Instagram story. I open it.
It’s a shot of Bailey in a store fitting room, wearing a tight, low-neckline, pale-pink dress. Her curling-iron waves reach down her back, and one hand rests on her hip. She’s posted a poll for her followers.This dress for Jack’s party on Saturday? Yes/No.
Her next story is also about Jack’s party.Y’all, no! I can’t get anyone an invite to the party! Ask him yourself!
An idea comes to me. “Hey, didn’t Emma say that Bailey is loose-lipped when she’s drunk?”
Gracie nods. “Yep.”
“I’ve seen her drunk,” Aster adds. “Bailey Cressman would be what one would call a messy drunk.” She laughs to herself at the thought.
“Can we get an invitation to this Jack guy’s party?” I ask.
Aster raises a brow. “Are you out of your mind? You seriously want to go toJack Gormley’sparty?”
I frown. Should I know who he is? Is this the same Jack who Jay is still friends with?
Gracie shakes her head. “Jack’s parties arelegendary. They’re like ... rich-people debauchery.”
