“We need to get on the list,” I say plainly. “But for something unforgivable, something that would make them want to expose us, like Evans.”
“I’m already on the list because I keep getting the stupid letters,” she mutters. “This is stupid.”
“No, we need to get caught red-handed so we can see who does the catching, don’t you get it? Who makes sure all the scandals are real? Someone is behind it, and I’m beginning to think it’s not your dad, but someone close to us, someone that knows something. Why else would they bring me here? It’s all connected, my mom’s death, the cover up, you.”
“And what’s the point of the list, anyways? Protecting money? Reputations? Power?” she presses.
I cross my arms. “I lied.”
“What?”
“I was sent a letter a few weeks back. The truth? I was keeping an eye on you for a reason, to hold it over your head later. You asked why I came back now? Why wait? It’s because I got a letter that I should take this job, that I’d find answers about my mom. So, I came here. I came to haunt you and resurrect her memory.”
Lilah curses. “I can’t help you with your mom.”
“But the person behind the Dean’s List can,” I say softly. “So, we need a scandal. No more being careful. No sneaking around. We need to be loud and finish this once and for 'all.”
“And if it’s your dad? Mine?”
“They seem too scared.” I jerk my head in her dad’s direction. “He’s been pale as a ghost all night, what’s to say he hasn’t been getting similar letters? It’s not just about us. This isn’t something we have to solve on our own. We find out who’s behind it, we find out who killed my mom and in the end, we expose everyone else on the damn thing.”
“Everyone?”
“Every last one.”
“That’s bold.” She looks down at her feet. “Alright, so what’s your genius plan?”
“To bite of course.” I wink. “Just pretend to like it.”
“I don’t have to pretend,” she whispers.
“Lie?”
“Truth.”
For a second I forget how to breathe. The noise from the party fades into nothing.
No music. No laughter. No donors. No fathers with diabolical plans or manipulative words. Just her. Just me and her. She swallows hard. “Say something.”
“What a dangerous request,” I rasp. “When there are millions of things left unsaid between us. You sure you want to open Pandora’s box in front of the room?”
“Well, you did say we needed a scandal,” she admits, eyes darting around us. “Though I think you had something more in mind.”
“I wasn’t going to usewordsto shock people,” I admit.
Her mouth twitches. “Oh.” She side-eyes me. “You used to only have terrible ideas. I think I like this one, though.”
“Right? Especially coming from a guy whose solution to everything is emotional arson.”
“Valid.” She squeezes my hand.
And I swear things just click into place.
The girl I spent years hating.
The life that was stolen from me.
My mom.
