“Stop. We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.” Her voice is the firmest I’ve ever heard it. Just like Carter, Cinna is warmth and gentle observations, but right now she’s completely steel. “It makes too much sense. She practically told you it was someone you know. She’s been circling your life like she’s studying you. And there’s something I haven’t told you yet.”
I wait.
“At the Hargrove party last weekend, people were saying Vienna was there with Carter.” She pauses for emphasis. “Like, flirting with him. Like, they werereallytouchy. Someone said they left together.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“I was there but didn’t see it myself, but multiple people mentioned it to me later. Think about it. She’s getting close to Carter. Maybe he, I don’t know, did something to upset her after the party and she’s taking revenge.”
I hate to think the worst of Vienna, but what Cinna is saying makes sense. Part of me wants to believe it because believing would mean I have an answer finally. But…
“Why would she tell me to my face that it’s someone I know?” I ask. “If she’s doing it, why basically announce herself?”
“Mind games. She’s trying to make you think it can’t be her because she’s being so obvious about it. It’s reverse psychology. She’s smart enough to pull that off.”
I think about my general conversations with Vienna. The backhanded compliments. Those eyes that look like they’re calculating.
“We’re going to find her,” Cinna says. She grabs my arm and hurries us toward campus. “Come on. We’re going to confront the bitch because I’m fed up with this bullying.”
Her anger is so fierce that it pulls me forward and I don’t resist. The fury in my own body wants a destination, and Cinna is offering one, and right now that’s enough.
We cross through the main gates and onto the cobblestone paths. I know Vienna has a seminar in the Legacy Wing on Friday afternoons. It should be letting out in ten minutes. We walk fast, cutting through the courtyard where the fountain is running, past Whitmore Hall where Bean There’s warm light pours through the windows, and toward the east end of campus where the Legacy Wing sits with blank walls and multiple entrances.
We wait on the stone steps outside. Cinna paces while I lean against the wall, almost crushing my coffee with my fist. Students filter out of the building in pairs and small clusters, and each time the door opens I feel my pulse spike and then drop from false alarms.
Finally, Vienna walks out.
She’s talking to another girl, her phone in one hand and a leather portfolio under her arm, and she doesn’t see us until Cinna steps directly into her path.
“We need to talk,” Cinna says with her perfected hands on the hips bitch-I-mean-business pose.
Vienna stops. Her eyes dart from Cinna to me, and I’m sure her brain is already three moves ahead. “About what?” she says.
“About the texts.” I step forward. “About theanonymousaccount targeting people in the exhibition.”
Vienna’s eyebrows rise. The girl she was walking with takes a step back, sensing the temperature. Vienna waves her off with a flick of her fingers, then turns back to us. “You think I’m the one sending those messages?”
I get up in her face. “You told me it was someone I know. You told me the person holding the knife is standing close enough to get me. And now I’m getting texts about… personal stuff.Reallypersonal stuff that I told you about.” I’m not one for confrontation, so my knees start to shake. I swallow and keepgoing. “So yeah, Vienna. I think you have some explaining to do.”
For a long second, she doesn’t move. Her expression is frozen in neutrality. Then her chin lifts, and beneath the poise and the red lipstick, she looks wounded. Actually wounded.
“If I had a problem with you, you’d be the first to know. Because I’d say it to your face.” She leans in, our faces about six inches apart. There’s a tremor underneath her words that makes me feel like crying.Completely wounded.“I’m not a cyberbully, and I’m not someone who hides behind fake numbers and anonymous accounts. If I were ever a bully, I wouldn’t hide myself. That’s not how I operate and you know it.”
“Then explain what you said at the food trucks,” Cinna fires back. “Because it sounded like you were taunting her.”
Vienna’s eyes cut to Cinna and her expression hardens. “I was trying to help because I hear things and I pay attention. I told June to be careful because the vibe I’ve been getting from people in her circle felt off. That’s it.” She looks back at me. “But sure. Stand here and accuse me of terrorizing you. That’s a great use of everyone’s time.”
“You were at the Hargrove party with Carter,” I say.
Vienna steps away and looks like she’s done with this conversation, but that wounded look is still there. “I talked to Carter because he’s cute and because I was bored. That’s called socializing. You think I’d actually spend my weekend, what, digging for things to hurt you with? Please. Stop being so conceited. The world—myworld—doesn’t revolve around you.”
She turns and walks away, leaving me with the knife of her words sticking out of my heart.
Cinna starts to go after her, so I grab her sleeve.
“Don’t.”
