The letters are written in Colette’s loopy handwriting on a chalkboard that Divya is holding.
Colette finishes putting a little love heart above theJwhile Magda draws sparkles all around it in yellow chalk, the three of them making quite the spectacle in the dark, dusty hallway.
Magda pops her chewing gum as the three of them file in. “This is a home invasion,” I declare, watching Colette slip out of her fluffy boots and dive onto my bed.
“Would a home invader bring cookies?”
“Probably, if they were trying to convince me it wasn’t a home invasion.”
“It’s too snowy to do anything outside, rugby and hockey games are canceled, the roads are pretty much undrivable, the power is shaky, and we’re bored out of our minds.”
Colette hangs the board from a rusting nail between two crumbling stones. “Hence, Project Pheelz.”
Magda shudders, shuffling away from the thick cobwebs over the broken sconce on my wall. “Can’t we do this somewhere else? I fucking hate this place.”
I don’t blame her. The Nightshade mansion is terrifying, especially this time of year. The lights haven’t worked all day.
“Project Pheelz,” declares Divya, giving us a look like a teacher who has just caught two students talking. She whips a laser pointer out of her pocket. I stifle a laugh, but my heart is warm.
They love me.
“We have three main aims,” explains Colette, drawing heart-shaped bullet points as Magda throws a pillow at Divya for shining a laser in her eye. “Mini makeover in time for the Winter Ball.”
“I’m not going.”
“We’re all going. Wardrobe refresh—on a budget. Murder Cain Green.”
My laughter bubbles out of me as Magda draws a wiggly line and a sparkle beneath the final bullet point.
Magda snatches the pink chalk from Colette, messily scrawling a fourth sentence:Find a rebound.
“Absolutely not.” For a multitude of reasons: My heart hurts too much. No one would compare to Alex. I’ve sworn off men forever.
A nasty thought pops into my brain, unwelcome. Hashefound a rebound? The thought of Alex with someone the way he was with me … the whispered French, the eye contact, the swipe of his tongue along his lower lip, the way my name on his lips as he comes sounds like a desperate plea.
I feel nauseous.
The others must catch the shift in my expression, because Colette’s gentle hands push me down to a sitting position on my bed. “All right, let’s forget the rebound idea. You don’t have to do that one.”
“Okay,” I whisper, voice distant. I take a steady breath, thinking rationally. I know in my heart that Alex hasn’t found a rebound, that it’d be as abhorrent to him as it is to me.
“Let’s skip to step three. Let’s just skip straight to murder. Way more fun than makeovers, anyway.”
Colette sticks her bottom lip out. I think she’s been desperately waiting for me to ask her if I need a spring or autumn palette for months. But I need to master a routine of eating, showering, and brushing my teeth before figuring out if wearing yellow makes me look even more like a corpse than I already do.
“Okay,” I say, sounding more assertive than I really am. “I don’tthink we are the people to catch Cain Green. The FBI and the best private detectives are already on it.”
The three faces opposite me are wrought in disappointment. I see them lower their metaphorical pitchforks. Magda looks like I’ve canceled Christmas.
“We tried to change Divya’s tire last week and three of us were in tears by the end,” I argue. That gets me a few reluctant nods of agreement. “But wecanfigure out who leaked the article.”
“And figure out if it’s Cain texting you.”
Divya pulls out a fucking clipboard. Colette hands her a highlighter in every pastel shade you could imagine. My spirits lift.
“Okay, let’s start at the beginning again. Who would have a motive to hack your laptop and spread all that information?”
I trace my fingers over my chapped bottom lip. This is what I don’t understand. Cain, Shawn, Carmichael … they all had a reason to hate me, to want me to be unhappy, but they also had no reason to want the downfall of Green,especiallynot Cain. “I have no idea.”
