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Halloween falls on a Saturday, and even though I don’t feel like doing much of anything, I let Lauren and Andrea talk me into going to a costume party. Of course, as soon as they find out I’m going, Lincoln, Dax, Chase, and River all decide to go too. Despite their decision to let me in on their search for the masked man, and despite Lincoln’s strange visit to my room a few days ago, they obviously still have trust issues where I’m concerned.
It’s fucking frustrating. I don’t know what they expect me to do, or how to convince them I’m not going to do it.
One of the boxes my Mom swears she shouldn’t have packed contains several old costumes, so I steal one from that stash—a Cleopatra costume, complete with toga, wig, and headdress. It’s probably not as trendy or timely as most of the costumes girls will be wearing at the party, but it’s better than my alternate option, which is showing up in my street clothes and telling everyone I don’t give a shit.
Like I said. Not really feeling the holiday spirit.
The party is at a mansion on the west side of town, and Lincoln insists on driving me—surprise, surprise. I know people at school are starting to take notice of how often he and I show up to events together. There is the built-in explanation that I’m his maid and am living in his house, but that doesn’t explain why I’m seen so often with the other three guys too.
I half expect Savannah to take exception to me monopolizing the attention of four of the richest, hottest guys in school, but she hasn’t said anything… and as soon as we walk through the doors of the single-story, sprawling house, I realize why.
She and Trent stand near the wide doorway between the foyer and the living room, and he’s got her nearly bent in half backwards as he devours her mouth with a sloppy kiss.
I pull up suddenly, and Lincoln pauses behind me. When he sees what I’m gaping at, he snorts under his breath. “Oh, you didn’t know? That happened like a week ago.”
Ew. Ew because his tongue has to be somewhere past her esophagus by now, and also ew because I know he and Iris were some kind of something, even if no one at school really knew about it. Is this his way of processing his grief? He looked fucking wrecked that Monday after the news of her death broke.
I don’t know what exactly was going on between Iris and Trent, but from where I’m standing, it looks like he just moved from one cheerleader to another, never mind that one of them fucking died.
Savannah has continued to be over-the-top in her display of grief, using it as an excuse to do and say whatever she wants, to be an even bigger bitch to me than usual. She’s become so
theatrical about it that it’s honestly gotten a little hard to tell how much of it is real and how much is fake.
Lincoln grunts again, tugging me in the opposite direction toward the other wing of the house. We find Dax and Chase surrounded by several girls—they tend to flock around the twins whether the boys encourage them or not, which they’re definitely not doing right now—and then the four of us migrate over to the corner River is lounging in.
It occurs to me that this is really all I wanted, that this is what makes me feel safe. I might’ve come to this party because Lauren and Andrea invited me, but the only people I really feel like hanging out with here are the four boys I’m with.
Wow. There’s something I never thought I’d say.
Dax and Chase settle on either side of me on a wide, plush couch. The floor plan of this house is open, so even though we’re in a completely different room, I can still see Trent and Savannah. They’ve stopped making out like sloppy drunks, but she’s still clinging to him like a leech, leaning up to whisper in his ear.
“You don’t think it was Savannah, do you?” I mutter before I can stop myself.
My voice was low, but River, who’s sitting across from me, narrows his eyes at me in surprise and leans closer. “What are you talking about?”
I sigh, glancing around. This isn’t the place to have this kind of conversation. I’m not sure there’s any good place, but this definitely isn’t it. “Nothing. It’s probably stupid. I just know they hated each other at least as much as they liked each other. And they spent weeks fighting over Trent.”
Dax shakes his head. “She’s not smart enough. And the person in that car was a guy. For sure.”
“Yeah. You’re right.” I shake my head, making the hair of my blunt black wig shimmy, and the five of us settle back into the couch cushions.
The conversation turns to other topics, but I can’t quite let go of the thought I had earlier. Dax is right that the person in the car was large and masculine. It definitely wasn’t Savannah. But what if she got someone to do it for her? Murder is awful and extreme, but I know she was jealous of Iris and that the two of them fought over cheerleading positions all the time. And there’s something about extreme wealth, about never hearing the word “no”, that seems to divorce people from reality a little bit.
Maybe in some twisted, convoluted way, she convinced herself she had to get rid of Iris to have everything she wanted.
I let it drop though, because as much as I don’t like Savannah, it’s hard to picture her as a murderer—and I don’t really have any evidence to back that up, just half-formed suspicions. So I relax and drink with the guys for the rest of the night, trying to keep my gaze from wandering over to Savannah and Trent too often.
Sunday is the first day of November, and I don’t know what the weather is normally like in Connecticut, but it seems to switch overnight from chilly to cold, as if someone finally got the memo that winter is almost here.
I spend most of the day inside, cleaning and doing homework. When I walk in on my mom and Mr. Black having a friendly chat in his study, my hackles rise immediately. I need to tell her at least a watered down version of what Lincoln told me without making it obvious I blabbed.
But I wasn’t kidding. My mom is too sweet and trusting for her own good. Not that she’s the type who’d play mistress or break up a marriage, but I worry that she could get herself in trouble just by believing the best of people when it’s always better to expect the worst.
Samuel smiles charmingly at me when he notices me in the doorway, but I see his eyelids flicker at the expression on my face, and I wonder if he knows I’m aware of his little maid fetish.
I give him a tight-lipped smile and shoot a glance at Mom.
Lincoln Black may be gaining my trust, but I still don’t trust his dad any farther than I can throw him.
