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Two little freshman girls bolt out of the bathroom, smart enough already to spot an impending fight.
There are no cameras in here, and if I keep this relatively quiet, hopefully no admins will know I started shit on school grounds.
Savannah sneers at me and tries to step around me again, but I intercept her, shoving at her shoulders with both hands. She stumbles backward with a rough yelp.
“What the fuck?” I hiss. “This isn’t a damn joke, you bitch. You could get me kicked out of school! Why can’t you just leave me the hell alone?”
“Oh, like your mom left Iris alone?” Her blue-green eyes flash with malice, and she shoves me too.
My backpack falls to the floor with a thud, and I throw myself at her, grappling with her as she tries to push me off.
“My mom never did shit to her!”
We careen around the room in an undignified tangle of limbs and fists, and when we sl
am into the wall near the hand dryers, I manage to pin her against it with the weight of my body. She’s facing away from me, her backpack between us, but I press her head against the wall, breathing heavily as she struggles in my hold.
“My mom did not kill Iris. Fuck, maybe it was you and Trent. Maybe she was pregnant with his baby and you just couldn’t stand the thought of that. Couldn’t stand the thought of them having a kid together.”
Her struggles grow wilder, and we’re both gasping and panting. Her red hair tumbles loose down her back, and a large lock of it is stuck to her face, making her look even more crazy and disheveled.
“You’re fucking insane!” she shrieks. “Why would we—? It wasn’t even Trent’s baby!”
“Right. I’m sure that’s what he told you.”
The guys and I already pretty much ruled Trent out as the killer, but I’m so pissed right now, I don’t even care.
“No, you bitch! She told me. It was some older guy. She wouldn’t ever tell me his name.”
Older guy?
“Older? How much older? Like, out of high school?”
“What do you think?”
As she speaks the last word, she shoves herself away from the wall, fighting against my grip on her. I’m so distracted I release her entirely, stepping back before she can launch herself at me.
“Did she say anything else about him? What he looked like? Where they met?”
Her eyes narrow, and for a second, I think she might spit on me or come after my eyes with her fucking talons. But then she huffs a breath, pushing her hair back. “She hardly said anything. God! They met through someone else she knew. She never told me who that was either.”
An older man knocked her up.
She met him through someone else she knew.
“What else do you know about him?” I demand, and the intensity of my voice makes her blink.
Then she glares at me, her lips curling. “Why? You gonna try to steal him from her even after she’s dead? I don’t know anything, I told you. She never even said his name. Just called him her ‘gray fox’.”
The world seems to blur for a second before returning to focus even sharper than it was before.
Her gray fox?
Oh, fuck. That paternity test I found in Mr. Black’s drawer.
From the first moment I laid eyes on it, I automatically assumed it was to test Lincoln’s paternity, for Samuel to determine whether Linc was truly his son.
Given all the weird vibes in that house and the way he and Audrey act toward each other, it just made sense that he might be worried she’d slept around outside their marriage—particularly since he’d done the exact same thing himself.
