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“Who are you to judge anyone’s character?” she scoffs.
Normally, I’d argue, but at this point, I’m not sure I can.
I manage to stay in the classroom for maybe about two more minutes until, once again, I can’t resist the urge to go and find her.
It isn’t hard. I duck into the tiny bathroom across from the gym—the one that’s almost always empty because there aren’t any lockers in this hall—and see someone crumpled on the floor of the furthest stall. I push the door open and find her slumped against the bathroom wall with her eyes closed. I shake my head and sigh.
“What do you want?” she asks. “Do you believe me now? That there’s nothing you can do to me?”
She gestures at the scene she’s set.
I lower myself onto the floor next to her and run a finger over her bruised cheek. “What happened to your pretty face, Ally?”
“Part of my birthday beating.”
“Hold out your hand,” I tell her, opening my bag.
She does what I ask, and I place two small brown pills in her palm.
“Take these,” I tell her, then hand her a Powerade and a chicken salad sandwich from the lunch room. “With these.”
She pops the pills in her mouth, then washes them down with the Powerade.
“You’re not even going to ask if those were poisoned?”
“I told you,” she says. “I don’t care.”
“I don’t either, so don’t read this wrong. I’m not doing this because I care about you; I’m doing it because no one else does.”
“Devon, please, can I have my money back?”
“No,” I tell her. “Just…eat. And get off the damn floor. At leastpretendlike you’re better than this.”
I leave the bathroom, then go to her locker, put in the combination, and take the whiskey bottle from her bag. I’ve never heard of the brand, but it looks expensive, and there’s still a decent amount left.
I do myself a favor and toss it into my bag before returning to class.
When I get home that night, I finish the bottle’s contents and go for my daily dose of doomscrolling, but I can’t stop thinking about what happened to Ally and what might be happening to her now. I take the pictures out of the envelope under my bed—the ones of baby Ally and the teenage Ally who doesn’t have any scars—and I can’t stop staring at them. I can’t stop looking at the one of her smiling on the beach in a bathing suit.
I bet that version of Ally would have done better.
That’s why I end up looking up Adam Hargrove instead. He’s made himself a little harder to find since Reddit found him. Still, it isn’t that difficult—not for someone who’s determined.
I’m drunk enough that I have to close one eye to do it, but I manage to send that massive piece of garbage a scathing email letting him know exactly what the fuck I think about him before I go to bed.
And resign to take out some more trash in the morning.
There are police cars in the parking lot when I get off the bus.
The flashing red and blue lights set something off inside me—at a cellular level. I feel it rolling through me, and suddenly, in my head, I’m on my knees on the cold concrete near the deep end of the pool, watching Devon’s dad pull Darci’s body from the water.
I barely make it through the parking lot, moving like cinder blocks are attached to my legs. Once I reach the sidewalk, I stop moving forward and stay there frozen, just trying to keep myself from dropping to the ground.
What if they’re here about Darci? Maybe they found out who killed her, and it’s another student. Or maybe they didn’t, and they’re here to arrest Devon again.
“Ally?” a voice next to me calls. “Ally, let’s go.”
A hand closes around my arm, and I react, shoving the person off me and screaming.
