Moment of Truth - Kasie West Page 0,11

with the pen. “What about his ethnicity? Was he white? Black? Latino?”

“He was wearing a rash guard. And the light from the pool makes everyone all glowy.”

She lowered her chin. “Seriously?”

“I was angry! And I was in my prerace zone! And . . . I don’t know. I think he was white?”

“You are no help whatsoever.” She picked up the notebook and ran her pen along the page, her lips moving silently as she did. “One hundred and seven people from our school follow him. If we weed out all the girls . . .” She counted again. “That’s seventy-two. He must be one of these seventy-two.”

I hugged one of her pillows to my chest. “You think the real person behind the mask follows his own fake profile?”

“Yes. I do. And do you know who is on this list of guys from our school who follow him?” She gave me a sympathetic look that I didn’t understand.

“I have no idea,” I said when I realized she was waiting for a response. “The fake Wolverine?”

“No. Robert.”

I held back a gasp and managed to keep my expression in check.

“Robert,” she said again as if I hadn’t heard her loud and clear the first time. “As in, your ex.”

“Yes. I got it,” I said before she could say his name for a third time. I didn’t want to think of my ex. I’d done a pretty good job of just that for the last several weeks. I didn’t want to think about his smile or the way he rambled when he was nervous and sang off key when he wanted to make me laugh. The way he’d dumped me out of the blue for a really stupid reason.

“If Robert is following him, maybe he knows something.” She waved her hand at my paper. “Did he comment on any of his posts?”

“No,” I said curtly.

“You have to talk to him.”

“What? No!” To be fair, Amelia wasn’t a bad friend for suggesting I talk to the guy who had ripped out my heart. I just hadn’t been completely honest with her about how “mutual” the breakup was. In reality, there was nothing mutual about it. Robert had broken up with me because he said I was too intense, too single-minded. So I took swimming seriously. It was my ticket to a good college. I had to.

“Come on. He’ll tell you. Just ask.”

I did not want to talk to Robert. I was over him . . . mostly. Talking to him would lead to a major relapse. I was sure of it. But maybe she was right. Maybe he really would know who this guy was. Why else would he follow a fake account? It didn’t seem like him at all. So he obviously had some sort of vested interest in what was happening. At the very least, he’d probably been to a few of the other disturbances caused by the guy. Maybe he’d seen something.

My eyes drifted to the wall above Amelia’s bed, where a painting of a distorted fish hung. I had always liked the painting: it reminded me of how it felt sometimes being under the water—a separate body experience. Amelia said her brother’s girlfriend, Abby, had painted it. Her brother was a few years older than her. Sometimes when I saw them together I tried to picture if my brother and I would’ve had a similar relationship—both loving and annoying at the same time. The way my parents described him, it seemed like we would’ve been close.

A knock sounded on the door, then Cooper poked his head in. “Amelia, Mom wants to know if you want lunch.” Cooper’s eyes lit up when he saw me. “Oh, hey, Hadley. I didn’t know you were here.”

“Yes, hi.” I blushed a little. Cooper was cute, and for some reason, I felt like the fact that I had just been thinking about him was written all over my face.

“Tell Mom we’ll be there in a minute,” Amelia said.

“Will do.” He shut the door.

Amelia’s attention was back on me. “So? What do you think?”

“I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

She furrowed her brow. “Gross, I don’t want to know. I was referring to Robert. Will you talk to him?”

“Oh. Yes. I will,” I said, glad for the chance to move past my embarrassing thought process.

“I’ll go with you,” she said, maybe realizing it would be hard for me.

“Okay.” I took the notebook from her and scanned the list. “Seventy-two,” I said. “We’ll talk to Robert first, but if he