“Okay,” I say, filing that nugget of information away for future reference. If there’s one thing last year taught me, it’s to be wary of coincidences. “Well, here’s something that might interest you. Hang on a sec.” My laptop screen has gone dark, so I hit a key to bring the Reddit forum back. “I was Googling some stuff related to Simon and last year, and…” I refresh the page so it’ll display any newer posts, then trail off in confusion. The short thread I was just looking at has disappeared, and there’s nothing left on my screen except the forum heading. “Wait. What happened?”
“What?” Phoebe asks, moving her chair so she can peer at my laptop. “Vengeance Is Mine? Why does that sound familiar?”
“It’s the name of the revenge forum Simon Kelleher used to post on last year, except this one’s in a different location.” I frown, tapping a finger on my chin. “So weird. I was going to show you a thread that mentioned Simon, but it’s gone.”
“Did you try refreshing?” Phoebe leans across from me to hit the arrow button next to the search bar.
“Yeah, that’s what made it disappear in the first place. It was—”
“Is that it?” Phoebe interrupts when three new posts pop up.
“No,” I say, scanning the short lines. “Those are new.”
True, Jellyfish. He did get caught.
But his inspiration lives on in Bayview.
And he’d fucking love the game I’m playing right now.—Darkestmind.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Phoebe
Friday, February 28
I send the texts to Jules rapid fire on Friday afternoon, one after the other.
You’ve been busy huh?
Feel like doing something tonight?
I have to work but only till 8.
Want to meet me there?
Then I sit on the edge of my bed, gazing around the room I share with Emma. It’s smaller than the bedroom I had to myself in our old house, and crammed with twice as much stuff. Mom got a worker’s comp settlement from Dad’s company when he died, and while she never talked about how much it was, I thought it was enough. Enough that she wouldn’t have to go back to work unless she wanted to, and we could stay where we were.
Now Mom works at an office manager job she hates, and we live here. When we moved last summer, she told us that downsizing to an apartment was about convenience, not money. But nobody except Owen believed her.
I get up and wander to Emma’s side of the room, which is pristine compared to mine. Her bed is neatly made, every wrinkle smoothed away from the scalloped white coverlet. There’s nothing on her desk except the laptop we share, a coffee mug filled with colored pencils, and a notebook with a Monet print on the cover. I have a sudden urge to open the notebook and scrawl a message in the most apologetic color I can find. Pale pink, maybe. Emma, I miss you. I’ve been missing you for years. Just tell me how to make this up to you and I’ll do it.
Emma is at the library, and even though we’re barely speaking the emptiness of our room almost tempts me to knock on Owen’s door and offer to play Bounty Wars. I’m saved by the chime of my phone and glance down in surprise to a return text from Jules. She’s been cool toward me ever since the Derek reveal, and I wasn’t expecting a quick response.
Is that thing tonight? With Cooper Clay and everybody?
Yeah, around 6. It’ll be packed, though. You probably want to avoid that scene and just come at 8 when I get off.
The pre–Ashton’s bachelorette party get-together at Café Contigo started spiraling out of control once people heard Cooper might be there. Dozens of Bayview students who don’t even know him are saying they’re going now, and I’m not sure the Santoses are ready for that kind of crowd.
Will Nate be there?
I sigh as I text back, Probably. Guess I’ll be seeing her a lot earlier than eight o’clock.
My phone rings, startling me. Jules wants to FaceTime. I hit Accept and her face fills the screen, grinning expectantly. “Heyyy,” she says, sounding like her usual self. “Do you have time for a wardrobe consult?”
“Of course.”
“Which of these says, I’m way more fun than your ex and I live right here? This…” Jules holds up a plunging sequined tank top and waves it for a few seconds, then drops it and picks up a black ruffled halter. “Or this?”