The Ivies - Alexa Donne Page 0,40

Margot pointedly takes a swig of coffee. I remind myself who I’m talking to. Margot is a bear trap—she lures you in and then snaps at the perfect moment. I came here to get information.

“It’s not weird. I want to know what happened after I left. I feel guilty. The last time I saw her, she was digging her nails into my arm after I’d pulled her off Avery. I should have checked to see if she was okay. Did none of you talk to her after the fight?” A leading question I know the answer to.

“Emma was fine.” Margot snorts. “Last I saw her at the party, she was heading off for a hookup. A good lay to cure all ills. Think about it, Liv. Emma had everything she wanted, just the way she planned. I’m sure she died happy.”

Holy shit.

“What about you?” I hit back. Kid gloves off now. “Did you get lucky with Milo? I saw the pictures, and you two looked comfy.”

Margot tilts her head, assessing me. “Why would you ask that? Are you into him or something? Sorry, but you’re not his type.”

“What’s his type?”

She offers me a look that simply says not you. Rebecca was right. Time to wrap this up.

“So, you’re saying Emma left the party with Tyler? What time was that? You told the detective?”

An exasperated look passes over Margot’s pristine features. Still, she indulges me after a long drag of her sugary drink. She finishes with a wet smack, already standing to leave. “I never said it was Tyler.” She throws her bag over her shoulder. “And yes, I told the police. You should leave the detective work to them and stop snooping, Liv. Interrogating your friends is a bad look.” With that, she makes for the exit.

Friends. What a rich word. I’m not sure I have any friends at all anymore.

* * *

—

I arrive at the journalism lab ten minutes late. We’re on an exam day schedule, so newspaper is before lunch. Or so I thought. The classroom is empty. I stand in the doorway, blink heavily, in case this is one of those dreams where you show up for an exam to find an empty classroom and then, whoops, you’re also naked. But I’m fully clothed, and I didn’t fall asleep.

“Olivia, hey.”

My gaze snaps to the back of the classroom, where Ethan is half-hidden behind his computer screen.

“Where is everyone?” I unzip my coat and start to unravel my scarf, and as I draw nearer to him, I try to slow my ragged breaths.

“Everyone turned in their stuff, and all that’s left is layout, so Vasquez let them go.”

“Where is Vasquez?”

“Early lunch.”

I slide into my chair and turn on my monitor.

“Listen, I did some work on it yesterday,” Ethan says. “It’s almost done, so we’ll definitely be able to traffic it tomorrow.”

I bristle. “Ethan, you know that the print layout is my job.”

He ducks his head, plays with the dark curls at the nape of his neck. “I know, but with everything that happened, I didn’t want you to worry about making a stupid deadline.”

Shit, he’s really thoughtful. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m just a bit sensitive with the division of roles. They won’t need me if you can do my job.” I’m only half joking.

“Hey, you could do my job with your eyes closed, so the feeling is mutual.”

Then Ethan sighs deeply and leans across me. My breath catches as his arm grazes mine, and warmth spreads through me. Ethan grabs ahold of my computer mouse and focuses intently on the monitor, so he doesn’t catch the flush that has surely deepened in my cheeks.

Ethan clicks open InDesign. “I also didn’t want you to see this, or at least have to deal with it for too long.” He clicks over to a new inside spread. On the left is a giant image of Emma with her full name, her birthday, and Wednesday’s date.

Always in our hearts is written in a saccharine cursive font. To the right of it is an obituary.

“It was Tyler’s idea, and Ms. Vasquez ran with it,” Ethan explains. “He sent it to me yesterday. She’s already approved the layout, so you don’t have to bother with it.” Now Ethan is the one with spots of color on his cheeks.

“Thanks, Ethan. It looks great.” The compliment is genuine, though it comes out hollow. For a minute I get lost between Emma’s dimpled smile and Tyler’s byline. I skim the first paragraph. It strikes