up my esophagus. He worried about me? Sure, his concern was whether I was a sociopathic asshole, but nonetheless. He cares.
“That’s the problem,” I say. “I have no clue what half I don’t know. Rebecca was cryptic. Talk to Autumn, Jason Wang.”
“Well, hang on.” Ethan hops up, jogs over to the portable whiteboard we use for story assignments. He erases the fading detritus of the December issue. Across the top, he writes my four friends’ names: Avery, Sierra, Margot, Emma. I hesitate at Emma’s name. It seems wrong to investigate the misdeeds of the dead.
“Do you think something shady that Emma did got her killed?” I ask.
Ethan frowns. “I hope not. But we’re not very good journalists if we don’t ask the question. Did someone say something?”
“She may have been cheating on Tyler,” I concede. “And if Avery, Sierra, and Margot were doing heavy shit behind my back, Emma might have been as well. I’m not sure what to think anymore. Put cheating with a question mark under her name.”
Ethan does as I say, then starts to fill out a column of names on the left side of the board.
Rebecca Ito
Autumn Hollander
Jason Wang
Tyler St. Clair
Seth Feldstein
Seeing Seth’s name makes me break into a cold sweat. If Ethan finds out about the catfishing…
“Add Milo McNamara and Diana Klein, too,” I say to distract him. More names, more threads to follow that aren’t Seth. “We targeted them. And Kaila Montgomery.” I swallow heavy at that one. When Rebecca accused Avery of getting someone expelled, I knew exactly who she meant. Except Kaila got herself expelled, didn’t she?
Together, Ethan and I fill in the board with what nuggets Rebecca offered. Margot slept with Milo. Autumn thinks (thought?) I did something for my spot on varsity rowing. Avery got Kaila expelled.
I leave one thing off. The blackmail accusation. Ethan can never know.
“So we need to talk to all these people,” Ethan says, scanning the list before taking his seat. “I feel like the Ivies stuff is more your business, and I can handle the murder investigation.”
“Excuse me, we?” I chide. “When did this become a joint operation?” When did it become an operation at all?
Ethan grins. “I mean, I was already poking around. And if this is about the Ivies, things just got bigger. You want to get to the bottom of who your friends really are. I want the story. I need you, and you need me.”
I need you. I float on an upswell of giddiness. Then my ambition slams me right back down.
“I want to share a byline. This could get national pickup, far beyond the Ledger, and I could use that edge for college.”
Ethan tilts his head in confusion. “You already got into Harvard, though.”
We are right back to where we started.
“You’re right.” My voice goes quiet. “I got into Harvard. But that’s not the same as being able to afford Harvard. I’m applying to other schools regular decision. And if Avery really did kill Emma because she got in, then I could be next.”
Ethan’s expression finally turns to one of gentle chiding. “Olivia, you sound like a character in a bad slasher film. This isn’t some Ivy League–motivated serial killer. We won’t print it, and I’ll keep your secret, but not because I think Avery Montfort will murder you.”
“You don’t think she did it, then?”
“I’m not saying that.” Ethan jostles his leg. Thinking. “Obviously, someone on campus did it. And the security cameras thing? That’s a bombshell. Premeditated if they shorted the cameras ahead of time.” More leg jostling. Ethan bites his lower lip. “You’re right that it had to be someone Emma knew. The cheating angle is compelling. I’m sure the police are looking at Tyler. They always look at the boyfriend.”
“And me,” I remind him. “I was out of bed with no alibi.”
“I’m sure you weren’t the only one,” Ethan tries to reassure me. “Leave the party timeline and afterward to me. I know the guys who were there, and I’ll ask without making it seem weird.”
“She went off with Margot around eleven,” I remind him. “After that, Margot says she went to hook up, possibly not with Tyler. And it’s been bugging me that there was no after-party. There’s always an after-party.”
“We would know, since we’re never invited to them!” Ethan jokes. A frisson of anger stirs in my belly.
“My friends invite me when they can. But I have to go to bed early because of rowing.”
Ethan places a reassuring hand on my