The Ivies - Alexa Donne Page 0,51

attend. Switch my status to deferred instead of rejected, basically.”

“Wow, that is cold.” And what would Katherine Montfort do if she knew about my admission status? God, what if she finds out from her contacts?

“She finds my backup schools unacceptable. My whole life, it’s been Harvard, and nothing but Harvard.” Avery bites her lip. “No matter what I do, she’ll be disappointed.”

My stomach churns with uncertainty. Avery is a teenage girl. My friend, really, for all her faults. I’m second-guessing my little murder investigation, no matter how attractive Avery’s motive seems. Though, does it hold water anymore if she’s recovered so smoothly from her Harvard rejection? Wouldn’t she be all for her mother’s petition if she killed our friend to pave her way back into Harvard’s good graces? I’m not sure anymore.

I’m drifting further and further away from my theory. I want to text Ethan, have him add it to our interview notes. I snort a laugh. Like we’re detectives.

“What’s so funny?” Avery raises a brow.

“Nothing,” I chirp, even though I know she’s not stupid and won’t be satisfied with my answer. I grasp for something to say, something that will appease her. “I was just thinking about something Ethan said.” My cheeks heat, the sliver of truth both an offering and too much to bear. “Don’t call him Canadian Ken,” I let out in a rush.

“That was Emma, not me.” Avery’s tone is clipped. Then she softens. “It’s obvious you really like him. I don’t care who you date.”

I snort into my wine.

“Hey, it’s true. As long as it’s not Tyler.”

I jostle her calves with mine. “Do you have, like, a thing for him?” I’ve always found her sensitivity about any of us dating Tyler odd. Like, Cruel Intentions odd. Once Emma started going out with him, Avery nudged at regular intervals about when it might end. You can’t take high school boyfriends to college, she’d say.

Now she recoils as if I’ve slapped her. “Oh my god, Olivia, that is gross. No. Tyler is…ew, no.”

“Okay, okay.” I throw up my hands in surrender.

“Seriously, though, Liv, if Tyler starts flirting with you, ignore him. Go for Ethan. You two are perfect.”

I know Avery claims she’s fine with my crush, that “Canadian Ken” was Emma’s thing, but I don’t trust her. A week ago I would have been the subject of ridicule for liking someone so boring. Now Avery is practically playing matchmaker. And then there’s the Tyler thing.

I decide to try something. A police tactic.

“Do you think he could have done it?” I ask.

“Who, Tyler?” Avery’s mouth goes tight.

“They always suspect the boyfriend. They have to be looking at him.”

It’s a risk, showing my hand, letting Avery know how curious I am about Emma’s murder. I want to see how she responds. If there’s even a chance that she’s guilty. Or if she knew about Emma’s cheating. I’m fishing.

“They’re looking at all of us,” Avery says. “My mother warned me about that on day one. That we’d all be suspects.” Her eyes go flinty as she levels her gaze on me. “But Tyler’s been cleared. Mom gave me the happy news this afternoon.”

“Oh, wow, that’s great news.” I sound droll, but I mean it. If the police have ruled Tyler out as a suspect, that’s huge. They must have an alibi for him.

Avery hums underneath her breath. She takes a long swig of wine, then changes the subject. “Hey, can I run my Harvard essay by you? My mom said I should write a new one. Something reflective, for the appeal.”

She says it so casually, I have to take a moment to orient myself. Ensure I’ve not traveled back in time two months to when we were working on ED apps. Avery’s mom has been able to jump right into action, trying to get the Harvard admissions board to reverse its decision. How terribly convenient, with Emma’s dying and all.

I think about Katherine Montfort’s demanding to speak to the headmistress, railing against an unfair system. The picture from Seth’s Stories, Avery on the phone at the party. Who would she have been talking to? All her friends were there except for me, and we didn’t talk that night.

Is it completely outside the realm of possibility that Avery killed Emma at her mom’s instruction?

“Hey, Liv, hello?” Avery snaps her fingers in my face. I’m forced to play ditzy, put on a smile.

“Sorry. Yeah, send it to me. Your essay. And can you read my Northwestern supplement?”

We exchange Google