at me! I know something you don’t!’” He’s using the same high-pitched, sing-song voice he used when he talked about the things Natalie brought him to the hospital, pouring on generous slatherings of ridicule and contempt. I want to hurl. I keep walking, staring straight ahead.
“Jesus, Anne, do you have any idea how it affects me to hear things like that about Cara?”
I stop and face him. “Enough, Blake. I’m onto your bag of tricks. I know it’s time to whip out the poor-pitiful-me card.”
His jaw drops. “Like I’m faking my feelings about Cara?”
I ponder the question, then say, “Maybe.”
I resume walking, and he trots after me, getting a little breathless. “Christ, Anne, talk about cruel! Why are you being so cold? Why won’t you answer my calls? Is this the price I pay for getting a little rattled the first time I go back to the scene of my girlfriend’s death?”
I keep walking. I’m so done.
“Anne!”
Still walking, still ignoring him.
“Don’t you get how much I love you?” he asks, his voice suddenly plaintive.
I roll my eyes and keep walking.
“You know what?” Blake says as I near my classroom, his stride still matching mine. “I thought I appreciated Cara, but I didn’t even come close to understanding what an amazing girl she was until I met you. I figured every girl was like her: sweet and caring and loyal. Now I know how hard it is to find someone like—”
I reach my classroom and face him one last time before walking inside. “See ya.”
It’s only as I’m halfway inside the door that I hear his parting shot:
“Bitch.”
I take a deep breath, then walk toward the cafeteria table.
I’ve been able to avoid discussions all morning, hiding my head in a book between classes to feign studying, but there’s no avoiding questions at a lunch table. I considered skipping lunch altogether, but I don’t want to fuel the flames by acting sketchy. Still, I don’t want to tell Melanie and Lauren about my conversation with Natalie. Yes, I guess both of them—especially Melanie—have as much of a right as I do to know who wrote the notes, and for all I know, Natalie’s already told them—but I don’t want to get drawn into more gossip. I don’t want to talk about Cara. I don’t want to talk about Blake. I don’t want more drama.
But I take one look at their faces when I reach the lunch table and realize that’s not in the cards. Their eyes are wide, their muscles tense.
“Jamie’s gone,” Melanie informs me gravely before I even sit down.
“What?”
“He’s gone! Remember when he went to the bathroom after Natalie told us about Cara’s body? He must have left the building from there. Nobody’s seen him since. He hasn’t been in any of his classes.”
“O-kay,” I say, settling into my seat and placing my tray on the table. “I guess he was sick. He sure looked sick.”
“He didn’t look sick,” Melanie says. “He looked terrified.” She bites a nail and continues. “I knew I should have gone to him when he ran to the bathroom. I knew Natalie’s message pushed him over the edge.”
“What are you saying?” I ask slowly.
“Nobody realizes how sensitive Jamie is,” Melanie says, pushing her fingers anxiously through her hair. “He’s just now started confiding in me, letting me know how much he cared about Cara and how devastated he was when she died.”
“Blake got all the attention, naturally,” Lauren says bitterly. “Blake always gets all the attention.”
“But the drowning really did a number on Jamie too,” Melanie continues. “He still hasn’t gotten over it. He can’t talk about it without crying. He’s like a baby in my arms every time I try to get him to open up.” Her trembling hand hovers over her mouth. “I knew I should have gone to him.”
“Call him,” Lauren says. “I’ll spot you so you won’t get caught on your cell phone.”
“I’ve tried,” Melanie says, now on the verge of tears. “My calls keep going straight to voicemail.”
Her eyes dart from Lauren’s face to mine, then back again.
“I’m going to his house,” she tells us firmly.
“Now?” Lauren asks, but Melanie has already jumped up from the table, leaving her tray behind, and bolted out the door.
“Call us?” Lauren shouts out to her weakly, but Melanie doesn’t respond.
She’s long gone.
“So, Natalie’s full of shit.”
I look at Lauren evenly.
“My brother-in-law works the cop beat for the Hollis Island Tribune,” she continues. “I texted him after Natalie’s bombshell, and he said there’s nothing