Truly Devious (Truly Devious #1) - Maureen Johnson Page 0,65

video. And though Hayes was doing a good enough job, and no matter how well the makeup was applied, he was still a seventeen-year-old guy playing a man in his late forties. This was Stevie’s thing, and something about the whole filming process felt sideways and wrong in a way she could not quite place.

By six, Maris said they’d probably gotten what they needed and Dash called a dinner break.

“We’ll eat and then we’ll come back and clean up,” he said.

“Tonight?” Nate replied. “Can’t we do it tomorrow?”

Maris was helping Hayes wipe his face with a makeup remover cloth. When they were done, the group made their way out of the garden and to the dining hall. Stevie heard Nate’s stomach grumbling out loud.

As they reached the green, Hayes took a step back.

“You guys go ahead,” he said. “There’s something I forgot.”

“I’ll come,” Maris said.

“No, it’s cool,” he said, walking backward. “Go ahead and save me a place.”

Stevie and Nate didn’t have to be told twice.

It was strangely disconcerting to sit with a different group for dinner. Stevie worked her way through a plate of fried chicken and corn, watching across the room as some of her housemates reconfigured into groups. There was Janelle, taking a seat with some people from Vi’s building. Ellie sat with people Stevie had barely seen before. David never showed up at all. Nor did Hayes.

“I wonder what’s taking him so long?” Maris said, fidgeting in her seat. “He’s not answering his texts.”

“He’s probably on the phone,” Dash said, quickly eating some mashed potatoes.

Maris sat on her hands and glanced around the room, her gaze landing on Gretchen as she entered the dining hall. She ran her tongue over her teeth.

“I should go check,” she said.

“Maris, he’s coming,” Dash said. “He’s just doing something.”

“We should go back and move the ramp anyway.”

“Oh my God,” Dash said. “Fine. Just let me finish eating for a second?”

Gretchen turned ever so casually toward them, her gaze passing like a cloud overhead.

What had she and Hayes been talking about earlier? What did Hayes owe Gretchen? And did being associated with Hayes cause this kind of turmoil? Maris was nervous, all of them were working on something that really benefited Hayes, Gretchen was literally seeking some kind of retribution.

How did some people lead these kinds of lives?

Dinner was finished quickly, much to Nate’s chagrin, and the four of them—Maris, Dash, Stevie, and Nate—made their way back to the sunken garden.

It was now just coming on nightfall, the sky turning an electric blue with the trees standing out in stark relief. As they walked, Stevie heard someone approaching briskly, then turned to see Germaine Batt next to her.

“Where are you guys going?” she asked.

“To the sunken garden,” Nate said. “To move a ramp. Or something. I don’t know. I thought I just had to write.”

“Can I come?”

“You want to move a ramp?” Stevie said.

“It’s everyone’s dream,” Nate said, tugging his backpack higher on his shoulders. “Come to Ellingham Academy, move a ramp out of a hole in the dark.”

“I just want to see what you’re doing,” Germaine said.

“More Hayes news?” Stevie said.

“I got fifty thousand views on that last one.”

“That would be good on a tombstone,” Stevie said. “I got fifty thousand views on that last one.”

“Say what you want,” Germaine said, a frosty edge in her voice. “I honestly don’t care.”

When people say they honestly don’t care, they care. Germaine hadn’t done anything to Stevie. There was no reason to be spiky with her. Sure, it was a little unsavory what she was doing, but it didn’t seem to be hurting Hayes any. If anything, he literally had a new girlfriend running after him right now, in front of them, in the gathering dark.

“Sorry,” Stevie said. “Just kidding.”

“It’s fine,” Germaine replied crisply. It did not seem fine.

The last lightning bugs of the season were dancing over the lawn as they entered through the gate. The hole in the ground looked a bit more ominous in the dark, and the dirty glass of the observatory caught the rising moon. There were piles of poles, and folded tarps, and the ramp.

“Hayes?” Maris called.

No reply. An unseen bird rustled in the treetops overhead.

“Where is he?” Maris said.

“Who knows?” Dash said. “He’s probably on the phone somewhere and left us with this to clean up. Come on.”

“He’s got to be here somewhere,” Maris said. “Hayes!”

Her bright, operatic voice rang from end to end of the garden.

“You’ll figure this out fast,” Dash said, picking up