Strange Lies Page 19

  Benny looked at her. He’d heard her say that about red roses before. It was strange realizing they’d been friends long enough for the conversation to get repetitive.

  Virginia stuck her foot out and kicked his shoulder. “So come on, tell me what happened!”

  “Well, I couldn’t confirm everything before a nurse kicked me out. But I think I know what’s going on.”

  “Tell me!”

  Benny took a second to organize his thoughts. “Okay, so . . . obviously I never believed for a second that the impalement was an accident. But Trevor’s motive seemed way too flimsy. Revenge for DeAndre winning the election? Trevor is immature, but he’s not a four-year-old. I just couldn’t believe he was that sore of a loser. So I thought Yasmin must have orchestrated it. Or Calvin. But what if it wasn’t about being a sore loser? What if Trevor actually . . . won?”

  “Won what?” Virginia adjusted her arm. It was starting to hurt, but she wanted to know Benny’s dirt more than she wanted to call the nurse for more painkillers.

  “Won the election. What if he actually won? Do you remember when they announced the results, and Trevor made such an idiot of himself, ‘succeeding from the Union’ and all that crap? I remember him shouting that the election had been rigged. It seemed like it was all a big joke. But what if Trevor was acting out because he’d actually won? It’s one thing to lose—you get over that. It’s another thing to win and have it taken from your hands.”

  “Why would they rig the election against Trevor? He’s, like, Mr. Popular, and his dad’s the president of the Board of Trustees or whatever.”

  Benny was staring out the window. Virginia had noticed this about him before: whenever he was on a serious train of thought, he didn’t look at her when he was speaking. It was annoying. It made her feel like a dumping ground for his thought process instead of an actual person having a conversation.

  “Winship has . . . a reputation,” he was saying. “We’re the least diverse private school in Atlanta, did you know that? It’s reaching a point where something has to change. And the Board is thinking, what if we just stick a black kid on display at the very top, as the president of the student body. Then maybe we won’t have to address the actual issues of the student body. The issues of our sons, who think they’re living in Dixie Land.”

  “So wait, you’re saying Mr. Cheek stole the election from his own kid? And gave it to DeAndre?”

  Benny nodded. “And DeAndre knows. He knows he didn’t really win. But he took the position anyway. It wasn’t completely selfish—DeAndre likes Winship. He has true school spirit. He’s a better leader than Trevor, and he knew he’d be a better president, even if he didn’t have the votes to back it up.”

  “If the people wanted Trevor, then they deserved him,” Virginia said scornfully. “Idiots.”

  “This election was probably the first thing Trevor truly earned in his entire life. Imagine having everything handed to you on a silver tray. Then you go out and get one thing for yourself, one thing that wasn’t handed to you. And it’s taken away. Trevor toed the line for a long time, hiding his rage under a mask of buffoonery. But the volcano was bound to erupt. It wasn’t an accident, but it wasn’t premeditated, either. The lights went out, and in that moment of darkness, he just . . . exploded.”

  “I’d probably explode if my dad stabbed me in the back like that,” Virginia said. “That’s messed up.”

  “Mr. Cheek is in a very precarious position right now. He created this situation, and now he’s stuck between his volatile son, who feels betrayed, and the boy his son almost murdered, who now has the power to send Trevor to prison. . . . I’d like to get some proof. It shouldn’t be that hard. All elections at Winship are conducted through e-mail. The votes are collated and stored in cloud software that’s accessible from any administrator’s computer. I’ve broken into the admin software before. It was easy.”

  “What? When?”

  Benny looked at her like he was snapping out of a trance. “Um, huh?”

  “When did you break into the admin software?”

  “I . . . I don’t know. . . . What?”

  Virginia cocked her eyebrow. “What is wrong with you? Are you having a stroke?”

  “Let’s just move on, please.”

  “Okay, weirdo . . .”

  Benny looked out the window. He could feel Virginia staring at him. Then he felt her look away. He exhaled.

  That was way too close.

  Benny knew he was a bad liar. But he needed to not be this bad. A few weeks ago, during the Mr. Choi investigation, he’d broken into the principal’s computer to look up Virginia’s records. There had been some red flags, and Benny had questions about her Florida origins. Virginia never talked about her home or her family, except for one time when she mentioned a fantastical-sounding stepfather in Cuba. The records hadn’t revealed much, except for a restraining order from two years ago between her and a Stephen Kroll in Boca Raton. Benny hadn’t been able to determine whether Virginia was the victim or the perpetrator, and he’d felt so guilty about invading her privacy that he’d abandoned the line of inquiry and tried not to think about it.

  “It goes without saying that this information stays between us,” Benny said, trying to bounce back from his near blunder. “DeAndre wants the money. It’s his decision. We can’t screw it up by doing anything that would derail his deal with Mr. Cheek. Trevor must remain free. Do you understand? We can’t tell anyone. After everything DeAndre’s been through, we’re not going to make his life worse.”

  Virginia nodded but seemed distracted by something out the window. “Omigod! Do you see that?” She pointed to the sky. Dark gray clouds had formed south of the city. It looked like Mordor from The Lord of the Rings. Or like the wrath of DeAndre’s neighborhood coming to rain down on them.

  “See what?”

  “IT’S A BANANA!” she yelled at the top of her lungs.

  Benny squinted. Sure enough, one of the dark clouds was an oblong, curved shape that did kind of resemble a banana. Virginia was full-on freaking out, screaming excitedly. Benny stared at her. He’d never met someone who vacillated so unpredictably between a shrewd observer and a weird idiot.

  “Please quiet down,” Benny said, not wanting a bunch of nurses to flood in and sedate her.

  “Bye-bye, banana!” The banana in the sky was being absorbed by the mass of rain clouds, and Virginia waved at it. Then she turned back to Benny. “So does this mean Calvin’s cleared? As a suspect?”

  “Why, because a banana appeared in the sky?”

  “No, because you just said it was Trevor.”

  Benny shook his head. “There’s still . . . something with Calvin. I can tell. Just stay on him. And anyway, the golf team investigation is still open. We need to find the caddie they assaulted. Calvin was there. He was involved.”

  “But he’s not like those other guys. He doesn’t care about Dixie Land or Southern pride or whatever. He’s actually, like, a cool person.”

  “Virginia!” Benny suddenly felt exasperated. “Are you unable to continue this investigation?”

  Virginia looked incredibly offended. “Um, pardonez moi?”

  “I gave you the lead on this because I thought you were capable of being objective. But if you aren’t, you need to give the case back to me.”

  “What? No way!”

  “I don’t care how ‘cool’ Calvin seems. Just stay on him. Except don’t get in a car with him again,” he stipulated. “He’s obviously an unsafe driver.”

  “It wasn’t Calvin’s fault. It was Big Gabe,” Virginia said, but Benny didn’t think she sounded convinced by her own words. This was going to be a problem, he could see already. Virginia couldn’t investigate Calvin if she was just going to construe every situation to defend him. But right now wasn’t a good time to get in a fight about it. Virginia seemed irritable and on edge. Her arm probably hurt like hell, even though she was acting tough about it.

  “Do you think Rodrigo would che
ck me out?”

  Benny shot her a look. Check me out? Did she seriously want to date a man twice her age whom she’d known for five seconds?

  “I need an adult’s signature to get out of here.”

  “Ohhh. . . . Sure, of course.”

  Outside, it started raining. The gloom seemed inside the room, making everything feel gray.

  “Listen, I’m going to be busy this week,” Benny said. “There have been developments with my . . . thing.”

  “Oh my god, what is with you and your thing?”

  Benny ignored her. “I need to get my grades up four points by the end of the week. That means I’ll mostly be studying. I’ll follow up with the drug dealer in the bathroom and the election rigging. But you’re in charge of Calvin and the golf team.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re a capable person.”

  “No, why do you need to get your grades up four points all of a sudden?”

  “I just . . . do.”

  Virginia flopped back on the pillow. Benny was so annoying. The second she pegged him as a truly boring square, he turned out to be more mysterious than anyone. Who the hell was his hot Hispanic friend? What the hell was his thing that he refused to tell her? And what was the story with his damn dog? She sipped her cup of tea. Passion tasted suspiciously like artificial raspberry flavoring.

  “I hate Sundays,” she said. “Will you do my math homework?”

  “That would be unethical.”

  “Pleeeeeeease?”

  “Fine.”

  Virginia sat up, surprised. She hadn’t been asking him seriously. She’d assumed it would take much more than a “please” for Benny to take the stick out of his ass and violate his prissy code of ethics.

  “Are you ready to get out of here?” Benny asked. The idea of dumping her at the dismal Boarders in the dismal rain—her body literally broken—made him feel depressed and useless. But where else was he supposed to take her? It was where she belonged.

  The Boarders, 5:55 p.m.

  To: c.harker@winship.edu

  From: v.leeds@winship.edu

  Subject: (no subject)

  Still wanna get Chinsees food? I guss we cant drive (oops) but we cn get delivry . . .

  She’d sent the e-mail an hour ago and he hadn’t responded. Was he mad that she’d made him wreck his car? He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would care about that stuff. But she didn’t actually know him very well, did she? The price of that kiss had been incredibly steep: a Jaguar and an entire arm. She didn’t regret it, though. Did he?

  Chinsees. It was hard to type left-handed. She hoped the misspelling came off as carefree and lackadaisical, but the more she sat there waiting for him to reply, the more embarrassed she felt.

  Why am I sitting here like a loser? she asked herself. She didn’t want people to think she was the kind of person who sat around waiting for a guy to e-mail her back. Of course, no one was there to see but Gottfried, who was asleep on the sofa clutching a cold piece of pizza like a teddy bear. But the trick to being the person you wanted to be was to be it even when no one was watching. So she shut off the computer and went outside. Ten minutes later she was standing in front of Calvin’s house.

  The rain had stopped, but the sky was still gloomy and depressing. It was the kind of sky that seemed to be saying, Go inside and do your homework. Virginia looked up at it. No.

  The doorbell was old-fashioned, a Victorian brass key that made a fancy-sounding chime. Rrrrrring!

  A long minute passed, and then the door creaked open. Virginia inhaled sharply. She’d forgotten how terrifying Headmaster Harker was in person. He was so tall it felt like he could simply lift his foot and squash her like an insect. And the way he was looking at her, Virginia felt like an insect. He didn’t even say hello—he just stared at her. His eyes moved coldly from her black cast to her face.

  “Sorry to bother you,” she said, her voice squeaking. “Um, I’m Virginia Leeds? I’m in tenth grade? Is Calvin home?”

  “Calvin is unable to receive guests at this time.” The headmaster began closing the door.

  “Wait! Is he okay? I was in the car crash with him.” She raised her broken arm.

  “Calvin is fine. Calvin is . . . grounded.”

  “For how long?”

  “That is a private matter, Miss Leeds.” He started to close the door again.

  “Wait. Wait! Could you at least give him a message from me?”

  He stopped, apparently waiting to hear the message.

  “Um, uh, just tell him . . . hi.”

  “Hi,” the headmaster repeated, as if it were the most asinine word he’d ever been compelled to utter.

  “Or, wait, tell him—”

  “I’m afraid I don’t have time for this, Miss Leeds.”

  “Just tell him . . . Tell him I had anesthesia, so I was unconscious again? And I wondered if . . . all the world sucked again.” It had sounded romantic in her mind, but out loud it seemed so stupid it made her cringe.

  “I certainly will give him that message,” the headmaster said. “Thank you for stopping by.” Then he shut the door in her face.

  Damn it.

  Virginia bit her lip. She wasn’t an idiot; she knew there was no chance in hell that Headmaster Harker would actually tell Calvin that a girl came by and said some thing about anesthesia and the world sucking. She had to try again. She knew she was being pushy, but she turned the brass key anyway.

  Rrrrrring . . .

  Nobody answered this time.

  Monday

  The assembly hall, 8:01 a.m.

  “What is dignity? What is self-respect?”

  These were interesting questions coming from a woman wearing the ugliest pantsuit in creation, and who was so short she had to stand on a box to reach the podium.

  Mrs. Jewel paused to glare at everyone in the audience. Chrissie sunk down in her seat. She hated getting yelled at. It made her want to crawl into a hole and cry. Everyone was freaking out that Mrs. Jewel might cancel the Homecoming dance on Saturday. Chrissie wished she would just do it already, and skip the part where she made everyone feel horrible.

  “I am appalled by the behavior that many of you showed this weekend. In my ten years as principal at the Saint Mary’s School in Connecticut, I never saw as much troubling conduct as I have seen in my two weeks here at Winship. Two of your fellow students spent yesterday in the hospital, one with a broken bone and one with whiplash. Those of you who attended the so-called fundraiser at the Cheek residence—and you know who you are—have disgraced your school, your parents, and most important, you have disgraced yourselves.”

  Chrissie felt her eyes stinging with tears. Please don’t cry. Please don’t cry, she begged herself. Why did Mrs. Jewel have to be such a mean old lady? She was probably just jealous, because no one in their right mind would ever do a tequila shot off her troll body.

  “The young women of this school are long overdue for a lesson in self-respect. Do self-respecting ladies auction their bodies like chattel? Do young men show their respect for ladies by buying them to use as vessels for alcoholic beverages that are being illegally consumed? No, they do not. And to answer the question I know is burning in everyone’s minds, no, I am not canceling the Homecoming dance.”

  There was a collective sigh of relief, and a few people even clapped. But Mrs. Jewel wasn’t finished.

  “However, as of this moment, I am declaring all dates heretofore arranged to be void. The women will be in charge. This is not a request. This is not optional. The Homecoming dance is now girls-ask-boys.”

  Everyone groaned loudly. There had been one official girls-ask-boys dance in Winship history, and it had been a disaster. In the end, everyone had mostly gone stag. It wasn’t that the girls were scared of boys. It was that there weren’t enough crush-worthy guys to go around, and none of the girls wanted to be selfish and grab the good ones, which would screw over their friends. Girls stuck together at Winship, especially the cheerle
aders. Didn’t Mrs. Jewel understand that? It just worked better if the guys were in charge.

  Chrissie scanned the sea of heads for Benny Flax and spotted him in the front row. Chrissie had always assumed Benny was with Virginia Leeds; they even had those ugly matching rings. But apparently Virginia was dating that weird vampire Calvin Harker, and Chrissie was glad. She’d never considered Benny Flax dating material before; he wasn’t in her social circle at all, and Chrissie usually only went for athletes. She liked manly guys. But maybe this whole time she’d been going for the wrong kind of manly. Benny wasn’t a football stud, but he was strong in a different way. He reminded her of her grandfather, who had been an important Georgia senator. She’d always loved him and imagined that if he’d been alive, he would have stood up for her after what happened last Fourth of July, instead of blaming her like her father had.

  Did I tell Benny about . . . the plane? Chrissie couldn’t remember. She hoped not. She knew she tended to say a lot of random stuff when she was drunk. But hopefully she hadn’t said . . . that.

  “Fuckin’ Yankee midget tellin’ us how to do our business,” a guy behind her was muttering. All around, everyone was whispering and complaining.

  “Enough,” Mrs. Jewel said. “You know, when I was at Radcliffe, an exceptional woman said to me, ‘As a woman, there’s no greater power than the power you give yourself.’ And that woman’s name was—”

  “Hillary Clinton,” everyone groaned. Mrs. Jewel had already told her Hillary Clinton story five thousand times. But at least she wasn’t yelling anymore. Chrissie fiddled with her charm bracelet. She was anxious to hear what Brittany and Angie thought about the girls-ask-guys situation, so she could know what to do.

  Did I blend my makeup all the way? She’d forgotten to check her face in natural light before she left the Boarders. What if everyone could see the big blob of concealer on her cheek? She wished Mrs. Jewel would wrap it up so she could go look in a mirror. Chrissie had a weird relationship with mirrors. She constantly wanted to check her face to make sure it looked perfect. Which it never really did. Which just made her want to check the mirror even more. Truly beautiful people probably never looked in mirrors, because their beauty came from within. People like the Native Americans, or Maria from The Sound of Music.