Strange Lies Read online

  Be cool, she commanded herself. If he was watching, she didn’t want him to see her acting scared. She sat up straighter, taking a deep breath.

  To: [email protected]

  From: [email protected]

  Subject: Your the boss

  if u don’t want a piece of the business, i need that $400 back. No joke

  Now her heart was truly pounding. The four hundred dollars was gone. She’d spent it on the palladium silver decoder rings, which now seemed like a completely stupid and childish thing to have done. Why won’t this loser leave me alone? True, she’d basically stolen four hundred dollars from him, but after everything that went down at the bonfire (getting pummeled by Winn and then picked up by the police), she hadn’t expected him to be crazy enough to try to get it back. Maybe she could return the rings? She dismissed the idea immediately. The idea of explaining it to Benny, and Benny looking at her like she was an utter fool—no way. She could just call the police and give them Min-Jun’s name, but that felt like the reaction of a little kid. It definitely wasn’t what Benny would do.

  She glanced down at her wrist. W.W.B.D.? Benny hated the police; Virginia didn’t know exactly why—something involving a dog a long time ago? All she knew was that if two paths diverged in life, and one path was to ask for help and the other was to take care of the thing himself, Benny would choose the second one. It was one of the few things she and Benny actually agreed on: you can’t count on anyone besides yourself.

  She looked out the window again, half expecting to see Min-Jun waving hello to her. But there was only the reflection of herself looking like her own ghost, white-faced and semitransparent against the backdrop of dark trees outside.

  Another message appeared. Virginia was tempted to just delete it. But she opened it and scanned it quickly. It contained two lines:

  btw your legs looked amazing tonight

  Hott

  Virginia yanked the power cable out of the wall. The light from the lamp and the computer screen went black. Virginia froze in the darkness for a minute, barely breathing.

  Tonight.

  It was him. Min-Jun was the drug dealer in the bathroom. Virginia felt a shiver, realizing he’d been looking at her legs under the stall door. What did he think he was doing? Had he switched from porn to drugs? Or were the drugs a ruse, and he was just in there to spy on girls while they peed?

  Wait, she thought. Min-Jun with ironed pants? She couldn’t picture it. Unless he’d done it on purpose to divert suspicion. But she couldn’t picture him doing that, either. He struck her as fairly . . . lazy.

  Christ, calm down. She refused to be scared by that creepy loser. She got that Locker Room Wildcats was extra gross and illegal because high schoolers were underage. But somehow she still found the whole thing more insulting than scary. Virginia didn’t think of herself as underage. She didn’t think of herself as a child. She was fifteen years old and had been taking care of herself since the eighth grade. Winn and Corny weren’t children. They were sexual beings who obviously enjoyed having sex with each other. They weren’t playing house; they were . . . fucking. The thought was unbearably exciting but also filled Virginia with queasiness. It was a private thing that she shouldn’t have seen.

  Virginia was annoyed now that she’d killed the computer before writing her e-mail to Calvin. It would take five minutes for the old geezer to boot up again, and she couldn’t deal with sitting exposed in front of that window anymore. She got up and snuck back to her room, locking the deadbolt from Home Depot that Benny had especially installed on her door.

  She got in bed with her purple cat-shaped pillow named Puffy that she’d had since she was ten, feeling increasingly stupid for letting Min-Jun’s e-mails freak her out. She’d handle the money situation; it wasn’t a big deal. And she wasn’t some baby who ran and hid from an e-mail. Now that she was safe under the covers, Min-Jun’s words took on a different flavor—a flattering one. Min-Jun was a creep, but still—out of all the girls at Winship, he’d noticed her.

  Hott.

  Friday

  The assembly hall, 8:00 a.m.

  Three announcements were made in succession, each seeming unrelated to the others. The first: DeAndre Bell was alive. He’d been in surgery for twelve hours and was now in stable condition. A crippled condition, but a stable one. The second: Craig Beaver was being suspended for two weeks due to a disciplinary infraction. No details were given. The third: the governor of Georgia would be inviting the top two students from each grade to a special leadership luncheon at the Governor’s Mansion—invitees TBA.

  The second two announcements were barely heard, because the whole assembly hall burst into relieved applause at the news that DeAndre was alive. It wasn’t like a few weeks ago, Benny noted, when Brittany Montague turned out to be alive. At that announcement, the joy had been so boisterous and out of control, it was like all the angels in heaven cheering the victory of God. This was more like a collective sigh: Thank god we don’t have to deal with this. Maybe Brittany’s close call with death had inoculated the student body against future close calls. Or maybe it was just because DeAndre, though popular and beloved, was fundamentally not one of their own. He was from Lakewood Heights; he took a public bus to school; if he went to Harvard for college, it would be as a scholarship student, not a legacy. And he was black. Winship Academy had been the last private school in Atlanta to desegregate in the ’60s. The depressing truth was that DeAndre could win student body president and still be regarded as an outsider. He would have been mourned but ultimately forgotten, whereas for Brittany they would have built immortal statues.

  “Many of you will be called to answer some questions in the library conference room today. The police are here, and I have assured them that our students will be cooperating one hundred percent.”

  People were murmuring and not really paying attention. Mrs. Jewel had not managed to command much respect at Winship in the two weeks since her arrival. Maybe it was her diminutive height, or her Barbie-ish surname, or her obsession with the girls’ skirt length (“two inches above the knee!”), or the fact that she constantly corrected people for calling her “Mrs. Jewel” instead of “Principal Jewel,” which only made everyone double down on calling her the former. She just didn’t seem to understand how things worked at Winship.

  The bell rang, and the assembly hall began emptying out, everyone talking loudly and squeezing into the aisles like herded animals. Benny always stayed seated after assembly so he could leave in a more civilized manner once the crowd thinned out.

  “So, apparently, when the lights went out, Trevor slipped on a banana peel. Can you believe that? A banana peel. Is life an insane cartoon or what?”

  Benny turned to look at Virginia. She was slumped in her seat with her legs sticking completely out, forcing everyone to step over them on their way out.

  “Wait, what are you talking about?” Benny asked.

  “Trevor was next to his dumb deer in the gym, and when the lights went out, he slipped on a banana peel and fell on the deer, and it launched into DeAndre’s chest.” Virginia shuddered. “It’d be hilarious if it weren’t so horrible.”

  “Wait, where did you hear that?”

  “I dunno. It’s just what everyone’s saying.”

  How come I didn’t hear it, then? But he already knew the answer to that question. He always managed to be in the same place at the same time with the same people as Virginia, yet he may as well have been on Mars, socially-speaking.

  “Surely that’s a joke,” he said. “A banana peel? Did you see it?”

  “No. I was kind of distracted by the fountain of blood and everyone freaking out.”

  “All right, all right. . . . Well, Trevor was holding a banana. That much is true. I saw it myself. There was a ninth grader doing a project on the banana-ripening process. Did you see her?”

  “Yancey Kemper?”

  “Yeah. Does she have any connection to DeAndre?”

  “Probably. I mea
n, we’re all connected.”

  Benny knew she wasn’t speaking in a hippie-dippy collective soul kind of way, just that it was a small school, and most everyone had been cooped up together since they were five. You could probably take any two students at random and come up with a plausible reason why they’d want to kill each other.

  “Did you see that purple light?” Benny asked.

  “Yeah, it was Yasmin’s crazy project. It caused the power outage. Did you ever find Winn?”

  “Hm?”

  “Remember? The drug dealer in the bathroom?”

  Benny nodded. “Oh yeah. Let’s give that case second priority for the moment. I want to concentrate on DeAndre.”

  “Trevor’s saying it was an accident,” Virginia said. “But I guess if that were true, the police wouldn’t be here.”

  “I don’t believe in accidents anyway.”

  The assembly hall was mostly quiet now, the outpouring of four hundred people reduced to a trickle of dawdlers.

  “Your Highness,” a guy said to Virginia, bowing affectedly as he passed down the aisle. Then another guy did the same thing, and the two of them went off snickering together.

  Benny looked at her. “What was that about?”

  Virginia shrugged. “No idea. Guys have been doing that to me all morning. People are freaks.”

  People are freaks. It was statements like these that made Benny realize that Virginia didn’t really understand what Mystery Club was about. Life wasn’t “an insane cartoon.” People weren’t simply “freaks.” Everything had an explanation. And the entire point of the club was figuring out what it was.

  “Okay, well . . . who was around the booth when the lights went out? Besides Trevor.”

  “Um, it was so chaotic. . . . I think Constance and Beth were there. A bunch of parents. Oh my god, did I tell you about the lady who barfed everywhere?”

  “Mm-hm. . . . Why is Craig Beaver being suspended? Have you heard anything about that?”

  Virginia shook her head. “Not really. Apparently he brought a bunch of bullets to the science expo and was throwing them at people. Did you see it?”

  “Yeah, I saw it,” Benny said. “But Winn Davis keeps an entire gun in his car all the time, and he never gets suspended. Something else must be going on. . . . Craig isn’t on the football team, is he? Or student government?”

  Virginia shook her head again. “I think he just does golf. But so does Trevor. All those preppy guys do. DeAndre doesn’t.”

  Benny realized he was biting his lip. There were too many threads here, and he didn’t know where to begin. It wasn’t like his other mysteries, where the path had been very clear. He pulled out a notebook.

  INCIDENT:

  1) Deer in the Blackout

  2) Drug Dealer in the Bathroom

  SUSPECTS:

  Yasmin Astarabadi

  Winn Davis

  Trevor Cheek ?

  Craig Beaver

  “Let’s take this one by one,” he said. “Process of elimination. Starting with Yasmin.”

  “Why Yasmin?”

  “With any odd occurrence, begin at the most basic point. If the power hadn’t gone out, none of this could have happened. Think about how forcefully Trevor must have pushed that deer to be able to pierce DeAndre’s organs. You’d have to be a professional stuntman to finagle an assault like that while making it look like an accident in view of a hundred people. But in the darkness, you could just stab away. And when the lights came on, pretend you slipped on a banana.”

  Virginia looked skeptical. “You’re saying Yasmin Astarabadi and Trevor Cheek were, like, coordinating? She and Trevor barely live in the same universe.”

  “Exactly. That’s why they would be the perfect co-conspirators. But it’s far too early to get attached to a particular narrative. Keep your mind open.”

  “Okay. . . . Why is Craig a suspect? Just because he’s being suspended for some mystery reason?”

  “Yes, that,” Benny allowed. “But also his presentation at the science expo. Did you hear it? It was about how, like, bullets are just small bits of metal alloy. There’s nothing inherently deadly about them. It’s the act of propelling them, forcing them, exploding them at 1,700 miles per hour—that’s what kills. And the same could be said of a taxidermied deer. It’s just skin and stuffing, an inanimate object. A grotesque trophy. But shoved into someone’s chest with enough force? Suddenly it’s a deadly weapon. Any object is a weapon if you use it like a weapon.”

  “Huh . . .” Virginia was picking at the scab on her leg again. Benny wondered how much she’d absorbed of what he’d just said.

  “Anyway. I want a list of witnesses. People in the blackout who were near Trevor when he supposedly slipped on this alleged banana.”

  Virginia said nothing for a moment, then sat up. “Wait, myself? Make the list myself?”

  “Yes. What, are you not equal to the task?”

  “No, I am, I totally am,” Virginia said quickly. “I was just—you usually do everything yourself. But I can do it!”

  Virginia’s excited grin made Benny feel deceitful. The truth was, Benny had no idea how to find out who was around Trevor when the lights went out. The idea of going up to people like a clueless fool and grilling them for details made him want to crawl into a hole. But Virginia didn’t care. She’d go up to anyone and say exactly what she wanted. It was one of her more annoying qualities, but in this case it would actually be useful.

  “Min-Jun e-mailed me last night.”

  “What?”

  “He sent me a sex tape of Corny and Winn. Can you believe it? After everything that happened, he’s still skulking around trying to make Locker Room Wildcats happen. Dude needs to learn when to fold.”

  Benny looked around. No one was listening and the assembly hall had almost entirely emptied out. But Virginia was still talking way too loud.

  “Shhh!” He leaned in. “What did he want?”

  “Just . . . same thing. An inside man to replace Choi. Inside girl. Obviously I’m not going to do it.”

  “Did he threaten you?”

  “No, no. He’s not like that. I think it’s just business for him.”

  Benny squinted, examining her face. “How did he know your e-mail address?”

  “Um, I dunno. I guess he just figured out the formula for Winship accounts. Last name, first initial.”

  “You hadn’t contacted him before?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  Benny didn’t say anything.

  “What, you think I’m lying?”

  Benny shrugged. He knew it was a sore spot with her, not being trusted. But it was hard to trust her when sometimes it seemed like she operated with a slightly frayed tether to reality. “I don’t think you’re lying,” he said carefully. “I just wonder . . . what the facts are.”

  “I just told you the facts. You are so annoying! It’s like a fact isn’t a fact unless Benny Flax saw it with his own eyes. God! If I tell you something, it’s a fact!”

  “Okay, sorry!” Benny said.

  Virginia folded her arms. “So should I call the police on him or what?”

  “The police? Of course not.”

  “Well, why not? He’s still out there. Apparently getting his face bashed in by Winn Davis didn’t hamper his ambition to creep on every cheerleader in America. I mean, come on. Let’s just turn him in and be done with it.”

  “You can do what you want,” Benny said tersely. “But if you call the police, don’t expect me to back you up.”

  “Oh my god. What is your angst about cops? Were you a donut in a past life or something?”

  “A cop shot my dog right in front of me.” Benny didn’t look at Virginia but sensed her shock.

  “Whoa. Jesus . . . I mean, I heard there was something with a dog. Was it attacking someone? Was it justified?”

  “No. It was not justified.” Benny punctuated the words with steely silence.

  “Well, what happened? Tell me the whole st
ory.”

  “It’s not a story,” Benny said. He wished he hadn’t mentioned Tank at all. It was a weird effect Virginia had on him sometimes—he opened up and things slipped out. But he couldn’t explain what happened to his dog without explaining his father’s accident. And Virginia had that look in her eyes—that tell me tell me tell me look that made him snap closed again like a clam.

  “I didn’t mean it like that,” she was saying. “Just tell me what happened. I’m sure I’ll be on your side.”

  Benny stood up abruptly. “It was . . . whatever. It wasn’t a big thing.”

  “Obviously it was, or it wouldn’t have formed your entire attitude toward police officers.”

  “Just drop it, please,” Benny said firmly. “And get me the list of witnesses by lunch.”

  “Okay, fine.” Virginia didn’t look at him, making a show of getting her backpack together.

  Benny turned to leave. Then he turned back. “Thank you. For making the list.”

  Virginia looked up, meeting his eyes with such open blankness that Benny felt suddenly flustered. Thank you? What an awkward thing to say. She wasn’t doing him a favor, she was doing her job. He was about to retract it, but then she said, “You’re welcome.”

  They left the assembly hall through separate exits. Benny went through the lobby, where the Fellowship of Christian Athletes had already produced a poster-size “Get Well” card for DeAndre. A group of people were huddled around with brightly colored markers.

  “Everyone sign!” Corny Davenport called out in her tinkling, Bambi-ish voice. Benny tried to pass, but she caught him by the arm. “You don’t have to be a Christian, and you don’t have to be an athlete!” The FCA people were constantly saying that. It always made Benny want to scream at them, Then get a different name!

  “Let me see that,” Benny said, picking up the giant card. About a hundred people had already signed it. He looked for Yasmin Astarabadi’s signature. He was familiar with her perfect, tiny handwriting. He didn’t see it anywhere.

  “Has Trevor signed it yet?”