Chapter Fourteen #2
Swallowing hard, I finally tear my gaze from Connor’s and flip to a new piece of paper, my pencil scratching across the pristine surface. And when the minute is up, I show him my new sketch. It’s simple. One word. Three letters.
Yes.
…
I’m floating on air when I enter my dorm room and become even more buoyant with the discovery that I’m alone. I shut the door and lean against it for a full minute, letting myself bask in the memories of what happened last period.
Connor and I are officially a couple. We kissed for the rest of class to seal the deal.
I like him so much. He’s the only person I can be myself with here, even though I never fully let myself go.
I hate that I have to watch what I say and do around him, but I can’t expose myself completely.
I’ve halfway convinced myself that it’ll all work out in the end because the heart wants what it wants, right?
That’s what I’m going to manifest, at least.
I’m about to push away from the door when my gaze snags on the bulletin board that hangs above Priya’s desk. It’s always crooked, which makes no sense. Her side of the room is always immaculate, so why is that board off-center? Doesn’t she notice it?
Marching over to the wall, I nudge the bottom left edge of the corkboard, which sends it tipping over dramatically on the other side. I nudge it back into place, but it’s still crooked.
What the hell?
I rise on tiptoe and pluck the board off the wall completely, flipping it over to find a dry erase board on the other side. It’s covered with names and lines and arrows. Columns and what looks like code words and dollar amounts. Excuse me, pound amounts.
What is this? She’s clearly keeping track of something, but I don’t know what.
Most of the names listed are unfamiliar to me, but two stand out: Emily and Isla.
Someone—Priya, I guess—has drawn lines through their names.
It can’t be a coincidence that two girls who are no longer on campus have been removed from whatever record this is.
But no, not removed—crossed out. There’s something eerily violent about their names remaining here, but struck through.
Alarm races down my spine, raising goose bumps along my back and leaving me cold.
What is going on with Priya? This is some serial killer–level recordkeeping, according to every thriller flick I’ve ever watched.
She has questionable taste in girlfriends, for sure, but I’ve never thought of her as inherently dangerous.
Maybe I should have.
I grab my phone and take photos of the board. My brain is screaming this is evidence! But evidence of what? Priya’s always seemed too uptight for a life of crime, but maybe I should’ve suspected her from the start.
The door swings open at the exact moment I’m dropping my phone on my nightstand. I whirl around to find Priya standing in the doorway. Her lips are parted, and her gaze zeroes in on the board currently on my bed.
“What are you doing?” She slams the door shut and stalks toward me.
“I have the same question.” I raise a brow.
My words don’t faze her. She pushes past me and grabs the bulletin board, flips it over, and hangs it on the hook before taking a step back.
With a frown, she pushes it this way and that, trying to make the board hang straight, but it’s hopeless.
She’s really out here trying to pretend I didn’t see what we both know I saw.
“What I’m doing is none of your business,” she finally says, her voice shaky. She doesn’t sound mad. No, more like nervous.
“Now that I’ve found it, it kind of is my business.
” Priya glares, and I throw my hands up in the air, frustrated.
“Come on, Priya! This looks pretty suspicious, don’t you think?
All the times and code words you’ve got next to a list of names.
The prices. Oh, and nice touch with the lines through Emily and Isla’s names. Like they’re both already dead.”
She shrugs one shoulder, averting her gaze. “They’re both basically gone.”
Her callousness leaves me reeling. “Are you such an unfeeling bitch that you don’t care about anyone? You hang out with Abigail way too much, because her attitude is rubbing off on you big time.”
I’m grasping at straws with my accusations. I have no idea if Priya’s moods have to do with Abigail or if she was always this bitchy. Maybe that’s what makes them such a good match. Though I always assumed it’s better for two people to be different enough to balance each other out.
Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.
“Who the hell do you think you are? You don’t even know me.” Priya crosses her arms, shifting into pure defensive mode. “You don’t know my struggles or the pressure I’m dealing with. It’s so easy for you, coming to Wickham with your perfect grades and your New York pedigree.”
Ooh, what do you know? My stellar transcripts are brought up again. “How do you and Abigail know what my transcripts look like?”
Priya waves a dismissive hand. “It doesn’t matter. Just know I’m doing whatever it takes to maintain top status in our class. Whatever. It. Takes. I can’t let anyone take it from me. I need that spot on the Legacy List, Belinda. It’ll change everything.”
“Whatever it takes, huh? What exactly does that mean?”
There’s more to this than endless studying. She’s doing something else—like popping pills, for one.
“And don’t tell me it’s simply keeping up your grades with studying, because you’re hiding something, Priya. The list on that board is proof.”
A ragged sigh leaves her, and she shakes her head.
We stand there in a silent face-off for what feels like hours but is probably only a handful of seconds.
I infuse my spine with steel and let her see the determination in my gaze.
Today is a day for answers. I thought I was only going to get them from Julian, but I’m happy to add Priya Shah to my list. I won’t be moved.
And as Priya gusts out a huge sigh and drops her shoulders away from her ears, I think she knows it, too. “Fine,” she says. “But you have to keep this a secret.”
I make an X on my chest like Sophia did at the party Saturday night. “I will.”
I do everything in my power to keep the childhood vow we all know from running through my mind with the gesture: Cross my heart, hope to die. It would feel too much like tempting fate. And something tells me I’ve done enough of that today already.
I can see the cogs turning in her mind as she tries to come up with a proper explanation. After a minute, though, the tension tugging at her forehead and jaw dissolves, and I know she’s decided to tell me the truth.
“I sell old exams and use the money to buy Ritalin and Ativan. Whatever I can get.” She presses her lips together and stares at the floor.
“It sounds terrible, but I need to do something to stay awake and study. With classes and all the clubs I’m in, plus …
other things, I need as much time as I can get.
And the meds help ease some of my anxiety. I barely sleep right now.”
Using pills to stay awake definitely isn’t helping her anxiety, and neither is the pressure she’s clearly putting on herself to stay at the top of the class, but I don’t bring that up.
“Who else knows that you do this? Besides the students who buy the exams from you. And Abigail, obviously.”
“It’s sort of anonymous, my exam business.” Priya lifts her head, her gaze locking with mine. “I have a burner phone, and they pay me in cash. I know their names, but they don’t know mine.”
“So no one knows it’s you.” Pretty genius, I must admit.
“Well, Abigail knows.” Priya lifts her chin, her expression turning defiant. “But she’s the only one. That’s why she’s so protective of me. She keeps people at a distance so they don’t figure out what I’m doing. I would be ruined if it ever came out. Absolutely ruined.”
Priya’s right. I could destroy her now that I know about her dirty dealings.
“I can keep a secret.” I hesitate. “I’ve already been keeping a secret for you anyway.”
“Like what?” Priya’s brows draw together.
“I know about you. And Abigail. That you two are … together.”
Priya’s face crumples, and she collapses onto the edge of her bed, crying. She covers her face and sobs into her hands. “Please don’t tell anyone. That’ll destroy everything, if word gets out about us.”
I almost want to tell her lots of people must’ve figured this out by now, and that maybe if it’s a secret they shouldn’t make out in unlocked rooms at house parties, but I keep my mouth shut.
Instead, I go over to the bed and sit beside her, slipping my arm around her shoulders and giving her a one-sided hug.
“I won’t tell. I promise. Though I don’t get it.
Would your parents be upset that you’re … gay?”
“No, of course not,” Priya says, like the very thought of someone not being accepted for their sexuality has literally never occurred to her.
“They wouldn’t care. That’s not the point.
Not really. It’s because Abigail is a fifth-generation Legacy and I have no family history at Wickham.
I’m the first to make it in, though my older brothers each applied.
Twice. But if I nail that top spot, my younger brother and sister will have easy entry to both Wickham and the Legacy List. This could set our future family—my kids, and my siblings’ kids, and their kids—on a path to excellence.
Opportunities like this don’t come along often.
That’s why I need to do whatever it takes to ensure I’m number one.
And why I need to keep certain parts of my life … quiet.”
I give her another gentle squeeze, doing my best to hide my shock at her admission.
There’s a tremendous amount of pressure piled on Priya, and I don’t know how she does it all.
In her shoes, maybe I’d be taking illegal prescription drugs, too.
No wonder she’s stressed and anxious and bitchy all the time.
The longer I console Priya, the more my imagination goes into overdrive.
Did Emily figure out what Priya was doing and confront her?
Selling tests, taking drugs, her relationship with Abigail …
a roommate wouldn’t have to be that observant to figure out what Priya is doing.
Could that have pushed Priya to commit …
murder? Maybe that’s why Priya’s stressed.
She’s hiding a tell-tale heart in the wall, like in that Edgar Allan Poe story.
Murder is an even bigger secret to keep than selling tests, and that already seems to be sending her anxiety into overdrive.
Killing a person would get to anyone eventually, even if it was an accident.
I decide to broach the subject carefully.
“It must be really tough to keep this from everyone.” I release my hold on Priya’s shoulders, and she wipes the tears from her face, sniffing loudly. “Like your old roommate? Did she know about it?”
“Oh, Emily was oblivious. It was her best friend who figured me out first.”
Wow. Okay. That’s interesting. “You mean the girl in the coma? Isla?”
Priya nods. “Yeah, and she was kind of a slag about it, too. She threatened to out me to administration.”
“Seriously?” My brows shoot up. Look at how principled my sister is. She was so offended by Priya’s little side hustle, she was ready to destroy it without hesitation.
“Yes, seriously. Isla told me if I didn’t give her a discount on the tests for Emily’s classes, she would send Headmaster Harrington an anonymous tip about my business.
” Priya’s voice drips with disgust. “She always had cash to pay for the tests, and sometimes she’d even pay me more than I’d charge her, so after a while I didn’t much care what she said, but still. It was still shitty of her, you know?”
I think of the cash in that old hoodie pocket in Isla’s closet. She must’ve kept it on hand for the sole purpose of purchasing those exams. But why would Isla be the one to buy them for Emily? Up until her father was arrested, Emily should’ve had her own money.
“So wait a minute … Isla was buying tests for Emily? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if you knew Emily. Little Miss Perfect.” Priya scoffs. “She would have sooner failed out than cheated. But it’s not like having the test means you don’t need to study. You still have to. Having access to the old tests just makes things … easier. No. Less hard.”
Priya’s phone buzzes, but she ignores it. It’s been buzzing with notifications for the last few minutes. I don’t actually have to wonder who it is. Who else would text nonstop but Abigail?
“You should check your phone,” I suggest when it buzzes yet again. “Someone really wants to talk to you.”
A sigh leaves Priya, and she grabs her phone, frowning at the screen. “It’s Abigail, of course.”
“Of course.” I try to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but it’s difficult.
“She’s headed to the dining hall for dinner.” Priya lifts her gaze to mine. “Want to join us?”
I’m taken aback by her invitation, and I wonder if she’s adhering to the old standard, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
I don’t necessarily view Priya as an enemy, especially not after what she revealed to me. I have a better understanding of her now, though I still think she’s kind of the worst.
“I need to do a few things first, but you go on ahead.” I smile at her, not wanting her to feel uneasy about our conversation. “And I meant what I said earlier. Your secrets are safe with me.”
Priya stands, the relief written all over her face.
“Thank you, Belinda. I-I appreciate it.” She takes the time to run a makeup wipe under her eyes, fluff her hair, and just generally put herself back together.
With her fingers on the door handle, she stops and turns back to me.
“I know we haven’t exactly gotten off on the right foot.
I suppose I’m … defensive. When it comes to new people.
I think you can understand why. So I guess what I’m trying to say is …
I hope we can be better acquainted going forward. ”
I give her a nod, confident that’s as close to an apology as Priya can possibly get without bursting into flame.
When she closes the door behind her, I throw myself across my narrow bed, rolling over so I’m staring up at the ceiling.
Every day, more information is revealed, which is what I need to figure out who could’ve hurt Isla and Emily.
But I don’t feel any closer to discovering the truth. Not really. Because it feels like everyone at Wickham is up to no good.