Chapter 27
VARDA HIGH SCHOOL GYM
“Thanks,” I say again to Max. I put my hand on his shoulder and let him spin me out to the dance floor.
He’s surprisingly graceful—the music has shifted to something slow and dreamy, and while we don’t press together like the couples around us, he rests a hand lightly on my back to steer me around. I wouldn’t have thought he could dance.
“That guy’s a fucking creep,” he says.
“Tell me about it. I was trying to figure out a delicate way to escape.”
“Delicate? You?” His mouth gives the faintest hint of a smile. “Here I thought you were so edgy and violent.”
“Ha ha.” I look around the gym. “Where’s Katy? I’m surprised she’s willing to share you with me.”
“She’s getting punch. She’ll be fine for a song or two.”
Based on how she acted at the outlet mall, I’m not so sure. But I let that go.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in a suit before. Or at a dance, for that matter,” I say.
“Yeah, and I was right, the music does suck.” He grimaces at the DJ. “What is this?”
“It’s called pop music. Short for pop-u-lar.” I overenunciate the word. “Because this is what people want to dance to. I know you like that weird stuff some skinny nerd does with power drills and a drum machine…”
“Let’s not malign skinny nerds, here,” he says, and now he really is grinning, one of those rare smiles that, from him, feels like a reward.
The song changes to a fast one. He lets go of my waist, and I feel unmoored by the sudden lack of contact.
But before I can decide if we’re launching into the next dance or taking that as a cue to sit back down, I see Sophie, striding across the floor toward us.
She’s shorter than almost everyone on the dance floor, but people move instinctively out of her way like they would for a charging animal.
I barely have time to process the look of rage on her face before she’s gripping my upper arm, the tips of her nails digging into my flesh.
“I can’t fucking believe you,” she hisses.
All around us, people are backing up, turning to look. My eyes feel like they’re bulging from my head; I’ve seen her mad before, but never like this. Or maybe it’s that it’s never been aimed at me. I try to pull away but she’s holding me too tight.
“What happened?” I ask.
“What did I ever do to you?” she asks. Her hand vanishes from my shoulder. Her eyes are bright, and then there are tears pouring down her cheeks. “Why would you do something like this?”
And then I see that everyone around us is already looking at their phones.
My breath goes shallow. No. No, no, no, it can’t be happening again.
“What happened?” I ask again. My dress doesn’t have pockets; my phone is back at the table.
To our left, Vanessa Whitmore is showing Molly Jun hers, her face pale and shocked. Someone in the crowd starts to laugh loudly. Out of the corner of my eye I see Max, pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket and looking at it.
Sophie stands in front of me, mascara dribbling down her cheeks, and I can’t stand it anymore. “Whatever it is, whatever they’ve posted, it’s not true. You know that,” I say.
Sophie laughs hysterically. “That’s the problem, Iris,” she says. “It is true.”
She hands me her phone.
U/ROCKYTRUTHER2001
A few of you still need convincing that Iris Henley is a psychopath.
Did you know it was her that narced on Lynette sophomore year? She was the one that told the coach Lynette was getting high.
Maybe you didn’t know that. Lynette did, which is why they never talked again after that.
Here are some other things you maybe didn’t know.
Sophie Garcia is the biggest stoner in school. Stood by and let Lynette get kicked off the team without a word—but no way would she pass a pee test.
Hayden O, how many times have you cheated on Carter now? Just kidding I know the answer is four. Better get tested, Big C.
Iris likes to make herself seem like a sweet little victim but she hurts people. She likes it. She tells her friends’ secrets. She ruins their lives. And then she kills them.
Do not trust her.
My vision goes blurry. There’s noise and light all around me, chaotic and swirling.
Voices blend together and I can’t make out what anyone is saying or doing.
I feel a hand on my shoulder and I look up; it’s a girl I don’t even know, gripping me and yelling something down into my face.
I jerk away, but someone else bumps into me, hard.
I stumble into someone who pushes me back forward.
I look around and find Sophie in the crowd again. “Sophie. I … I’m sorry. I never meant for this to…”
From across the room there’s a crash. A buffet table knocked over, punch and cookies flying. Carter standing just behind it all, chest heaving. His face is twisted in pain and rage.
Hayden’s on her knees next to him. Sobbing.
That’s what finally pulls the attention away from me.
Everyone’s shouting now, taking pictures of that other mess instead of me.
Mr. Blanton and Coach Meadows flank Carter, grabbing him by either arm.
Ms. French shouts and points at the door.
Kids flood toward the commotion, even as the teachers try to steer them away.
My eyes lock on Hayden. Her dress is torn. She’s sticky with the bright red punch—it clings to her legs, to her face. She’s saying something over and over. It looks like “Please.”
I can’t stay here. I have to take my moment—before their attention comes back to me. I stagger backward a few steps, then turn and run for the door.