Chapter Twenty
CHAPTER TWENTY
People here flock to gossip like flies to shit. As soon as something fresh comes along, they swarm. The whispers don’t stop in the dining hall. Over the weekend they spread like a plague across campus.
The next time I leave my room isn’t until Sunday. Just a couple minutes to grab the package Tiffany sent me from the campus mail room. I keep my head down and hood up, but still, the voices follow. Hushed whispers and pointed fingers whenever I make the mistake of meeting someone’s eye. I pull the hood tighter around my face as I wait for the mail room attendant to find my package, a group of girls on the other side of the room giggling to themselves as they look at me like I’m a one woman show.
“Did you hear she punched Hunter in the face?”
“I heard she was shit-faced.”
“I heard she was tripping.”
“I heard she did it because he tried to break up with her.”
A thousand “I heard”s because no one wants to dig any deeper. It doesn’t matter that no one saw what really happened between us—that I’m not even sure because my memory of that night still feels like I’m watching it from underwater. People here don’t care about the truth. They only care about what keeps them entertained.
I didn’t realize how invisible I was until I’m suddenly in the spotlight. People only care about me when Hunter has me glued to his side. And maybe that’s what Solina wanted, why she got herself mixed up with people like him. But I’d much rather be no one than someone like this. Where everyone thinks they’re entitled to your story.
My stomach churns uncomfortably as I tap my foot and wait for the slow-as-a-goddamn-sloth attendant to come back. Yesterday, after Claudia headed to rehearsal, I grabbed enough bagels, packets of peanut butter, and bananas to not need to leave our room until Monday. After what happened Friday night, I’m not about to risk wandering around campus without a plan. Thankfully, I’m used to ignoring my hunger.
After what feels like an eternity, I grab my package and book it back to Kincaid, moving so fast I nearly slip on a patch of ice on the stone path, my calves aching by the time I make it up the three flights of stairs.
True to everything Solina said about her, Claudia spends the entire weekend rehearsing. Other than sitting with her at breakfast, the only glimpses I’ve caught of her are when she stumbled into our room just past midnight last night and when she left this morning close to seven. I unpack the hastily taped-up box and pull out the set of cameras and a note from Tiffany.
Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.
Technically, Tiffany is absolutely the type of person to use hidden cameras to spy on someone. So, no rules broken.
I triple-check that neither of the two other girls on our floor are lingering in the communal bathroom before making my way over to Izzy and Laura’s room. Without any concrete leads, I need to focus on learning as much as I can. Who Solina was here. Why she lied about her apprenticeship. Why she wanted to leave. Getting Claudia to open up will take time, and there’s no telling whether Poppy and Gabe will cough up information that’ll help me. Not when they could easily be the people who killed Solina in the first place.
There’s not much for me to work with, so I have no choice but to focus on the little I do have. Solina’s file. The Post-it in Izzy’s. Reach out about SF incident. Izzy knows something. Something that could be the key to cracking this wide open. I can’t walk away from the chance to talk to her without putting up a fight.
Calling her hasn’t worked. Claudia said she’d be back to collect the rest of her stuff at some point. I’ll just make sure I’m here to catch her when she does.
Hiding a camera in a nearly empty room isn’t easy, but there’s enough for me to work with. I settle the camera behind a desk lamp on the right side of the room, carefully tucking the power cord out of view along the back of the desk. To be safe, I move the stack of boxes Izzy left behind to the opposite end of the room, where the camera is completely hidden from most angles.
With the camera in place, I suck in a grounding breath before hitting call on the number I found in Izzy’s file in Charlisa’s office. Again, it goes straight to voicemail. No one our age answers calls from strangers. I hold my breath as the automated recording plays, my chest tight when it finally gets to the beep.
“Hi, Ms. Tucker,” I say in my most professional voice. It’s rustier than I’d hoped. Last time I used it was when I helped talk down our landlord when we were two weeks late on the rent. People always say I’m grown beyond my years. Hopefully I sound it too.
“It’s come to our attention that you left some personal items behind in your room. We have a new transfer student coming in later this month, so we’ll need the room completely vacated by the end of the week. Otherwise, we’ll have maintenance dispose of your belongings. Have a great day!” I finish with my widest, most shit-eating grin, before ending the call.
The more time I spend here, the longer I’m in danger. I don’t have time to wait around for Izzy to turn up looking for her things. Hopefully, a little nudge is all it’ll take to get her to show. I look over at the desk lamp, checking that I can’t see the camera from my place beside Izzy’s boxes, and open the camera’s app on my phone. Switch on the Movement Alert notification.
When she comes back, I’ll be the first to know.