22
I can tell the moment our car pulls up in front of the school that this is going to be the Monday morning from hell. “Wow,” Dad says, staring out at the scene.
The first days after Kennedy’s murder, a few reporters from local stations parked outside, trying to get students to comment on the case. Now, there are dozens, many from big-city news stations, all here asking people who don’t even know Bram Abbott to talk about him.
Henry and Adam are staying home, but I send off a quick warning text just to make sure. Don’t come near school today
Of course, Lydia Costas is speaking to a reporter when my dad drops me off at the curb.
“Kennedy was my best friend, so obviously I knew she was seeing Bram Abbott,” she says, “even though she didn’t tell anyone else.
And now that she’s gone, it all makes sense.
He always seemed like the quiet serial killer type. ”
I push myself into the frame, startling Lydia. “Bram Abbott is not a killer,” I spit. “The police need to let him go and find the person who actually did this.”
“What’s your name, hon?” the reporter asks.
“Hayden Phillips, and Bram is my…” I freeze, getting absurdly hung up on Bram’s words from the other night. You and I are not just friends. “Bram is someone I trust with my life,” I say. “And he deserves better than what the cops and everyone at this school are saying about him.”
When the reporter thanks me, I turn to find Lydia eyeing me icily, her arms crossed. “You’re delusional,” she says. “And you’ll probably end up being the next dead girl.”
An unsettling sensation crawls up my spine. Was that a threat?
I should get out of here. I didn’t even want to come today, but the only other option was sitting around at home, worrying about Bram’s arrest.
Last night, Henry called me. And even though I’d promised to be there for him, I couldn’t answer.
I was too upset. He said he’s the reason Bram is in jail, and deep down, I can’t help but agree.
I know he wanted to tell the police it was him on the surveillance video, and I’m the one who stopped him.
At the same time, I resent him for protecting himself, essentially surrendering his brother in the process.
For not being the person I thought he was.
Since I still needed an update on Bram, I called Adam.
He said his parents had returned home and that Mr. Swanson was working tirelessly to get Bram out.
If he fails, they’ll have to wait until his hearing to try getting him out on bail.
With their fortune and his parents’ travel habits, though, Adam said bail wasn’t a guarantee.
The judge could easily label Bram a flight risk.
After I got off the phone with Adam, I sobbed into my pillow. Bram had instructed me to be strong, and so far, I’ve failed miserably. Everything seems hopeless.
I stop at my locker, next to two baby-faced freshmen.
“Bram Abbott isn’t the first serial killer in his family,” one of them whispers to the other.
“His ancestors were poor until they killed the family who used to live in the castle. The Abbotts tortured the family first and then buried the bodies in the gardens. Bram has been using the same torture devices they left behind in the dungeon.”
That’s it. I slam my locker door, startling them both. There’s no way I’m going to last the day. Though it serves Bram right for doing absolutely nothing to quell that dungeon rumor.
Hoisting my backpack on again, I head out the front door where, according to Adam, no one cares much about the camera that will catch me ditching.
The camera crews outside, however, are a different story. I make it all of two steps when someone calls my name. I turn around, pulse pounding in my ears.
“Hey! Where are you going?” Sage scurries after me.
“Nowhere.” My shoe draws a circle over the sidewalk. “I just can’t be here today.”
“Yes, you can,” Sage says, hooking her arm through mine and attempting to guide me back toward the building. “Today is our student council meeting at lunch, and I’m not going to sit there all by myself and listen to Lydia Costas lead it.”
“You’re not going to be all by yourself, Sage,” I say, holding my ground. “The rest of the student council will be there.”
“You know what I mean,” she says with an eye roll.
“You and I are the OGs. No one else will back me up if I need to start a coup to take over the presidency or at the very least, get the homecoming theme changed. Did you hear she wants to make it an underwater theme? What the hell are we supposed to do? Dress as mermaids?”
I cringe. “That does sound horrific.”
“See? That’s why you can’t leave.”
I frown and tug my arm away. I’m not looking for an argument, but half of this mess is Sage’s doing.
“So you want me to help you, when you completely ignored the favor I asked you?” If it weren’t for her, that video of setting off the fire alarm would’ve been for the cops’ eyes only.
Now everyone in town is convinced that they were right about Bram Abbott, “the Girlfriend Killer,” all along.
She sighs. “Look, I’m sorry about Bram. I know you’re close with the Abbotts. And even though I don’t understand why you’re friends with them, I’m sorry that you’re hurting. I guess I’m trying to find a way to make it up to you.”
“By forcing me back in there, where everyone is talking about my friend? Who isn’t even here to defend himself?”
“I’ll tell them to shut up, okay? I may not agree with you on Bram’s innocence, but I am a believer in our justice system. Bram deserves his day in court.”
How noble of her. “Unfortunately,” I say, crossing my arms, “the court of public opinion doesn’t tend to weigh evidence. You’ve always been so sure it was an Abbott. Why?”
“There’s just something off about them,” she says, picking at a pink fingernail. “And Bram was dating my cousin. Sometimes, the simplest answer is right in front of you. It’s always the boyfriend.”
“So much for innocent until proven guilty.”
“The video is proof,” she says.
My chest tightens. “Okay, Sage, I tried. But I want to go.”
“I’ll come with you,” she says, already following me through the parking lot.
“You’re going to ditch school?” I ask, keeping my pace and calling her bluff. Sage doesn’t get Bs, and she certainly doesn’t ditch school.
“I can tell you need a friend right now.”
I wouldn’t call Sage a friend, not anymore.
But seeing as how the Abbotts probably won’t be back in school again, she may be the closest thing I have to one at Silver Creek High.
She admitted something to me at the coffee shop on Saturday—that she’s held a grudge against me, because after Mariana’s death, I chose the Abbotts over her.
Maybe she thinks we can be friends again, now that they’re not here.
I’m not sure I can forgive her, especially if Bram gets convicted for a crime he never committed.
Not that it matters how I feel or what I think, since she’s still following me.
The forested area behind the athletic fields is still a crime scene, so I take the street in front of the school for a while, entering the residential district.
Sage follows. She stays silent, and I’m glad for it, though I get the feeling she’s antsy to say something, or maybe just antsy about ditching.
When a car slows beside us, the driver no doubt eyeing the two of us out on the street during school hours, I duck between two houses and head down the path that winds through the woods.
“So I heard you were defending Bram out there with the reporters,” Sage says, putting an end to the blessed silence. “Pretty wild.”
“I don’t believe he killed Kennedy,” I answer truthfully. I wish I could lay out all the evidence I’ve collected, just to get one person on my side. To convince her that it couldn’t have been Bram. Except I know that the very information that could vindicate Bram could also give him a clear motive.
And it could also point the cops directly to Henry. Instead, I add, “I know Bram can be withdrawn when you don’t know him. But off the football field, he’s not violent. He’s caring and—”
“Oh my god, Hayden,” she says, stopping momentarily to curse when her dress catches on a bramble. “Tell me you’re not in love with that lunatic.”
I start to correct her about the in love part, but my tongue fails me. Because the second her words echo back through my head, I realize they’re true. Somehow, in trying to fight off my feelings for Bram, I only fell harder for him.
“You’ve fallen straight into the Girlfriend Killer’s trap,” Sage says as we press deeper into the woods.
“And here I thought you were obsessed with Henry. You’re always making eyes at each other in class.
Which is also so, completely wrong. Sure, he might look harmless.
Not like Bram, who looks like he’d be happy to slit your throat and drink the blood. But he—”
“That’s disgusting, Sage.” Though I get what she means about Henry, how I was drawn to something about him that was possibly an act. I think I’ve been telling myself I loved him because I believed that he was the safe choice. Harmless. And that Bram was a risk I couldn’t take.
And now, nothing about Henry feels safe. He’s cunning and volatile, and I’m not sure he’s telling the truth about what happened in the woods with Kennedy. And if Henry is lying about Kennedy, who’s to say he didn’t invent that whole story about how Mariana died?
Maybe one of the Abbotts really is a serial killer.
As hard as it is to admit it—even to myself—the person who truly makes me feel safe and secure is Bram. The person I’d call if I were in trouble would be Bram. Of course, I realize all of this now that he’s locked away.
“I’m just saying we’re all a little safer now that that bloodsucker is behind bars,” Sage says, brushing another leaf from her dress.
Irritation gnaws at the base of my skull. “Can we please steer the conversation away from the Abbotts?”