Eventually, everything connects
Itake a quick shower and get ready; the sky transitions from deep orange to dark blue as I walk to the heart of campus. I’ve spent the day reliving everything that’s happened. Willow Reads, the video, Oliver, then finding out it was all a lie, built on jealousy and a fucked-up need to hurt me.
Trashing his car was about letting out the rage.
I knew he wouldn’t care about it. That’s why I signed him up for every “save the puppy” site I could find, plus a paid “God is my savior” email chain.
Adding his email, phone number, and school account so he could never escape them gave me great satisfaction.
Now I feel a mix of relief and annoyance.
I’m still mad he went there in the first place.
When I arrive at the center of campus, students are already here, gathering around the black tent, handing out candles. I head over to Roxy, who is scowling at the scene, her dress matching her short black hair.
A podium stands next to a large photo of Amelia. I gaze at the sight for a long moment. Soft golden-brown waves drape over her shoulders. She isn't wearing her glasses like she did when we first met. This photo is recent, with pearls around her neck and an expensive outfit on.
I don’t know the girl in the photo. I knew the Amelia who got lost during freshman orientation.
Who went to our first college party together and got wasted, then slept in my twin-sized bed with me.
She wanted out of the life her parents deemed suitable, but didn’t know how.
That only lasted one semester. When she returned from winter break, she was different.
I tried for weeks to get her to open up, but as soon as she became friends with Jade, I was forgotten overnight.
The quiet bookworm was suddenly a socialite dating rugby player Leo Zanders.
She believed she was untouchable, which made her cruel.
It was as if she were still proving to herself that she had made it.
“Fix your face; you look pissed,” I whisper to Roxy.
“It’s a whole spectacle.” Her mouth flattens.
“She did die,” I point out, gazing over the rapidly growing crowd. Roxy’s eyes flick to the photo and then away.
“Were you guys ever friends?” Callan asks, walking up, handing me an unlit candle. Oliver stands at his side, hands tucked in his slacks.
“Once. But I don’t know that girl.” I gesture to the photo. “Where’s Vee?” I scan the crowd of black coats and solemn expressions. Callan points to the front. Amelia’s parents sit next to Jade and Molly. Vienna says something to her mother. It’s the first time I've seen any of them since the news.
“Did she give her statement?”
“Yes.” I look toward Oliver, who just answered. “I went with her.” Seeing him drags everything I buried yesterday back to the surface. I feel my cheeks get hot as I look away. Maybe I’m not over it after all.
“A first responding officer said it looked like she fell, but not everyone is sure. They’re waiting for the toxicology report,” Callan adds.
“Let’s go find seats.” I shouldn’t be here. The people who cared for Amelia and knew her should be grieving. I feel like a fraud.
“I’ll see you after,” Oliver says, looking right at me. My heart drops. He’s going to sit up at the front?
“What the fuck?” Roxy mutters, reading my mind. He said he doesn’t like them, yet he’s going up there. I ignore him and head for the last row. Now is not the time.
“Lyra.” He tries to grab my hand, but I pull it out of his grasp.
“Don’t Lyra me.” I look him dead in the eyes. His jaw tics, but he won’t make a scene, not here. Not with everyone around watching us, just like I won’t.
My thoughts are spiraling in a chaotic tangle I can’t decipher.
He put his hands on Amelia, threatened her, and is going up there to shake hands with her parents and play the part.
Oliver says pretty words, but his actions scream louder.
I thought. Well…I'm not sure what I thought. The joke is on me.
“He’s keeping up the act. Can’t draw attention to himself, not now. It would look weird if all of a sudden, he were ignoring them when a supposed friend just died.” I know Callan is right.
If he only knew that this is not all I had a problem with right now. No, the lying, secrecy, and puppet strings being pulled are just the cherry on top.
“Sure.”
Callan leans into me, his voice quiet yet steady. “He’s playing the game, Lyra. That’s all this is.” A game I never volunteered to play or be a part of. Well, Oliver, I don’t like fucking games.
“Hey, guys…” Vienna’s voice sounds far away, muffled beneath the rush of blood in my ears as I watch Oliver make his way to the front. He shakes Amelia’s father’s hand before pulling her mom into a hug. He moves to Leo next, clasping the back of his neck for a brief second, and my chest tightens.
He doesn’t know about Leo. He doesn’t know.
Jade wraps herself around his waist, burying her face in his chest like she’s auditioning for a soap opera. His hand settles against her spine, and something inside me turns cold.
“Is that part of the game too?” I bite the inside of my lip hard enough to taste blood. “I’m not staying.”
I set the candle on my seat and stand.
“Bless you,” Roxy mutters, slapping her thighs as she rises too.
“Agreed,” Vienna says.
“Guys,” Callan starts.
“Do you really want to stay?” I turn to a seated Callan.
He exhales. “No.”
“Exactly. Then let’s go.” We slip away before it even begins. My skin itches, crawling with the weight of pretending to mourn someone I despise.
“We can go to our place, eat our weight in ice cream, and watch movies,” Vienna says.
I remind myself that I don’t have to feel guilty for not being here. Once, Amelia was the one to knock me over the side of the head. The only difference is that I didn’t die. I fought and clawed my way out of the fucked-up nightmare they put me in.
We pass the edge of the standing crowd when I spot a familiar face hidden in shadow. I slow before calling out to Vee, Roxy, and Callan. “Hey, wait for me by the car. I'll meet you there.”
Roxy frowns, confused, before I motion my head over to where Blaine stands, hands tucked in his slacks.
“Hey.” I stop beside him, both of us staring at the vigil instead of each other. “I’m sorry for your loss.”
He lets out a breath that almost sounds like a laugh. “No, you’re not.”
I turn toward him. “Blaine.”
“Lyra, it’s okay.” He grabs my hand, squeezing it once.
“I don’t know everything, and since no one is talking, I’ll have to live with regret and questions.
” His jaw tightens. “I've seen how they’ve treated you since the start of the semester. All of them.” He rubs a hand over his sharp jaw.
“Their comments and manipulation. It's something I don't want any part of, and I just wish I…” His shoulders sag before he pulls me into his arms for a hug.
His breath hits my ear as he whispers, “I wish I were the one you called and told everything to.”
Heat burns my eyes, but I won’t cry now. Not like this. I wrap my hands around his back before stepping out of his hold. “Don’t carry that,” I say quietly.
He nods once. “I’m starting to understand just how fucked up they are.”
“I should go,” I point behind me. “I don’t feel right being here.”
“Yeah.” He steps back, giving me space.
When I walk away this time, it doesn’t hurt as much. If anything, it feels a little bit like closure.
We hide in Callan and Vees’ apartment the rest of the night. When I finally fall asleep, my mind flashes with everything I've worked so hard to leave buried. And that night, I get yet another text from an unknown number.
Unknown:
Maybe he will kill you too…less for me to do.
But I wish that were all. An image of me waits front and center. A masked figure over my body, his hands around my throat. Black X’s cover my eyes, the message unmistakable.
Me:
Fuck off.
Then I block the number once again.