Chapter 12 #2
is standard until Bryce sneaks out of the side exit of the rooftop at Water Street. Asher is across the bar with Sam and I
don’t have time to get his attention, so I tell my friends I’ll be right back and slip out the side door after him. Bryce
takes the fire escape stairs down to the brick alleyway next to the bar and stops to pull out a vape. I’m crouched down on
the landing, watching him, when Asher comes out after me.
“Did he come out here?” he asks.
“Yeah, he’s down there.” I point to the wall that Bryce is leaning on, smoking a vape pen and looking through his phone.
“What an idiot,” Asher says. “Coming down to a dark alleyway in the middle of the night. This is, like, the perfect spot for
a murder.”
“You’re doing too much ‘research,’” I snap at him.
Bryce nods his head at someone who is approaching from the other end.
“Oh shit,” I whisper. “Someone’s here.”
We’re both crouched down on the landing waiting for the person to come into view. I recognize the clacking of the heeled boots
before I see the short, definitely fried, blond hair. It’s Marissa Wilder.
“What the hell?” I say. Asher shushes me. “Do you think she’s cheating on Wes?” I can’t deny the excitement in my voice when
I say it. Asher shushes me a second time.
The two of them stand alone talking too quietly for us to hear, and so close together that I start to think that really is
what’s happening. If Marissa is seeing Bryce behind Wes’s back, that’d be one less obstacle for me. She starts to dig around
in her purse for something before pulling out a folded piece of white paper and handing it to Bryce. I grab Asher’s arm.
“Do you see that?” I whisper. “That folded paper, that’s what my journal page looked like on Marco’s car.”
Marissa Wilder. Marissa fucking Wilder.
Maybe she did find out about me and Wes and wants revenge.
“We don’t know if that’s what it is,” he says back, but I’m already making my way down the fire escape, fueled on adrenaline.
Asher tries to grab onto me but I’m out of reach.
They don’t notice me coming until I’m practically standing in front of them. Marissa snatches back the paper from Bryce when she sees me.
“What are you guys doing out here?” I ask.
Bryce blows out a puff of smoke in my direction. “What’s it to you?”
At the same time Marissa says, “We were just talking,” her tone a bit defensive.
“Oh really? About this?” I grab the paper from Marissa before she has a second to react and start to unfold it, fully preparing
for it to be my handwriting on the inside. But it’s not; it’s a list of what look like answers to a math test. “What the hell?”
I say under my breath.
Marissa snatches it back at the same time Bryce says, “What the fuck, Sloane?”
I realize I made a huge mistake and I’m thankful it’s too dark to see how red my face must be. “I’m sorry, I thought that
was something else. Sorry,” I say again, backing away.
Marissa stands with her arms crossed. “You better not tell anyone, Sloane. If I get in trouble for giving out test answers,
I’ll know it was you.”
First of all, who the fuck passes off test answers behind a bar in the middle of the night? “I won’t tell anyone,” I say.
“Good,” she says with a smirk, “because I don’t think Wesley would be too happy with you if I got expelled.”
I open my mouth to speak but Marissa turns to leave and Bryce follows. I walk back to Asher, who is now waiting at the bottom
of the fire escape, on his phone looking bored.
“I take it you just made a complete ass out of yourself?” he says casually.
“It was test answers, she was giving him test answers,” I say in disbelief.
“Yeah, she sells them,” Asher says. “How do you think Jake passes classes?”
My eyes snap to him. “Why didn’t you say that before I ran down there?!”
“I did make a small attempt at trying to stop you.”
I rub at my temple and take a deep breath. “I’m too paranoid for this. I need a drink.”
“No,” Asher says. “You need to go home. You have to be on your A game tomorrow for the professor.” He turns my shoulders and
starts walking with me from the alley, toward the road.
“What about following Bryce?”
“If anything happens to him, you wouldn’t be a suspect, because we just saw him alive and well with Marissa, and you’re going
home, where your roommate is and will be able to corroborate your alibi if you need it.” I only stare at him, gritting my
teeth. “Bryce will be fine,” he adds.
I cross my arms, thinking about a drink. “You can’t make me leave.”
Asher looks back down at his phone. “Sure I can.”
We stand at the end of the alley on Main Street as a black Honda pulls up. He shuffles me toward the car and opens the door.
I know he’s right, that I don’t need to black out tonight just to give myself a break. But the thought of going home sober
not knowing what will happen to Bryce and not having any type of plan for what I’m going to say to Miles Holland tomorrow
makes a knot form in the pit of my stomach and I almost want to cling to Asher like a lifeline.
“I’ll pick you up for Ivy Gate at ten a.m. tomorrow,” Asher says from outside the car as I step in. I feel my breath shallow in my chest as the panic sets in. I’ll never be able to sleep tonight.
“Wait,” I say from the back seat before he shuts the door. Asher stands there waiting for me to say something. When I don’t,
he catches on.
“Oh, Sawyer,” he says with fake pity. “Are you working up the courage to ask me to come home with you? Here, let me make it
easy for you.” Asher shuts the car door in my face and backs up, giving a small wave before making his way to the front entrance
of the bar.
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter to myself.
I was right: I can’t fall asleep. I stand in front of the corkboard that’s screwed into the wall. If it’s here, I might as
well use it. I print pictures of the deceased, pinning them under the names that Asher added. I tape sticky notes over them
with details of their deaths and if they had a journal page and where it was found. Then I print a picture of Miles Holland
and Ivy Gate and put those on the board, tying a red string from Ryan to Ivy Gate to Miles. I print a picture of a white Jeep,
the kind Miles drives, and add another string from Marco to the Jeep I thought I saw. And just because I’m not completely
convinced, I print a picture of Marissa and add it to the board with question marks. When I step back, it looks like an actual
suspect board. And in the middle, with all lines connected, is my photo.