15. June #2
She’s right. The thought of Carter getting a version of this message makes me sick.
Who knows if the person behind the attacks is posting the text on social media or gossiping.
Carter could hear it from a stranger, from one of his Hargrove teammates.
As in, “Hey man, is it true about you and your cousin?” He’s a positive guy, but he’s still vulnerable to humiliation.
And he’d worry about me, because that’s what Carter does.
He’d carry it quietly, never bring it up, and I’d never know it was eating him alive.
I scroll to his contact and press call.
“Hey, cuz.” Carter’s voice is warm and easy. I can hear a TV in the background and the creak of what’s probably the old recliner in our basement.
“Hey.” I swallow. “Quick question. Have you gotten any weird texts from a number you don’t recognize? Like, anonymous?”
He laughs. It’s a short, unbothered laugh. “What, you think someone’s gonna start spreading rumors about me? I don’t even attend Alaria. Well, only audit courses.”
“I’m serious.”
The laugh fades. He must hear the worry in my voice because his tone shifts, dropping into the lower register. “I haven’t gotten anything. What’s going on?”
I open my mouth and close it. How do I say this? How do I tell my cousin that someone is implying we’re… ugh, I can’t even think it.
“I’ll send you a screenshot,” I say. As I send it to him, Cinna’s hand presses against my back. I lean into it.
“Got it,” Carter says. “One sec.”
The silence on the other end lasts five seconds.
“What the hell? That’s disgusting,” he says. His voice is firm, and I almost never hear him sound like that. “That’s absolutely disgusting. You’re my family. You’re my sister.”
“I know.”
“Who the hell would write that? Who would even think it?”
“I don’t know. But they seem to know about our family, so this is getting more and more personal.”
He’s quiet again, and I can hear him breathing, the way he breathes when he’s forcing himself not to react. Again, a rare thing from him because he’s almost never quick-tempered.
“Okay, listen to me. Anyone who knows us and has spent five minutes in our house, knows that’s the most ridiculous lie they could come up with. You’re my little cousin. I watched you eat glue in second grade. There is nothing romantic there and there never has been. Anyone with eyes can see that.”
I stop walking and close my eyes, letting Cinna’s hand hold me steady. “I know. I just needed you to hear it from me before it gets around.”
“It won’t get around because it’s insane. And if anyone asks, I’ll set them straight so fast they’ll wish they’d kept their mouth shut.” A pause. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not. But that’s okay because you will be. Don’t let some coward with a burner phone mess with that.”
“I won’t.”
“Love you, cuz.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up. My hand is still shaking, but the fist in my stomach has loosened.
Cinna waits until I lower the phone. Then she steps closer, her expression leaving no room for discussion. “It’s Vienna,” she says.
“Stop. We don’t know that.”
“Yes, we do.” Her voice is the firmest I’ve ever heard it.
Just like Carter, Cinna is warmth and gentle observations, but right now she’s completely steel.
“It makes too much sense. She practically told you it was someone you know. She’s been circling your life like she’s studying you.
And there’s something I haven’t told you yet. ”
I wait.
“At the Hargrove party last weekend, people were saying Vienna was there with Carter.” She pauses for emphasis. “Like, flirting with him. Like, they were really touchy. Someone said they left together.”
My stomach drops. “What?”
“I was there but didn’t see it myself, but multiple people mentioned it to me later. Think about it. She’s getting close to Carter. Maybe he, I don’t know, did something to upset her after the party and she’s taking revenge.”
I hate to think the worst of Vienna, but what Cinna is saying makes sense. Part of me wants to believe it because believing would mean I have an answer finally. But…
“Why would she tell me to my face that it’s someone I know?” I ask. “If she’s doing it, why basically announce herself?”
“Mind games. She’s trying to make you think it can’t be her because she’s being so obvious about it. It’s reverse psychology. She’s smart enough to pull that off.”
I think about my general conversations with Vienna. The backhanded compliments. Those eyes that look like they’re calculating.
“We’re going to find her,” Cinna says. She grabs my arm and hurries us toward campus. “Come on. We’re going to confront the bitch because I’m fed up with this bullying.”
Her anger is so fierce that it pulls me forward and I don’t resist. The fury in my own body wants a destination, and Cinna is offering one, and right now that’s enough.
We cross through the main gates and onto the cobblestone paths.
I know Vienna has a seminar in the Legacy Wing on Friday afternoons.
It should be letting out in ten minutes.
We walk fast, cutting through the courtyard where the fountain is running, past Whitmore Hall where Bean There’s warm light pours through the windows, and toward the east end of campus where the Legacy Wing sits with blank walls and multiple entrances.
We wait on the stone steps outside. Cinna paces while I lean against the wall, almost crushing my coffee with my fist. Students filter out of the building in pairs and small clusters, and each time the door opens I feel my pulse spike and then drop from false alarms.
Finally, Vienna walks out.
She’s talking to another girl, her phone in one hand and a leather portfolio under her arm, and she doesn’t see us until Cinna steps directly into her path.
“We need to talk,” Cinna says with her perfected hands on the hips bitch-I-mean-business pose.
Vienna stops. Her eyes dart from Cinna to me, and I’m sure her brain is already three moves ahead. “About what?” she says.
“About the texts.” I step forward. “About the anonymous account targeting people in the exhibition.”
Vienna’s eyebrows rise. The girl she was walking with takes a step back, sensing the temperature. Vienna waves her off with a flick of her fingers, then turns back to us. “You think I’m the one sending those messages?”
I get up in her face. “You told me it was someone I know. You told me the person holding the knife is standing close enough to get me. And now I’m getting texts about…
personal stuff. Really personal stuff that I told you about.
” I’m not one for confrontation, so my knees start to shake.
I swallow and keep going. “So yeah, Vienna. I think you have some explaining to do.”
For a long second, she doesn’t move. Her expression is frozen in neutrality. Then her chin lifts, and beneath the poise and the red lipstick, she looks wounded. Actually wounded.
“If I had a problem with you, you’d be the first to know.
Because I’d say it to your face.” She leans in, our faces about six inches apart.
There’s a tremor underneath her words that makes me feel like crying.
Completely wounded. “I’m not a cyberbully, and I’m not someone who hides behind fake numbers and anonymous accounts.
If I were ever a bully, I wouldn’t hide myself.
That’s not how I operate and you know it. ”
“Then explain what you said at the food trucks,” Cinna fires back. “Because it sounded like you were taunting her.”
Vienna’s eyes cut to Cinna and her expression hardens.
“I was trying to help because I hear things and I pay attention. I told June to be careful because the vibe I’ve been getting from people in her circle felt off.
That’s it.” She looks back at me. “But sure. Stand here and accuse me of terrorizing you. That’s a great use of everyone’s time. ”
“You were at the Hargrove party with Carter,” I say.
Vienna steps away and looks like she’s done with this conversation, but that wounded look is still there.
“I talked to Carter because he’s cute and because I was bored.
That’s called socializing. You think I’d actually spend my weekend, what, digging for things to hurt you with?
Please. Stop being so conceited. The world—my world—doesn’t revolve around you. ”
She turns and walks away, leaving me with the knife of her words sticking out of my heart.
Cinna starts to go after her, so I grab her sleeve.
“Don’t.”
“She’s lying.”
“Maybe.” My voice is quieter now. The fury has burned down to ashes. “Or maybe she isn’t. I don’t know. But that felt real. She looked hurt and now I feel awful.”
Cinna is breathing hard through her nose, staring at Vienna as she gets further and further away. I can tell Cinna doesn’t agree, but she drops it for now.
We stand on the steps as the last students trickle out of the building. The afternoon light has changed from warm gold to a cooler silver that drains the color from the cobblestones. Everything looks flatter.
“If it’s not Vienna,” Cinna says carefully, “then there’s only one other person who makes sense.”
I look at her, an ache creeping into my skull behind my eyes.
“Aubrey,” she says.
I open my mouth to dismiss it, but the dismissal won’t come.