“You pretend you’re so much better than the rest of us,” Alexis shouts. “But you’re a slut. Every word out of your mouth is a lie.”
“Like anyone would believe you after what you’ve done,” Riley spits out.
Grace hiccups again. She’s crouched in the alcove next to the door, hugging the backpack. The attic is small—maybe only ten feet long and five feet wide—but because of the angle of the ceiling and walls I can’t see what she’s doing. Still, she’s the only one between me and the door. She’d catch me before I made it to the stairs.
“I’d believe her,” Brooklyn says. A strand of hair falls over her eyes. She blows at it, and it flutters back over her forehead. “Whatever happened to coming clean before the Lord, Riley?”
Alexis laughs and shakes her head so violently her neck cracks. “Why are we even here? Because Brooklyn screwed around with your boyfriend, right?”
“Shut up.” Riley’s voice trembles.
“But that’s not really true, is it?” Alexis says. “Because he’s not your boyfriend. Not anymore. He dumped you two weeks ago.”
“I told you to shut up!” Riley screams. Her hands fly to her head, covering her ears.
“And you know what the best part is?” Alexis yells back. “He dumped you because you’re a slut. He found out what you did with Tom. Why don’t you tell that to your precious God, Riley?”
Riley squeezes her eyes shut, shaking her head. I hadn’t been paying attention, but now I turn toward Riley.
“Tom?” I repeat. “Wait, Josh’s brother Tom? The one Grace . . .”
Grace steps out of the alcove. “What did you do with him?” she asks, her voice cracking.
Riley’s red-rimmed eyes widen. “Grace, I . . .”
Grace drops the backpack and steps forward, grabbing Riley’s arm. “I’ve had a crush on Tom since I moved here!” she says, but I’m no longer listening. All I see is the backpack abandoned in the alcove.
“I know,” Riley says. “But . . .”
“Did you sleep with him?” Grace interrupts. Riley hesitates, and Grace yells, “Tell the truth!”
“It was just one time. It didn’t mean anything!” Riley says. She turns back to Alexis. “You bitch. That was a secret.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Alexis hisses. “We’re all sharing our secrets. You don’t get to judge me if you’re not willing to own up to yours.”
Riley shouts something back at Alexis and their voices grow louder, until they’re both screaming at each other and I can’t make out what they’re actually saying. Brooklyn kicks my ankle lightly with her combat boot, and I look over at her. Pills, she mouths, nodding at the backpack.
Grace buries her face in her hands. I creep behind her, sliding into the alcove, where I’m hidden from everyone but Brooklyn. Star-shaped Christmas lights hang from the ceiling above me, and Riley pinned three dead butterflies into the wood with tiny pink pushpins. Their tissue-thin wings look brittle enough to break.
My sneaker brushes up against the bag and I crouch down, pulling it onto my lap. Grace lifts the bottle of wine to her lips again and again, trying to drown all the things she just heard with booze. As long as she doesn’t turn around, I’m safe.
I unzip the backpack and thrust my hand inside, digging for the pill bottle. Riley’s and Alexis’s shadows stretch over the floor. If either of them takes a single step to the left they’ll see right into the alcove. My fingers bump up against the wooden cross, but that’s it—there’s nothing else inside the backpack. Frustrated, I rip open the front pocket.
“I came here to help you, you ungrateful bitch!” Alexis yells. “But now I don’t know why I bothered. You obviously don’t care about anyone but yourself.”
Alexis’s footsteps pound against the floor. I glance up as she steps directly in front of the alcove. Shit. I drop the backpack and stand, but her back is to me. I don’t think she saw anything.
“Alexis, don’t,” Riley says. Over Grace’s shoulder I watch Riley grab Alexis’s arm, dragging her back to the center of the room. My heart thuds against my chest. Grace takes another swig of wine, watching the fight unfold like it is a movie.
“You leave when I tell you to leave,” Riley says. Her fingers grip Alexis’s arm so tightly her skin starts to turn red.
Alexis tries to yank her arm away. “Let go,” she says. But Riley holds on tight.
Heart hammering against my chest, I kneel and pull the backpack to my side. I grope against the fabric inside until my fingers enclose a plastic cylinder. I pull it out and quickly turn it in my hand to see the label.
AMBIEN, it reads. My heart thuds against my rib cage. This is it. This is finally it.
A floorboard creaks. A chill streaks down my spine, and I look up. Grace’s dark eyes are turned toward me, watching me.
Time freezes. My mind moves at hyper-speed, trying to come up with some excuse, some reason to be digging through the bag for the pills. But I can’t think of a single reason, and all I can do is wait for Grace to call out to the others and tell them what I’m doing.
Grace considers me for a moment. Then she lifts a finger to her mouth, shooting a look over her shoulder at Riley and Alexis. Neither has noticed us. Yet.
Satisfied they aren’t watching, Grace sets the wine bottle on the floor next to me, then turns back around, as if she didn’t see me with the pills at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY
I ease the bottle open and pour the pills into my hand. Ten white pills tumble onto my palm. I don’t know anything about drugs, but ten seems like a lot—definitely enough to take out a teenage girl. I pry open one of the capsules and dump the fine white powder into the wine bottle.
Riley’s jeans scratch against the floor as she paces around the room. Grace is angled in front of me to keep Riley from seeing what I’m doing, but I still freeze, certain I’m about to be discovered. The powder from the pills sticks to my fingers and the mouth of the bottle. I swear under my breath and try to brush it all into the wine.
“I thought you two were so close,” Brooklyn says, her voice dripping with fake sympathy. If either Alexis or Riley notices she’s making fun of them, they don’t show it. They only seem to see each other.
“You were always a shitty friend,” Alexis yells, her voice cracking. She wraps a long blond strand of hair around one finger and gives it a sudden, violent tug. “The only reason we even hang out is because you can’t stand to be alone.”
“I think you have that backward, Lexie.” Riley’s voice is quiet and even, barely above a whisper. Alexis stands in the middle of the attic while Riley moves around her, an animal circling her prey. “The only reason we’re friends is because you need someone to obsess over. You’ve been pretending to be me since you were eight years old. I just can’t get rid of you.”
The quieter Riley speaks, the more outraged Alexis grows. “Why not? Because God wouldn’t want you to?” Alexis shouts. “You hide behind God so no one will see how screwed up you really are.”
“I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve done,” Riley continues, rounding back on Alexis. “But you have everything to be ashamed of. You tried to kill your sister! How can any of us ever trust you again?”
Alexis’s breathing gets heavier, and she starts to cry. Grace stiffens in front of me. Alexis must’ve pulled another clump of hair out of her head, but I refuse to look up and watch her. My fingers feel thick and clumsy as I work them around the pills.
“You’re wrong,” Alexis says.
“Am I?” Riley’s voice takes on a cruel, almost gleeful edge. I recognize that tone by now—it means she knows something the rest of us don’t.