The bathroom was empty when they arrived, with no sign of Perri.
“See?” Kat said, brushing her hair and then applying lipstick. “Just more Perri drama.”
Josie tried one of the stalls. The door was locked, but when she glanced beneath the door, she didn’t see any feet. The one next to it had an out-of-service sign taped to it. She was moving down the row, to the third and final stall, when Perri came into the bathroom.
This part happened just as Josie had said. Perri locked the door and removed a gun from her knapsack, an orange-and-black JanSport she hadn’t carried all year. And yes, Josie knew what knapsack Perri carried, noticed what she wore, even what she had for lunch as she hunkered in a corner of the cafeteria with Dannon Estes. Her eyes had been following Perri all year, she realized. Perri came in, and she locked the door. This much was true.
But she never pointed the gun at Kat, not on purpose. She held it to her own head.
“I’m going to kill myself, Kat. If you won’t admit what you did, I’m going to kill myself right here in front of you and Josie and leave you to explain it. I’ve decided I’m willing to sacrifice myself rather than let you go on pretending you’re so innocent and pure.”
Kat had tried, for a moment, to keep her back to Perri, to maintain eye contact only with her own reflection. But when Perri placed the gun against her own temple, Kat turned and faced her.
“Perri…” Her voice was-But Josie could not put her finger on what Kat’s voice conveyed. Concern? Yes. Fear? No. Kat was never scared. Perhaps she thought it was a prop gun, stolen from the drama department. The thought had occurred to Josie, too. This was not real. It could not be. Perri was playacting.
“Go ahead. Tell Josie. Tell her how you tried, for once, to concoct your own scheme. You told Seth Raskin to go to the Snyders’ farm. You told him to do something that would scare Binnie, but in an indirect way so no one could ever connect you to it. You took what I said about Binnie having a nervous breakdown and you tried to make it happen.”
“I didn’t. I told you that I had nothing to do with it.”
Perri had been carrying her knapsack over her left shoulder. She put it down now but continued to hold the gun to her temple. “No, I can’t prove anything. Which is why you need to confess once and for all.”
“I never asked them to do anything. Seth asked me why I was upset one day, and I told him. That was all. I didn’t ask him to do anything about it.”
“You never ask anyone for anything. You don’t have to. You never did. Ever since we were kids, people have tried to guess what you wanted and do it before you asked. Everyone thinks it’s such a goddamn privilege, taking care of Kat Hartigan.”
“You’re crazy.”
Josie, almost without noticing, had backed herself against the stall in the corner. She was at once fascinated and repelled, incapable of breaking her gaze, desperate to disappear.
“If crazy is being willing to die for something you believe in, for a principle, then I’m that crazy, Kat. Agree to apologize to Binnie, or I’ll shoot myself, right here. Explain yourself to Binnie-or explain my death to everyone else.”
“I didn’t do anything to Binnie,” Kat said. “Her parents sent her away to spend the summer with relatives after the pigs were killed, so she didn’t take the summer course. But she still got into MIT, with practically a free ride.”
“It’s a good thing she got financial aid, given that those pigs were going to be auctioned for her college fund. Who was the anonymous donor who stepped forward and made restitution for the animals anyway? Your father?”
“Leave my father out of this.” Kat had always been hard to anger, but any mention of her parents brought this edge to her voice.
“Why? Your father’s always inserting himself into your life. Making sure you don’t get zoned into the bad middle school. Practically bribing Mrs. Paulson to change the class-ranking system for your benefit. Mr. Delacorte even offered Binnie an internship last summer, out of the blue, but she turned it down. Mr. Delacorte, your father’s friend, offering Binnie a job that would keep her from going to summer school-was that a coincidence?”
“Shut up,” Kat said. “My dad didn’t do anything.”
“Your dad didn’t do anything. You didn’t do anything. No one in your family ever does anything. Unless it’s noble and visionary, of course. Well, I’m going to do something, Kat. I’m going to pull this trigger and leave you and Josie to answer all the questions. Do you think Josie will take your side now, now that she knows? Let’s see.”
Perri and Kat turned to Josie, who was struck dumb. She did not want to be the referee in this ugly fight. She did not want to believe what Perri said, yet she could see that it explained so much. The Delacortes-Perri had gone to work for them this fall, and it was this fall that she had become so cold and odd toward Kat.
Even as she tried to process all Perri had said, the third stall banged open and Binnie Snyder emerged, face paler than ever, red hair bristling. Had Binnie been there all the time? She must have been, yet Josie had not seen her feet when she checked under the stalls. Binnie had been there waiting for them, part of Perri’s last big production at Glendale High School. Who needed Our Town when you could stage your own drama?
“Stop it,” Binnie screamed at Perri. “This is insane. You didn’t say anything about a gun. You could get us all expelled. You told me that Kat wanted to come here today to confess and apologize. This is stupid.”
She had a cell phone in one hand, which she threw to the tiled floor with such force that its battery pack fell off. The body of the phone skidded on the bathroom’s slick tiles, and Binnie, her long, pale arms windmilling wildly, reached for the gun in Perri’s hand even as Josie thought, but could not find the voice to say, No, Binnie. It’s a game, a play, an act. Don’t, Binnie. Perri is just staging a big moment. It’s probably not even a real gun. Where would Perri get a real gun? No one we know has guns.
Perri tried to hold the gun away from Binnie, but Binnie managed to grab her wrist and then the gun itself, her hand closing over Perri’s as they struggled. Josie could tell that Perri was trying to hold the weapon as far away from her own body as possible, and that was the only reason her arm was pointing straight out, toward Kat, when the gun went off. A second or two passed, seconds in which hope abounded, for Kat looked more puzzled and surprised than anything else. Then she sank to the floor and, in her very Kat-like way-polite, silent, asking for nothing-died.
Was there a scream? If so, whose was it? All Josie could remember was feeling as if her green-and-yellow sandals were made out of concrete, or stuck to the floor with some invisible glue. Just a few feet away, Perri was making odd, strangled moans, quite unlike any sound that Josie had ever heard. Josie knew she should go to her, help her, but she was frozen. Perri pressed the gun against her temple, even as Binnie swatted at it, screaming “No.” But all Binnie achieved was moving the gun a few inches, so the bullet entered closer to Perri’s cheekbone, transforming that dear, sharp face into something horrible.