Exposure (9 page)

On Friday morning, news crews circled the gym like vultures, awaiting the memorial service scheduled for three o'clock that afternoon. Kaya and I were crouched inside the senior visual display window in the reception area outside Principal Schaeffer's office hanging the Yup'ik masks when Tiffany and her parents were ushered in by Dottie Hen, Schaeffer's plump and frazzled secretary.

“I'm afraid Principal Schaeffer isn't here at the moment,” she explained breathlessly, “but he said that you should wait in his office.”

“That's fine; we don't need to see him.” Chief Towers had his hand on Tiffany's shoulder. “We just wanted to make sure that Tiffany wasn't penalized for her absences this week.”

“No, certainly not,” said Miss Hen. “We all know what a terrible ordeal this must be for your daughter….”

I stole a glance at Tiffany and the poor girl did look truly miserable. Her face was pallid except for two bright spots on either cheek, and her brown eyes were red and puffy. Between that and the unusually somber black dress she was wearing, she definitely looked like a woman in mourning. All she needed was a veil to complete the picture. Were the widow's weeds really necessary? They'd only been an item for two weeks, max.

“Miss Kingston, hon?” Miss Hen interrupted my train of thought. Damn, had I been thinking aloud? But then she continued, “Why don't you walk Tiffany to her class?”

As she and I walked along the hallway, the echo of Tiffany's heels clattering against the linoleum was the only sound. Just as it was starting to feel really awkward, she broke the silence.

“Did you know Duncan?” she asked softly.

“Only superficially. We sort of moved in different circles.”

“But you were there, right? I saw you with Beth and Craig.”

I nodded, wondering where this was going.

“You know, he wasn't as drunk as everyone is saying,” she said, pushing her thick auburn hair out of her eyes and looking me in the face as if to see my reaction. I didn't really know what to say, but I stopped walking and waited for her to finish.

“He
wasn't
,” she said again. “And he wasn't cheating on me. I know what everyone thinks, but he wouldn't do that. Somebody
has
to know what really happened. There's more to this. There's got to be.”

“Okay,” I said, not sure how to respond.

“He was always honest. That's the one thing you could count on with Duncan.” The word “honest” hung in the air as if it were Duncan himself staring me down, accusing me, haunting me. “He even told me when Beth made a pass at him.”

“You think Beth would really do that?” I said, thinking, not for the first time since that night, that maybe Kristy had been telling the truth after all.

“Yeah, you're not
surprised
are you?” she said with a withering look. Maybe she was smarter than I'd given her credit for.

“Not exactly.”

“Did she tell you about it?”

“No, but it's not like Beth and I are friends or anything … the opposite, actually.” She started walking down the hall again and I followed.

“Even if you were, I doubt it would be something she'd want to advertise….” She trailed off, but I sensed an unspoken question behind her words.

“Well, I'm really sorry about Duncan,” I said lamely as we reached room 113, freshmen English. I wished I could tell her what I knew, but it was hazy, uncertain, and liable to drag me down just as Duncan had been pulled down into the icy current. My self-protective instincts kicked-in, and I walked away from the poor girl feeling as though I had betrayed her confidence. I proceeded back down the hallway feeling more alone than ever and with absolutely no one I could confide in. Not a soul.

When I got back to the office, Kaya and Tess were standing outside the display window whispering conspiratorially.

“Skye,” Kaya said, waving me over.

“What's up?” I said, still distracted by my conversation with Tiffany.

“Mr. Tether just dropped this off for Schaeffer,” she said, showing me the cell phone she'd been hiding behind her back.

“So?” I was in no mood for idle conversation.

“We overheard him tell Dottie that he confiscated it from your boyfriend,” Tess added, as if that explained everything.

“From who?” (Though I knew exactly whom she meant.)

“Apparently your not-so-starving wannabe artist was penalized for unlawful texting during history,” confirmed Kaya.

“What are you doing with it?”

“Hen left it on the counter in plain sight.” Kaya giggled. “We couldn't resist snagging it.”

“We thought you'd want to return it to him,” Tess said proudly, handing me the phone.

“Um, right,” I said, “good idea.” I didn't want to seem totally goody-goody, and it would give me an excuse to talk to Craig, who'd been studiously avoiding me. Now I just had to figure out how to give it to him — a tricky proposition considering we weren't speaking.

• • •

I planned to ambush Craig as he headed from class to the gym for the memorial service. If he saw me coming, he would be sure to head in the other direction, so I'd have to plot our rendezvous with extreme caution. At the very least, I was hoping it would lead to some clarification on the situation. All through next period, I puzzled over what to say and composed endless imaginary scenarios for how things might play out. Unable to concentrate, I finally raised my hand and asked to be excused to use the restroom. When I walked in, Kristy and her friend Emily — a petite junior with dark hair, an upturned nose, and a perpetual pout — were already in the bathroom. They both wore their cheerleading uniforms and sported black armbands. Their makeup bags and beauty paraphernalia were perched precariously on the back of the sink and windowsill. Kristy was pulling Emily's hair into a tight ponytail on the back of her head.

“Skye, long time no see,” Kristy muttered through the bobby pins in her mouth.

“Hey,” I replied, watching her as she pulled the pins out and thrust them in her makeup bag. Just what I needed right now; a conversation with Kristy. I assumed from her tone she and Beth had probably made up already and that I was no longer her new favorite person.

“I see you made it home from the party okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you were riding with Beth. I thought she might have chucked you out the car door at a convenient overpass, or at the very least tried to claw your eyes out.” Okay. Clearly they were still frenemies.

“Any word from Duff?” I asked nonchalantly, changing the subject.

“He texted this morning,” she said. “His parents called and told him about Duncan, and he's devastated that he can't be here right now.”

“They were pretty good friends, right?”

“The best,” she said. “Since kindergarten. Well, until Craig showed up, anyway. After Duff left, Craig stepped in and became Batman's new Robin.”

I pulled out my comb and began running it through my hair, at the same time berating myself for primping. First of all, like Craig would even notice, and secondly, I had never been one to spend hours in front of the mirror trying to be the fairest of them all. It just wasn't my style.

“We're doing a dance routine in memory of Duncan at the memorial service,” Emily said in a confiding tone.

“That's nice, I guess,” I said, thinking it was actually kind of ridiculous, but whatever.

Startled, I noticed that Kristy was looking at me the way a tagger might eye a pristine brick wall. “You know,” she paused and placed her forefinger against the side of her mouth, “you actually have a really decent complexion. You would look seriously fab with a little blush and some lipstick.”

“And mascara. She could really use some mascara,” said Emily.

“No way.” I was emphatic. “You are
not
going to give me a makeover right now.” In fact, the only time I'd ever even worn lipstick was for the party. Of course, Craig did almost kiss me that night. Unless I'd imagined the whole thing.

“No, crazy girl! We don't even begin to have time for that, but how about some lip gloss?” she said.

“Well….” I couldn't believe I was actually considering being one of Kristy's Barbie dolls. Yet I was so preoccupied that I found myself nodding an absentminded assent. Oh well, maybe a few more minutes with her would give me some more information about what had happened at her family's hunting shack.

“Emily, move it!” Kristy said, motioning her away.

“Fine then, I'm outta here,” Emily said as she flounced off, arms folded and her ponytail swinging angrily.

I dropped my messenger bag to the floor as Kristy pulled me over. She searched through her makeup bags carefully, lips pursed in thought, rejecting first one tube, then another.

“Let's try this one,” she said finally, twisting open a tube of gloss. “Hold still.”

“Okay,” I said, trying not to move my lips as I perched in Emily's former spot on the edge of the porcelain sink.

“You know,” Kristy said in a hushed tone, “Craig ought to look out.”

“Huh?” I tried to keep still but gazed at her questioningly.

“Well, Duff's gone — practically banished — and now Duncan … dead.” She pumped the lip-gloss wand back in its tube, giving me a chance to speak up.

“Yeah, so. What does that have to do with Craig?” I felt a cold dread travel up my spine.

“They have something in common. Beth's thrown herself at them all,” she said with a shrug. “It's like a curse or something.”

Now I was thoroughly confused. I thought back to what Tiffany had told me about Beth making a play for Duncan, and now Kristy was acting as if Duff was among her romantic targets, as well. None of this jibed with how possessive Beth was of Craig.

“You can't really think….”

“I'm just saying,” said Kristy, stepping back to admire her work. “It's too bad, that's all. And, of course, it gets Beth a little closer to what she wants.” I hopped off the sink and turned to look at myself in the mirror, where our eyes met. “Convenient for her that Duff and Duncan are both out of the way. Now no one stands between her and Craig becoming Prom King and Queen.” Then she smiled airily. “Aren't you going to get that?” she said.

That's when I noticed a buzzing coming from my messenger bag. I knew my phone was off, so it had to be Craig's.

“Here,” she said, handing me my bag. “You never know, could be important.” I didn't want to explain how and why I was in possession of Craig's phone, so I scrounged around until I found his cell and pulled it out. I immediately saw it was a text from Beth. Before I could stop myself, I clicked on the message:

I gasped and stuffed the phone back in my bag.

“What's up?” Kristy asked.

“Nothing,” I said, hoping she wouldn't notice that my hands were shaking. “My mom just wants me to babysit after school.” Kristy eyed me curiously but didn't say anything. I had to get out of there and go somewhere where I could think. “Thanks for the lip gloss,” I said lamely and backed out of the bathroom.

How could I give the phone back to Craig after this? He'd surely know I read the message. It didn't help that he already suspected I might know something after our recent hallway run-in. Returning it to the principal's office now was out of the question — anyone might read it and put two and two together. Besides, who knew what other incriminating info was buried in his cell? This was all spiraling out of control so fast. What I needed more than anything was time. Time to think. Time to figure this out. In the meantime, I'd have to hide Craig's phone where no one would be able to find it.

Abandoning my plan to bump into Craig, I headed toward the gym with the rest of the students, but all I could think about was the text message. It was already burned into my brain as if I'd read it a hundred times instead of only once. As I squeezed into the gym, I was surprised to see what looked like chaos, rather than the respectful quiet I'd expected. Camera crews stood six or seven people deep on the far end of the gym, while Chief Towers and several police officers roamed the floor. Some of the cheerleaders were practicing their routine in a corner of the basketball court as parents and students looked on from the bleachers. I recognized the mayor, who stood at the podium talking with Principal Schaeffer and Mr. Kirkpatrick.

I headed up the stairs toward Jillian and Megan, who were on the fourth row of risers, but someone grabbed my arm and stopped me. I turned around to face Craig. His eyes had dark shadows under them, and I fought a strong urge to put my hand on his cheek.

“Skye,” he said, still holding my arm. “I'm sorry about the other day.”

“It's okay,” I said, and then it was as if all the noise in the gym had been turned down like the way things sound when you plunge your head under water in the bathtub.

“How are you?” I said.

“Not fine. I don't know.”

“This sounds annoyingly cliché, but still, I really meant what I said. If you ever, like, need anyone to talk to — ” Just then I heard Jillian's voice in my ear.

“Skye! Earth to Skye. Didn't you hear me?” She handed me a camera and took my bookbag. “I need you to cover this. You can use my camera since you obviously didn't bring yours.”

“But….”

“No ‘buts,' Skye, this has to go in the paper and, naturally, we need you to take the photos.”

I looked at Craig, but he just shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

“So what are you waiting for?” Jillian said, pushing me gently toward the basketball court. “Start shooting.”