One week later
OLAF PULLED THE CAR INTO THE BISHOP DUMAINE FACULTY parking lot Sunday morning, and shifted into park, allowing the engine to idle.
“All right, darlings,” Mrs. Deringer said in her bell-like voice. “I believe this is your stop?”
Bree leaned forward from the backseat. “You’re just going to Sacramento, right? No last-minute itinerary changes to Marseilles?”
“Villefranche-sur-Mer,” her mom corrected with a wink. “And besides, if I was going back to France, don’t you think I’d have more luggage?”
Bree turned to the back of the SUV, where a dozen bags were piled so high there was no way Olaf could see out the rear window.
“That’s no moon,” John said, under his breath. “That’s a space station.”
“Olaf and I will be back in three days,” her mom continued. Then, in a rare moment of parental responsibility, she peered around the headrest at John and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at him. “And no sleepovers while we’re gone.”
“Yes, ma’am,” John said with a salute.
She shifted her gaze to Bree. “Or I’ll have Brendan Callahan put that thing back on your ankle.”
“Mom,” Bree said. “What happens then? After you and Dad talk?” She had to know. She’d been trying not to get excited over the last week, hoping rather than believing that her mom would stay in California. But if things went badly during this mini-reunion between her parents, would her mom flee to Europe again?
“Bree,” her mom said softly. “Rome wasn’t built in a day. But I promise I’ll be back Tuesday night and then . . .” She took a deep breath. “And then we’ll play it by ear, okay?”
“Okay,” Bree said. She felt John’s hand creep around her back and give her a tight squeeze. “Do me a favor, though?”
Her mom sighed dramatically. “Another favor? I’ve already busted your friends out of jail, convinced your dad to lift your house arrest, and found a darling little rent-free guest house for your friend Tina.”
“Tammi,” Bree corrected.
Bree’s mom waved her hand. “Same thing. What else could you possibly need from me?”
Bree smiled. “Tell Dad I miss him.”
“Ah,” her mom said slowly. “Yes. Now hurry up. You’re going to miss your friend’s game.”
Olivia’s mom was still confused. “You have a friend on the volleyball team?” she asked for the billionth time.
“Yep,” Olivia said simply. Not worth trying to explain the whole situation. She looped her arm through her mom’s as they climbed into the bleachers. “One of my best friends, in fact.”
“Oh.”
“Mrs. Hayes!” Peanut stood up in her seat a few rows above them, and waved at Olivia and her mom. “I saved seats for you guys.”
Olivia led her mom halfway up the bleachers, then slid into the row next to Peanut. As she sat down, she noticed the smiling face of Theo at Peanut’s side. His hand lay on the bench next to Peanut’s with their pinky fingers pressed up against each other.
Didn’t see that one coming.
“Hi, Olivia!” Theo said. She’d never seen him so happy. “Is this your mom?”
“June Hayes,” her mom said, stretching out her hand to Theo. “I’m a bartender.”
“And a fabulous actress,” Olivia added.
“Cool!” Theo said. “To both.”
A whistle blared and the players began to trickle out of the locker room onto the court. Theo jumped to his feet. “That’s my cue,” he said. “I’ll catch you after the game?”
“I’ll be here,” Peanut said. Olivia noticed that Peanut’s eyes followed Theo all the way down to the court. She didn’t even notice Kyle sitting with Tyler and a few other members of the now-disbanded ’Maine Men on the other side of the gym.
Olivia considered asking Peanut about Theo, but judging by the deep blush that had spread from Peanut’s chest to her face, she decided that was a conversation better left for private. Instead, she scanned the bleachers. “It’s packed in here today.”
“Bishop DuMaine versus Gunn,” Peanut said. “Should be an offensive battle.”
Olivia looked at her friend sidelong. “Since when have you been interested in girls’ volleyball?”
Peanut’s blush deepened. “Since, um, last week.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Olivia craned her head and scanned the bleachers behind her. She was looking for Margot or Bree, but didn’t see either of them in the crowd. As she was searching, her eyes landed on a familiar face.
Amber Stevens, sitting by herself.
“I’ll be right back,” Olivia said, excusing herself from the row. Before her mom or Peanut could ask why, Olivia hurried up the stairs.
“Hey,” she said, taking a seat next to Amber.
“Hey.”
So much had happened between them. Too much. Olivia didn’t even know where to begin the healing process of their friendship, wasn’t sure she even wanted someone like Amber in her circle. And yet Logan had taken something from Amber as well. Rex may have been an unholy douche, but Amber had loved him. Olivia couldn’t ignore the fact that she was hurting.
“You here by yourself?” Olivia asked.
Amber shrugged. “Yeah. I didn’t have anything else to do. And I didn’t want to be home.”
It might have been the most honest moment of their friendship.
“Come on,” she said, tugging Amber’s arm. “Come sit with us.”
She half-expected Amber to protest, put up a front, and act like she didn’t need Olivia’s charity, but instead, she bit her lip. “I’m not sure I’m welcome.”
“Amber,” Olivia said with a smile. “You’re always welcome.”
Kitty stood in the center of her teammates, Mika by her side, and stared at each of them in turn. She stomped her foot once, then clapped her hands, stomped twice and clapped again.
“How do you feel?” she cried at the top of her lungs, continuing the rhythmic stomping and clapping.
The team mimicked her movements and responded in unison. “Fired up!”
“I said, how do you feel?”
“Fired up!” they replied, even louder.
“But how do you feel?”
“FIRED UP!”
“I’m ready.”
“Set!”
“You’re ready.”
“Set!”
“She’s ready.”
“Set!”
“We’re ready.”
“Set!”
Then Kitty pumped her fist in the air to the beat. “Ready! Ready! Ready! Ready!”
The whole team crouched low, shifting their weight back and forth from left to right, and clapped rapidly together. “Set! Set! Set! Set! Go Dukes!”
The team high-fived one another, fully pumped up for the game, and headed to the bench for their final assignments from Coach Miles. As Kitty left the court, she caught sight of Barbara Ann jogging out of the locker room.
She was suited up and ready to play, her long blond hair was swept up into a tight ponytail with a white headband across her forehead, and her knee pads dangled from one hand.
Barbara Ann paused when she saw Kitty, the look on her face a mix of anger and confusion. She shook her head, casting her emotion aside, then gave Kitty a slow nod.
Kitty smiled and nodded back. It wasn’t thanks, it wasn’t forgiveness, but at least Kitty knew that Barbara Ann now had a chance at a collegiate future.
As Kitty stood there smiling to herself, she saw Donté waving at her from the sidelines.
She jogged over to him. “Hey!”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I never get tired of watching you do that.”
“Do what?” Kitty asked.
Donté smiled, his bright eyes twinkling with mischief. “That little booty shake during the warm-up.” He spun around and did an exaggerated imitation of Kitty’s pregame dance moves.
Kitty snorted. “If I looked like that, I really doubt you’d have asked me out in the first place.”
Donté laughed, and pulled her to him for another embrace. “Kitty Wei, I’d have asked you out no matter what.”
Margot climbed to the last row of the bleachers at the Bishop DuMaine gym and wrapped her arms around her waist. Had it really only been a week since she’d last been here?
One week. The world had changed in one week.
Margot smiled to herself, mirthlessly. The world had changed in an instant, she’d just taken a week to get used to it.
A whistle blew from the gym floor, and Margot took her seat as the game began. She didn’t really care who claimed victory in the match, although her allegiance would always be to Kitty. In the end, both teams had gotten a significant amount of attention from college scouts, which meant that they’d both won.
Margot’s eyes strayed to the opposite side of the bleachers, where Olivia sat between her mom and Amber Stevens. Even Amber deserved a second chance, Margot supposed. She could probably forgive Amber for what she’d done, but there was no way she’d ever forget.
Ten rows in front of them sat Bree and John, literally entwined. She snuggled into the crook of his shoulder, her face resting blissfully against his chest while John stroked her back with his free hand.
Margot sighed. She remembered the way she had felt when Logan embraced her. The safety. The protection. She’d wanted to stay in his arms forever.
The pain of Logan’s betrayal had dulled, the grief ebbed, and now all Margot felt was an overwhelming sense of loneliness. She’d been stoic about her self-isolation in the past, but Logan had been a taste of forbidden fruit that she wouldn’t soon forget. Sure, he was a sociopathic serial killer, but he loved her, and more importantly, he’d made her feel as if she was worth being loved.
Margot took a deep breath and slowly exhaled through her nose. She just had to remind herself that she would be fine on her own. She had friends, she had support, she’d even earned the respect of her parents in a way she’d never believed was possible. She could live without love.
Because she had a goal now. Margot’s hand strayed to her bare arm. No longer obscured by an oversize sweatshirt, the scars of Margot’s suicide attempt were open to the world. Never again would she hide them. Never again would she live in shame of the pain and hopelessness she’d felt that day. She’d go forward displaying them proudly. Because she’d overcome that day, and lived to be a stronger person. And if her story of struggle could prevent just one person from taking the same drastic steps, it had all been worth it.
“Hey, bacon, what’s shakin’?”
Ed the Head plopped down on the bench next to her. Margot had been so wrapped up in her own thoughts, she hadn’t even noticed him sidling across the row toward her.
“Edward,” she said with a nod of her head.
Ed winced as he pulled a small notebook from his back pocket. A near-fatal bullet wound to his stomach hadn’t been enough to keep him from the biggest school sporting event of the season. “So I’ve got six-to-one odds on Kitty and Bishop DuMaine.” He inclined his head. “Care to place a wager?”
“That’s illogical,” Margot said. “Should be fifteen to one.”
Ed whistled. “You think?”
“The Lady Dukes have a renewed sense of school spirit,” Margot began, laying out the reasoning behind her statistics. “The murderer has been caught, the police presence was removed from campus, Father Uberti officially dissolved the ’Maine Men, and students have returned to normal high school life. Haven’t you noticed the rah-rah attitude around here this week?”
“The little lady has a point.” He let his notebook fall to his lap and leaned closer to her, dropping his glibness for a moment. “And how are you doing?”
Margot glanced at him sidelong. It was a loaded question and he knew it. “Logan’s facing life in prison,” she said coolly, “and the police decided my actions in the boiler room were in self-defense. I suppose that’s a win-win.”
“I see.” Ed leaned back, propping his elbows up on the bench behind them. “So I know your boyfriend tried to kill me and all,” he said with his trademark smirk. “But do you think you could find it in your heart to be my business partner? Clearly, surgery has muddled my brain.”
Margot shook her head. She had to give it to Ed—despite all he’d been through, he still maintained his sense of humor.
“You have to answer me one question first,” she said.
“Just one?”
Margot nodded.
“Hit me.”
Margot cleared her throat. “I get that you found out that Sergeant Callahan was Christopher’s cousin.”
“Don’t you want to know how?” Ed asked eagerly. “It was a pretty awesome prank I pulled at the Beemans’ house and—”
“I get,” Margot said, interrupting him, “that you withheld that information from DGM because you thought you were protecting me.”
Ed’s gaze faltered but he didn’t say a word.
“And I even get that you doctored the carbon copy of the speeding ticket from October first to the seventh to give yourself an alibi.”
“If you hadn’t been in a coma,” he said, smiling wickedly, “you’d have seen through that ruse right away.”
“But what I don’t get,” Margot continued, “is how after months of investigation, you never found out about Amber Stevens’s summer at Camp Shred.”
Ed cringed and grabbed his stomach. “Ouch. That hurt worse than getting shot.”
Margot smiled. “So in light of your questionable skills, if we work together, I want sixty percent.”
A look of horror passed over Ed’s face. “Forty.”
Margot arched an eyebrow. “Surely you can do better than that,” she said playfully.
Ed rubbed his chin vigorously as if waging an internal debate. “Fine,” he said at last. “Fifty-fifty split. But this is going to require long hours working together. Do you think you can handle it?”
Margot turned to Ed. His face was all smiles, but his eyes held a sadness that she alone understood. “Yeah,” she said. “I can handle that just fine.”
DGM
