One of Us Is Lying: Chapters 10–18

The vise that’s been gripping my chest all morning loosens a little.

Maybe you could help me analyze it? Is that part of your retainer?

His eyes search mine as though he’s about to say something profound about life and death and the presumption of innocence.

I take it gingerly. “What is it?”

Everything’s different but it all looks the same. Except Jake and Addy, who’re walking around like they want to kill and die, respectively.

I’m disoriented, like I just got yanked into some shiny video-game version of the world where everything’s too bright and I don’t understand the rules.

He picks up a thin sheaf of stapled-together papers, waving them at me.

“Don’t let that sanctimonious control freak get you down.”

“God, Ash. I did cheat on him, you know. He’s not unprovoked.”

His face changes in an instant from neutral to livid. He yanks his locker open with a scowl and pulls out an armful of books, stuffing them into his backpack.

I got lulled into a false sense of complacency.

Our planning committee is slacking, which would inspire more disdain if I weren’t on it.

Nate yawns, unperturbed.

There’s a steel in his voice that wasn’t there before, and in an instant I feel the energy of the room coalesce and shift.

Even as I say it, though, the mental image of our frail, mousy teacher manically doctoring cups before detention doesn’t ring true.

Lucas’s eyes gleam as he calculates his profit. He’s out the door in a flash, and Nonny settles back against a stack of hospital pillows.
“Off he goes to pad his pockets, bless his mercenary little heart,” she says fondly.

“Things’ll get worse before they get better,” Nonny says placidly. “That’s how it goes. And don’t you worry about the cost. I’m payin’ for it.”

I’d tried to squash the idea because I knew it was catty, but I couldn’t help thinking Ashton had feared losing Charlie right up till the day she married him.

I wonder if I could have done the same—bluffed and brazened my way through this whole nightmare without telling Jake the truth.

“Of course not. Simon was smart. He did it here. Not sure if it was a one-time thing or if he posted from the library all the time, but I saw him one weekend last month when you were running. He didn’t see me. I logged in to the computer after him and got the address from the browser history. I didn’t do anything with it at first,” she says, meeting my incredulous look with a calm gaze.

But Maeve returns waving a small black device with a triumphant flourish, laughing when I yank it from her.

If Vanessa were a guy, somebody would’ve reported her by now for all the unsolicited groping she does.

We don’t talk much at school to avoid—as she says in her lawyer voice—the appearance of collusion.

“Until Proven. It’s that pro bono legal group that started at California Western. Remember, they got that homeless guy who was convicted of murder released because of mishandled DNA evidence that led them to the real killer?”

He spent years as an anchor with one of the major networks, and brings a certain gravitas to the proceedings.

For almost two weeks I’ve been questioned and scrutinized, whispered about and judged.

Mikhail examines Addy’s beauty pageant past, speaks with baseball analysts about the prevalence of high school juicing and its potential impact on Cooper’s career, and digs through the particulars of Nate’s drug bust and probation sentence.

“I know. That’s logistically challenging, though. Especially now that we’re notorious.”

Simon had never written about me before, but I don’t like the implication.

“At Luis’s party the last night of junior year. Simon was following me around all night and I was sick of it. Nate showed up and I figured, what the hell. He’s hot, right? Even if he is a total degenerate.”

Bronwyn and I are pariahs—other than her friends, her sister, and Janae, hardly anyone talks to us.

But she glances gamely at my phone. “It’s a good picture of him, I guess.”

I hate Vanessa. Hate how she’s mean-girled her way into the center of my former group and how she’s glommed on to Jake like they’re a couple. Even though I don’t see much interest on his part.

I glower at the tray in front of me. “That’s a rude thing to say.”

Marshall’s Peak—which isn’t really a peak, more of a rocky outcropping overlooking the woods we cut through on our way out of school—is Bayview’s so-called scenic area.

His mother is talking, staring at him with ravenous eyes, but I can’t hear anything she’s saying.

But let me do a little PSA for one new (and fleeting, I’m gonna guess) arrival to the social scene: MR, who doesn’t seem to realize SC is out of her league.

I stay still in my chair and try to keep my face impassive.

I remember all the impotent rage I’d felt, that Simon was so casually cruel, just because he could be.

"No." Robin’s voice cracks like a velvet whip, soft but unyielding.