Page 15 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

I slam my fist down on the carpet, sending all of Alexandra’s stuff bouncing. With a flush, I remember I’m supposed to be quiet in here. Pain spreads through my jaw. I’ve had my teeth clenched so tightly, I’m lucky nothing’s cracked.

Does this mean Alexandra isn’t Alex? I don’t know. She could have another phone. One she keeps hidden.

That still leaves me with zero proof that it’s her.

A little spider-crawl of doubt runs through my brain. Maybe there’s nothing to my suspicions. Maybe the only person to blame is the one whose face is reflected back in this stolen phone screen.

Shoving everything aside, I lean against the wall and let my head drop into my hands. I have to return this stupid bag somehow. But I can barely lift a finger to clean up this mess.

“Savannah?”

Panic tears through my chest. I’m caught. I glance up to find Noah Crawford standing over me, stack of books in hand. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I straighten, gathering the items back into the bag.

“Let me help you.” He sets his books down on the carpet.

“No, you really don’t—”

But he’s already crouched beside me, reaching for Alexandra’s phone. He stops, registering the phone in my hand. His eyes flick up to mine, and a wariness I’ve never seen in Noah’s green eyes stings me to the core. He takes everything in—the pile, the bag. “What is all this stuff?”

A text pings on my phone. One I definitely can’t read in front of Noah. Not if it’s an answer from Alex. Sweat beads on my forehead. I cover the screen and tuck the phone into my back pocket as I shift onto my knees. “Noah, please. I can explain.”

His expression now is familiar. It’s the one where his eyes bleed disappointment. I’ve seen it plenty on Piper, too, ever since she found out what I did to Jacey.

“I found this bag here,” I lie. “I was trying to figure out who it belongs to.”

“Oh,” Noah says, an edge of uncertainty to his voice. He grabs the large three-ring binder and flips it open. Then he points to a sheet of half-filled-out graph paper tucked inside the front pocket. “Says it’s Alexandra Martinez’s.”

“You’re a true detective,” I quip, shoving the rest of the stuff inside the bag.

“She’s not in here?” He glances around.

“I don’t think so.” I pretend to sweep the room too. “Oh, you know what? I think she’s in journalism with Piper on Tuesdays.”

“Well, I can return it to her,” Noah says, standing. “I’m on my way out.”

“No,” I blurt in what’s definitely not a library voice. “Sorry, I just…I need to talk to Mr. James anyway. He’s been badgering me about helping with a piece on Piper and how wonderful she is.” This isn’t a lie. “I really should’ve dropped in by now and helped.” My eyes well with tears I’m not faking. “It’s just hard, you know?” That crack in my voice is real too.

“Hey,” Noah says, kneeling again. He puts a hand on my shoulder, and when I look up at him, any trace of disappointment is gone. “You have to do these things in your own time. Don’t let people make you feel bad.”

I nod, even though it isn’t other people who are making me feel bad.

“Sure you don’t want me to drop off the bag?”

“I’m sure. Thanks.”

I sling the bag over my shoulder and make my way back through the library. In the hall, I tug my phone from my pocket, adrenaline pumping. Was that text from Alex?

I read it, and my nerves fizzle. It’s only Grant, echoing the common theme of the week:Where RU?

Seems I’m completely lost.

I forgot he was waiting for me in the parking lot. We were supposed to study together at his house. I know he’s nervous for me. Forus. If I can’t get into Mount Liberty College, who knows where I’ll end up? And long-distance relationships don’t exactly have a great track record.Be there in 10, I text back as I trudge toward Mr. James’s room.

First, I have to return this bag without anyone noticing.

I tiptoe up to the door, holding the bag behind my back. Peeking inside, I search for Alexandra, who’s no longer at Mr. James’s desk. Instead, she and the rest of the journalists are messing around by the whiteboard, taking selfies.

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