Page 115 of Good Girls Lie
Vanessa, though...
Which leads me to wonder, how long was the note in my box? While I’ve been down to the mail room several times since Becca tapped me, I haven’t checked my own box in days. Camille has been dead for four days. Was the note placed before Camille died? Or after?
She.
Becca. Camille. The dean.
Sister.
Camille’s sudden suicide.
She is going to expose you.
No. It can’t be.
I’m jumping to conclusions, I know, but I can’t help but think the absolute worst.
I heard my name that night. I’ve forgotten that small but eerie detail. I’d written it off as my imagination which was already in overdrive coupled with drugs and alcohol, but when I entered our dorm room, I thought I heard my name called.
Was it Camille, yelling for help?
Did Becca somehow find out Camille was going to share my secret and kill her to stop the rumors? Did she kill Camille to protect me?
The shirt she gave me had a tear in it. She gave it to me that night. We were apart for at least fifteen minutes. She had time to get up there. If Camille had been stashed away somewhere, it’s entirely possible.
A chill runs through me.
Did Becca push Camille? Was Camille about to expose my past and Becca took care of it for me?
Is she capable of murder?
And then I remember. Becca’s mail. I’ve forgotten to deliver Becca’s mail.
I have to go face her.
I need to think. I need to figure this out.
I have to act like nothing is wrong.
I grab the mail and sprint up the stairs. Becca isn’t in her room, and the relief is overwhelming. I set the mail on her desk and, before I am seen, slip into the stairwell and hurry back downstairs.
The notecard, folded in half, is pinned to my corkboard. It wasn’t there when I left. There is a small bird wrapped in vines etched on the front. The Ivy Bound symbol. Becca was here, I’ve just missed her. Or maybe her minions, the twins, who knows?
I take the card with a shaking hand and move into my room to read it.
9:00 p.m. Commons.Mandatoryfor all.
Mandatoryis underlined three times. Becca has called for a meeting of the Swallows. Why?
Oh, God. Who cares. If I’m in a group, I’ll be safe. She wouldn’t dare hurt me in front of witnesses.
“Ash?”
Piper sticks her head in.
I slide a book over both notes. “What are you doing up here?”
“Same as you, I suspect. Cutting.”
