Page 40 of Good Girls Lie
I settle in. No one speaks.
We are finishing our orange juice when athwacksounds by my left elbow. Our waitron’s back is already turned as she moves away, the delivery made.
I glance down to see the same creamy envelope and steady, artistic hand I was presented with the day of my summons. My heart does a backflip. I reach for it, but quickly realize this time, the envelope bears Camille’s name.
Camille’s.
“It’s for you.”
Camille’s china-blue eyes shine. Hands shaking, she examines the envelope from all angles, cracks open the wax seal, and draws out the note.
Fourth floor. 10:00 p.m.
The same instructions I received. Camille looks up, pupils dilated in pleasure. A small smile plays on her lips. I can practically read her mind.
It is so good to be singled out. This could make me at Goode, like Ash’s audience did for her.
Vanessa, face twisted in anger, snatches the note away.
“Who did you two blow to get in Becca Curtis’s good graces?”
And...we’re back to normal. I shoot down my orange juice and gather my things.
“Shut up, Vanessa. You’re just jealous.”
“You and I are going to have words soon, Ash. Or should I say, Ashlyn?”
One extra syllable and I feel the blood drain from my head. “My name is Ash. I told you before.”
“Oh? Funny. I thought your name was Ashlyn Carr. Daughter of Sylvia and Damien Carr. The late Lady Sylvia and Sir Damien Carr. Or am I mistaken?”
Vanessa’s smile is feral. I fight to keep my breathing steady.
“Wherever did you hear that?”
“Ooh, it’s true, isn’t it?” Piper says. “Does the dean know you’re using a fake name?”
Camille is shaking her head, both hands up. “Stop, you guys. Stop right now. We agreed...”
Everyone is staring at me. All the students in the vicinity have frozen, forks halfway to mouths. They are all listening. They all know. Camille’s words—we agreed—how long have they suspected the truth? Why did they go searching for information?
You should have told them something, given them something.But I didn’t want to lie about this, not with the Honor Code front and center like a matador’s cape.
“Report yourself, or we’ll do it for you,” Vanessa says. She has clearly been planning to drop this bomb at the perfect moment. Now that she has the upper hand, I’m hardly surprised to see her turn the screw.
Panic floods my system, my vision blurs. Adrenaline or tears, I don’t know which, but I’m going to fall apart in a moment if I don’t do something. I can’t stand here in the dining room denying my parentage, thatwouldbe a lie, and if they know the truth, lying about itwillget me into trouble.
How did they find out?
What else do they know?
I think back to Becca’s request for me to hack the dean’s email... Did she find someone else to do it for her? Was Becca looking for information on me, not herself? Oh, bollocks. Great big bloody bollocks.
I bolt. There’s nothing else for me to do. My bag slams against my hip as I run, the sharp edge of my laptop digging into the soft flesh of my thigh with every step. I don’t care about the pain, I just want to get away. It’s too much. I don’t want to do this anymore. Balancing my old life and new is just too hard.
Iknewsomething felt wrong.
The dining room is on the west edge of campus and leads to the arboretum. This is the refuge I seek now. My precious little fairy glen. I’ll hide here, maybe until dark, maybe forever. The trees, rattling in the breeze as their leaves begin to fade, still provide a great deal of cover. Shelter.
