Page 39 of What Happened on Roslyn Street?
I’ve never felt so misunderstood by Margaux. I look at her now, begging her to see me as I want to be—as I think I am. I’m not here for selfish reasons. All I want is to do right by Poppy.
She has to understand that.
The stare-off lasts too long. Slowly, her posture shifts, her shoulders dropping.
“I know your heart is in the right place.” She cracks a sad smile. “What I don’t know is why I keep getting wrapped up in your schemes.”
I peer at her with hope. “So… you’re wrapped up in this one, too?”
“From the time I met you, you were getting me involved in these things. Trying to investigate the person who forgot to feed the class pet?—”
“It was you.”
“We were in kindergarten.” She carries on. “And in fourth grade, you were trying to prove that Mrs. Millsbury was unfit to teach.”
“Shewas. She had dementia, and her family wasn’t taking care of her! I helped her in the end.”
“But this? This is the most worthwhile thing we can do, even if it requires you being an obnoxiouslittle snoop.” Her jaw flexes. “That is to say, we can call a truce—for now.”
“Really?”
“Yes, but you don’t get to use my friendship so easily. If you want to be my friend again, you have to work for it.”
“Yeah, well… so do you. You have to earn my trust again.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
The truth is, Margaux already won me over—again. She’s helped me more than anyone at Strode, and I don’t take her for granted.
Our friendship won’t go back to normal overnight. I don’t expect it to. For now, I’m happy to have a monster on my side.
Chapter Ten
Margaux and I continue plotting over the upcoming days. We convene shortly after sunset.
“If we’re going to keep scheming, we’re going to do itmyway,” Margaux says under her breath, leading me through the courtyard. “Your way hasnotbeen working.”
She’s been saying that all day, ever since I agreed to let her take the lead. It’s a small act of trust, and it may be what our friendship needs to heal.
Against my better judgment, I agreed to try it, and that’s how I find myself in a matching outfit—all black—with the vampire queen herself. Our truce is feeble, and we still haven’t talked about the lies and mistrust or, more importantly, how losing Poppy turned our lives upside down.
We’re not the same people as when we were friends, even though it was a few months ago. Loss does that to a person. Maybe we can’t overcome that right now, but what we can do is take care of the killer.
Margaux has held up her end of thebargain, helping me out as much as she can. Her way ofhelpingis increasingly stubborn.
I’m willing to try things her way because she’s right—my way isn’t working.
I haven’t texted Caldwell back, and I should have. At the very least, I could have told him I made it safely to my dorm.
Now, it’s beendays, and it feels too late to do anything. He hasn’t texted me again, and Margaux is right. I ruined our only lead already.
For once, it’s Margaux’s idea to snoop. She wants to try things her way, which tends to be less direct, so I oblige—even though it brings me discomfort to lurk in the shadows.
Margaux loves the spotlight more than anyone, but I understand now that she’s equally comfortable in hiding. I never noticed, and it makes me realize how much about her I was oblivious to.
“Quick,” she hisses, ducking into a bush. “Get down!”
