Page 81 of The Inmate
I loved Mia’s voice. I would give anything to hear it again. We used to talk on the phone for hours, and even though it took a little getting used to, I never had trouble understanding her. But she used to garble her words—especially when she was nervous or excited—one syllable slurring into another.
Natalie came up with a particularly nasty way to make fun of Mia. They shared a math class together, and every time Mia would answer a question, Natalie and her best friend Tara Wilkes would mimic the answer in that same slurred voice. Low enough that the teacher couldn’t hear it, but everyone around them could.
It gave other kids ideas. It started happening in all her classes. And when Mia complained about it, the teachers wouldn’t do anything.Natalie and Tara would never do anything like that, they would say.
After a couple of months of this torture, Mia stopped raising her hand in class.
We mostly communicated on the phone because I was long-distance, but it was hard not to notice the change in her personality. Mia had always been a strong person—stronger than me. She was the one who told me not to let myself cry in front of anyone else. But Natalie and the other girlsbrokeher. I could hear the pain in her voice.
Hang in there,I told her.High school is almost over.
I know,she said.Believe me, I’m trying. I won’t let Natalie win.
I didn’t know what to do. I thought about calling Mia’s parents to let them know what was going on, although she would have hated that. I even went so far as to type an email to Mia’s brother, hoping he might be able to do more than I could. But in the end, I believed Mia would get through it. It was, after all, more than halfway through senior year. Soon, she’d be in college and would leave all of this behind.
Then there was the Valentine’s Day incident.
For as long as I knew Mia, she had a crush on a boy named George. We went to school with him since kindergarten, and she used to fantasize about marrying him someday, even though she laughed when she talked about it. George was a nice kid, as far as I could tell. He wasn’t particularly handsome or popular or athletic, although he wasn’t an outcast like we were. He never laughed at Mia or made fun of her. He said hi to her in the hallway. He was kind.
In the days leading up to February 14, Mia received a series of notes from George. She read them to me on the phone. They were exactly the sort of sweet notes that I would have expected from George, and I was so happy for her. It felt like things were finally turning around for my best friend. Even though I desperately wanted a boyfriend of my own, which seemed like an impossibility, I wasn’t jealous. I only wanted Mia to be happy.
It wasn’t until Valentine’s Day arrived that Mia approached George when she saw him carrying a red rose. She thought the rose was for her, but it was for some other girl that he had a crush on. He was never interested in Mia—not now, not ever. The notes were all from Natalie and Tara, playing a joke on her—George had no idea about any of it. Natalie masterminded the whole thing. And while George tried to be nice about it, he made it painfully clear he had zero romantic feelings for Mia and never would.
Two days later, Mia took her own life.
She took a bunch of pills, then slit her wrists in the bathroom. By the time her parents found her, she was already gone. They called me that night to break the news to me. I loved her as much as they did. I would never have another friend like Mia.
Mia was gone. And it was all Natalie’s fault.
I wanted vengeance. I tried to convince Mia’s parents to do something—press charges against Natalie. But there was no evidence Natalie did anything wrong. It was Natalie’s word against a dead girl, and everyone loved Natalie. Mia’s parents just wanted to forget about it.Let her rest in peace, Dawn.
I couldn’t though. I was too angry. My hatred for Natalie Farrell burned inside of me. I watched as she went off to college and dated the hottest guys and made a zillion new friends and did all the things that Mia would never do. Because ofher.
There was nothing I could do about it. Nobody cared except me. Even Mia’s own parents were willing to let it go.
And then one day I found somebody who hated Natalie as much as I did. Someone who blamed her for killing Mia the same way I did. Who wasn’t willing to let it go as easily as her parents were.
Caleb.
Mia’s brother.
ChapterForty-Eight
NATALIE
Since I’ve been arrested,I am entitled to have an attorney provided for me. The smart thing to do would be to hire a lawyer of my own, but I am incredibly short on funds right now, and whatever I do have, I’d like to save it to bail myself out. So I consent to use the freebie lawyer.
Right now, I’m supposed to be having a meeting with my lawyer. They have led me into one of the interrogation rooms lit by an overly bright bulb right over my head, and I’ve been sitting in an uncomfortable plastic chair for the last forty-five minutes waiting for an attorney named Archibald Ferguson that I’m increasingly certain will never show up. If only I had money to pay for my own lawyer. But I am pretty sure the constitution or something says that I have a right to an attorney. They can’t just say they gave me one and wash their hands of it.
Finally, the door to the interrogation room swings open, but my heart sinks when I see that it’s just some teenager. Probably a high school intern working at the police department, dressed in one of his father’s oversized suits. But I may as well make the best of it.
“Could I have some water?” I ask the intern. “My throat is really parched. And do you think you can ask them how much longer till my lawyer shows up?”
The boy clears his throat. “Actually, I’m your lawyer.”
I stare up at the kid, all thoughts of my parched throat flying out of my head. This has got to be some kind of joke. This is achild. He doesn’t even look like he’s old enough to grow facial hair. How could he be alawyer? How could he bemylawyer?
“What?” I sputter.
