Nika had seen the show too. It was about the patriarchy, not about teen girls fighting among themselves, but this wasn’t the time to correct Jessica.
“I should. I will.” She put the pink dress back in the wardrobe, too distracted to think about clothes. “So what will we do?”
“We’ll think of something,” Jessica said darkly.
• • •
But now, two hours later, and on her way home, she still hasn’t settled on a plan. Jessica had wanted to go online again. Fake some diary entries in Maeve’s handwriting, stuff that would be way, way worse than her crush on Ariana (because, for god’s sake, let’s face it, Jessica said, everyone had a crush on Ariana at some point). Nika is nervous of the online route though. There’s always a way to track people down, as far as she knows, through IP addresses and so on. She’d asked Jessica if she wanted to set up the anonymous account this time, but she didn’t, it needed to come from Nika, to get “closure” Jessica had said.
There has to be a way to get at her, Nika thinks now, as she speeds through Oakpark. But there has to be a way she can do it without getting caught. That’s when she sees the figure ahead. Someone walking along the path by the green. She squints. Someone in a distinctive Ed Hardy hoodie, lit up now as she walks under a streetlight. It couldn’t be, could it? It is. It’s her. This is too much. Maeve Khoury. Out walking as though everything is fine. As though she hasn’t just tried to kill Nika. Getting away with it, no consequences. Thinking she’s untouchable because her aunts are teachers. Thinking she’s great. Nika’s not thinking she’s great. Nika’s not thinking at all when she jams her foot down on the accelerator. The car revs and speeds forward. She turns the wheel without a plan, fueled by adrenaline and white-hot rage. The car mounts the footpath just as Maeve turns her face to see what’s coming. And then Maeve is gone, knocked to the ground. Motionless. And Nika keeps driving.
90
Jon
Last week
“I’m sorry, Savannah, but I can’t let you do that.”
Jon put Savannah’s car keys in his pocket, his heart hammering in his chest. He absolutely couldn’t allow her to turn up at his house and tell Susan what’s been going on. His marriage would be over. Susan would take Bella. How had he got himself into this? Before he could figure out next steps, Savannah lunged forward, reaching for the keys from his pocket. He grabbed her wrist to stop her and it took a moment to register what she was saying.
“Jon, stop! You’re hurting me!”
He unwrapped his fingers from her wrist and, with a jolt, took in the angry red imprints he’d left on her skin. The rose-gold bracelet slid down her forearm, the inscription mocking him.
“Shit. Sorry. Savannah, I didn’t mean to hurt you…”
“Then give me my fucking keys,” she hissed.
He held up his hands and stepped backward. “Look, can we talk first?” He swallowed.
“No. Susan deserves to know what kind of prick she’s married to.”
How could he get out of this?Think, Jon, think.
“We’re pretty much separated.”
“Oh sure. How convenient.” Savannah rolls her eyes.
“Honestly, we sleep in separate rooms most of the time, we both see other people. We’re just keeping up appearances.”
“Jon, I didn’t come down in the last shower. This is an attempt to save your own skin. My god, I thought we were getting serious.” She glanced over at her wedding photo. “I’d even started to think you were theone. I can’t believe you’ve done this to me.”
“Savannah…” He stepped toward her again.
“No! You’ve hurt me. You’vehumiliatedme. And I’m not going down lightly. Fuck you.” She reached again for the keys in his pocket and he jumped back.
“What are you going to do, Jon, stay here for ever holding my keys? I’ll get a cab, you fuckwit. I’ll walk. Whatever.” She turned to move toward the doorway to the hall and Jon reached for her arm. She shook him off. “And I’m calling the police, by the way. You can’t just take my keys, you’ll be done for attempted car theft.”
“Savannah—”
His phone interrupted him, buzzing on Savannah’s kitchen table. He craned to see the screen. Greta. What did Greta want?
“Let me guess, your wife.” Savannah stood in the doorway, arms folded. “Well, aren’t you going to pick up? Since you’re supposedly separated and she won’t mind that you’re here?”
As his brain whirred ahead, trying to come up with a plan, he answered the call.
“Jon, listen,” Greta said, without any greeting, “I was thinking we should scale down the plan for Susan’s surprise party, in light of her message about Celeste last night. We’d need to take Juliette Sullivan off the guest list; she’s good friends with Celeste. And there’s a few others to consider…Anyway, look, I’ve just left your house. I told her to switch off her phone,but it’s a bit of a shitshow overall, and since Susan doesn’t know about the party anyway, I wonder should we just cancel?”
