She scoffs. “That’s the problem, we can’t trust you.”
Dani was still scrolling through comments. “They’re calling you murder slut.”
I put my head in my hands. “That’s not even creative.”
“This one says the Pembroke Psycho,” she continues.
“I think I like murder slut better.”
“So what are you going to do, then, murder slut?” Dani asks.
“I’m going to let the police handle it now.”
“And they really don’t think it’s you at all?” Annica asks.
“They might, but they don’t have enough evidence to arrest mefor it.” No one says anything else as we all sip our coffees in awkward silence. “So am I forgiven?” I try.
“For keeping two giant lies from us?” Annica says. “Not really.”
“But we’ll work on it,” Dani says. “Right, Annica? You said you would.” Dani nudges her.
Annica shakes her off. “I said that about the Wes thing. This is a whole other thing. There’s been nothing but lies coming out of your mouth since last summer. It’s going to be pretty hard to trust you now. And would you have even told us about any of this had you not been caught? Twice?”
She has a point. Because no, I wouldn’t have. “I’m sorry! Okay, I will make it up to you guys. I would’ve said something when the dust settled. You have to believe that I kept it from you because I thought that’s what was best.”
“Hm, well, I know one way you could start to make it up,” Annica says. “You can let me read your short story.”
“Fine, deal.” What’s the harm of it now that she knows about Wes? Plus this semester is when draft editing starts and I’m pretty sure by the end of it the whole class reads your story anyway. It is a small price to pay to have her back on my side.
“Friends again?” Dani says with a smile.
Annica rolls her eyes. “Yes, friends. Kind of.”
“Friends,” I repeat, holding up my mug as the other two clink theirs to mine.
Asher doesn’t stay over the next two days, and I don’t ask him to. Grange comes by on Wednesday to get a detailed account of the assault, which in the end starts to sound more like we assaulted Miles, not the other way around. I’m sure if Grange hasseen Holland’s face, he’d agree. I wonder if they called in Asher for questioning about any of this.
By Thursday I find myself standing on the boys’ porch at dusk. The bare trees stand black against the gray sky like wavering skeletons, their branches creaking in the wind like bones. I knock on the front door, waiting for Asher to open it. But he doesn’t; Wesley does.
“Sloane.” He smiles, and it’s warm in the bitter cold of winter. It almost knocks the breath from me to see him again, and I wonder how he managed to drift from my mind for even a moment, let alone a month.
“Wes, hey, you’re back already.” I smile, stepping inside.
“Yeah.” He takes my coat. “I actually came back early to talk to you. Come upstairs. I want to show you something.” I remember what Dani said about him and Marissa breaking up, and I wonder if that’s what this is about. I wonder if he’s seen the videos she’s been making about me.
“Okay.” I follow him up and see the attic door to Asher’s room open a crack with the light on. I can talk to him after this.
When I walk into Wesley’s room I almost don’t recognize it. Large sheets of paper cover his bedroom walls. Some are photos of the beach house, and each room inside of it, next to a large, printed floor plan, all drawn on with pen and marker.
“You’ve redecorated,” I say, looking around.
“Isn’t it great?” Wes walks around. “I’m putting together the plans for the house, and a business proposal for my dad. I’m going to show him soon. I’m almost done. I worked on it all break.”
“Wow.”
“Margot’s Bed-and-Breakfast.” He smiles. “Named after my grandma.”
I give him a close-lipped smile and click my tongue. “That’s really sweet, Wes.”
