The second floor is laid out exactly like the third, and I find Sophia’s room easily. I open the door and peek my head in, half expecting Sophia’s roommate to be inside and pissed that I barged in like this, but I’m greeted by nothing but silence.
I enter the room fully, closing the door behind me. The quiet is like a balm to my frazzled nerves. For the first time today, I don’t need to worry about being watched or judged or whispered about. I close my eyes and force myself to take a deep breath. I exhale in a slow, even stream, like I’m pushing the air through a straw. I do it again, and then once more, before I open my eyes and take stock of my surroundings.
I can tell which side of the room is Sophia’s because ofthe framed photo of her and her parents on the nightstand, but that’s the only personal item in the room. I walk over to the desk on the other side and pull open the drawers to find most of them empty, save for a short stack of worksheets in the bottom drawer. All of them have the same name written in the top left corner.
Isla Vale.
Realization smacks me square in the chest, and I fall heavily onto the edge of the bed, my head spinning. This is—was—Isla’s room. And the stack of school assignments is the only thing that remains of her. There’s no computer, no laptop. The desk is bare, as is the nightstand save for a lamp. The bed is stripped, and the walls are empty. No inspirational quote posters or taped-up photos. Nothing. No wonder Sophia doesn’t want to remain in this room. It’s devoid of personality, of warmth, ofpresence.
Rising to my feet, I go to the closet on Isla’s side and open the door, immobilized at what I see hanging in front of me. Some of her clothes are still inside. Mostly pieces of the Wickham uniform, but I spot a few colorful sweaters that are so Isla-like, tears spring to my eyes.
I should be digging around, looking for information or clues, but raw emotion swells in my chest, making it hard to breathe. I step into the closet and grab hold of the closest sweater, bringing it to my face and breathing deep. It smells like sweet perfume. Expensive. I tug the sweater off the hanger and clutch it. Bury my face in it as I cry. I let her scent surround me, let myself believe for a fraction of a second that this isn’t a remnant of the girl but the girl herself. I imagine I’m embracing the sister I love so much but who isn’t here.The sister I’m afraid I might lose. The sister I ignored when I should have clung tighter, should have cherished and adored the one person in my family who loved me with a pure heart.
What if I fuck everything up? What if I can’t prove what really happened to Emily and Isla on that cliff? I have to save Isla before she’s taken out of reach, before she’s formally charged and the course of her life shifts forever.
I must.
Taking a deep, shuddery breath, I wipe my tear-streaked face with the sleeve of the sweater before I slip it back onto the hanger. I thumb through everything else in the closet, coming to a stop when I see a hideous hoodie that doesn’t fit in with the rest of the clothes. It’s faded black with rips in it, and when I touch the fabric, it’s rough. Feels cheap.
Not Isla’s style at all.
I brush my fingers against the front of the hoodie pocket and go still. There’s something inside. And when I pull it out, my mouth drops open in shock.
A wad of cash is held together by a rubber band. The money is colorful—something I’m not used to seeing, since it’s British pounds. But I can tell that this is a lot of money. Why does Isla have it stashed inside an ugly-ass hoodie? Is it hers? Or does it belong to someone else?
The room door handle rattles, and I shove the money back into the hoodie pocket, practically leaping out of the closet when Sophia enters the room.
“Helloooo,” she sing-songs, going quiet when she sees where I’m standing. We stare at each other in silence, my head spinning to come up with a proper, unsuspicious answer. “What are you doing in there?”
“I’m, uh, freezing. It’s so cold in this building. I was trying to find a coat.” I shrug, glancing down at myself. I’m already in a hoodie and sweatpants, but it’s not necessarily a lie. It’s pretty damn cold in this room. “No such luck, though.”
“Oh.” Sophia’s delicate brows draw together. “That’s not my closet.”
“Shit. Yeah. I don’t know what I was thinking.” I laugh, but the sound is overly fake, and I clamp my lips shut. “Sorry. I just figured if you have a room to yourself, you’d take over both closets. I know that’s what I would do!”
My overly bright voice and equally bright smile feel phony.Calm the hell down, I chastise myself.
“That’s Isla Vale’s side. You know, the girl who’s in a coma.” Sophia’s voice is hushed, her expression solemn.
I mimic her, desperate to contain my own overwhelming emotions. “You were her roommate?”
Sophia nods. “It was hard staying in this room after—the incident. That’s why I’m back at home. I don’t like thinking I could’ve been sleeping next to a murderer. Oh, sorry—allegedmurderer.”
“I don’t blame you.” I glance over at Isla’s bed, my chest tight. I rub at it absently, trying to ease the ache. “Do you think she did it? Killed Emily?”
Sophia is quiet for a moment. Just long enough to make my nerves rise. I didn’t like how she called my sister an alleged murderer, but I can’t hold that against her. Plenty of people think that.
“No,” she finally says. “I can’t imagine Isla killing someone, especially Emily. They were thicker than thieves—real ‘ride or die’ type stuff. Isla hurting Emily doesn’t make any sense.But I have no idea who did it, and being in this room, staying here alone after it happened … I didn’t like it. So I stay out at my parents’ house, and I leave things here just in case I need something quick and don’t want to run back to the estate. A few changes of clothes. A box of tampons. A phone charger. The essentials.”
“Right.” I nod. “That’s smart.”
“I might move back in later in the term, but I’m not really in any rush. It feels so empty now.” Her voice is hollow as she stares at Isla’s bed.
“Maybe the both of us could stay the night here,” I suggest. “Have a little slumber party?” At Sophia’s frown, I forge on. “I just don’t want to be in my room tonight. Not with Abigail there, too. Three’s a crowd, you know?”
“Oh, I do. Abigail and Priya together is … Let’s just say I understand.” Sophia’s smile is gentle. “If you need to stay the night here, you’re more than welcome to.”
“Really?” Relief makes my shoulders sag. “You don’t mind?”
