“I’m sorry,” I said, “I’m sorry.” I shook my head, and then I said it. “Look,” I said, “can I ask you—do you think there’s any chance that what happened to Bri wasn’t an accident?”
All at once Greer got very, very still. “What do you mean?” she asked. “Like she overdosed onpurpose? No, Linden. She wouldn’t have—I mean, she wasn’t, like depressed, or—”
“No no no,” I clarified. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“Like, was there something wrong with her drugs, maybe,” I posited, though at this point I was pretty sure the pills had just been a decoy. “Or was she, you know. Like. Suffocated.”
“What?”Greer gaped at me. “Are you deranged?”
“I don’t know,” I told her honestly. “I just—”
“Wouldn’t the police have been able to tell?”
“I don’t think the police are looking,” I said. “Do you think the police are looking?”
“I mean, no?” Greer said. “I don’t think so? I don’t think there was any reason to—I have no idea! And I also have no idea why you’re being such a weirdo right now. Like, what are you even—”
“The whole thing just seems strange, is all.”
“Itisstrange!” Greer exploded. “My whole life is strange rightnow! Bri was my best friend, Linden, and she’sdead.I don’t get to talk to her before we fall asleep at night or get ready together to go out or have her bring me a snack from the dining hall if I don’t feel like going myself. She’s justgone.She’s not, like, a brain teaser for you and your weird friend to work out.”
“No, of course not,” I said. “I just—”
Greer put her hands to her cheeks, like that painting of the guy screaming; her braid was unraveling a little, her dark hair starting to frizz around her face. “Look,” she interrupted. “I heard about that thing on the Vineyard a couple summers ago, with Jasper’s family. I know you had like, a friend involved. Was that Holiday too?”
I hesitated, but there was no point in trying to lie. “I mean, yeah, but—”
“Okay.” Greer cut me off, her whole body straightening with barely contained anger. “I don’t know if you guys think you’re a couple of crack amateur PIs now or what, but this is real life, do you understand that? You weren’t there when Bri’s parents showed up. You didn’t have to watch while they carried her stuff out crying. You haven’t had to walk around campus for the last few weeks knowing that the first thing anyone thinks when they see you isOh, there’s that girl whose roommate OD’d in herfucking bed.”
“No no no,” I said quickly. “I know, and I don’t mean to—I’m not trying to—” I broke off. “Greer, I’m just trying to protect you.”
“Protectme?” Greer’s eyes narrowed. “From what?”
“Holiday and I—” I sighed, scrubbing a hand through my hair and knowing that there was absolutely no way this was about to improve the conversation. The second half of the game hadstarted, I could hear it: the shriek of a whistle, the hollering of the crowd. “We think it’s possible that Bri wasn’t the real, um. Target.”
“Target?”Greer laughed, but a little hysterically, the sound of it brittle as shale. “Oh, my god. Oh, mygod.Is that why you were asking my suitemates all those weird questions about Hunter wanting to hurt me?”
“It wasn’t—I mean—” I winced, although what had I expected, really? Of course they’d reported that back to her. “Hunter is probably in the clear, actually, for what it’s worth. He was with Noelle from the sixth floor at the time Bri was—” I stopped short, not wanting to say it. “He was with Noelle from the sixth floor.”
Greer shook her head, looking at me like she’d never seen me before. Looking like she had no idea what to do with me at all. “I’ve gotta go,” she announced suddenly. “I’ve got like a hundred pages of reading for tomorrow that I haven’t even started. I don’t even know why I came to this stupid game. College sportsshouldbe illegal, actually. Your creepy friend Holiday is right.”
“Greer—”
But Greer wasn’t listening. “Maybe we’ve been moving too fast,” she said, backing away slowly, like I was the dangerous one; a sliver of sunlight slipped through the bleachers, just catching the side of her face. “Everything has been so out of control, andI’vefelt so out of control….” She trailed off. “Let’s just talk after the break, okay?”
That stopped me. “But wait,” I said, “what about Maine?” We were still supposed to spend Thanksgiving weekend up at Margot’s family camp near Camden; the plan was for Greer to go home to Connecticut for the actual holiday, then pick me up in Bostonon Friday afternoon. When I’d told my mom about it she hadn’t fought me, but the expression on her face was the one she got when she was actively trying not to react to something, and later that night when I was looking at Instagram, I saw that she’d reposted a poem about birds flying south for the winter that made me feel kind of like a dick.
Now, though, Greer hesitated. “I don’t know, Linden,” she said, not quite looking at me. “I think maybe it’s better if we just take the long weekend to cool off.”
I felt my heart drop into my stomach. “I’m cool,” I promised quickly. “Greer. Hey. I’m cool.”
But Greer shook her head. “I’ll text you when I’m back, okay? Have a good Thanksgiving.”
She’d turned and disappeared into the crowd before I could reply.
I stayed there for a long moment, head dropped back and hands shoved into my pockets. How the hell had I managed to bungle that so badly? I was just about to run after her, to tell her I had no idea what I was talking about, to beg her to forgive me, when all at once I froze where I was standing, realizing in a cold flash of clarity where I’d seen Greer’s cousin Emily before: she was the girl who’d held the front door for me as she was stomping out of Hemlock House the day Greer and I had gone to Castle Island.
