I think about what day it is. “Right. You both have a math class.”
“Yup. It just ended, but she goes to her part-time job right after.” Cinna straightens and pushes her hair behind her ears. “Let’s end this because she’s psychotic and needs to stop.”
We cut across the quad toward the student center. My legs are moving fast, not quite a run, and Cinna matches my pace. Students part around us, aware that we’re ready to plow through them to our destination.
Food court smells hit me as we push through the glass doors: French fries, sizzling meat, coffee. I scan the tables, the counter staff, the clusters of students bent over laptops.
Then I spot her.
Aubrey is weaving through the tables near the far wall, heading toward the smoothie bar where she works. Her dark bob bounces as she walks. Her messenger bag is slung across her body, strap cutting diagonally over her denim jacket.
“Aubrey.”
She turns. Her amber eyes land on me, then Cinna, and surprise shifts to caution in half a second. “Umm… hey?” she says as we approach. “What’s going on?”
“You know exactly what’s going on.” I’m already too loud. A girl at the nearest table looks up from her laptop with her mouth making an O. “You stole my diary and took pictures.”
Aubrey’s eyebrows shoot up. “What?”
“Don’t.” I shove my phone toward her face, the image thread bright on the screen. “This. You didthislike some psycho.”
She leans away from the phone. Her eyes glance at the images and confusion moves across her face, but I don’t trust it. I don’t trust any of her expressions right now. “June, I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn’t steal anything.”
“Stop lying!” My voice cracks across the food court. More heads turn. A guy at the smoothie counter pauses mid-pour. The attention should embarrass me, but my skin is burning from the inside and embarrassment requires a level of self-awareness I no longer have access to.
“We need to go outside,” Aubrey says, glancing at the place she works. “Please.”
I don’t want to go outside because I don’t owe her anything. I want to scream at her right here and make a scene until she admits the truth.
Cinna touches my arm. “She’s right. You don’t need any more rumors about you.”
I grit my teeth and follow Aubrey through the side exit. We end up behind the building on a concrete landing near the loading dock. It’s deserted except for recycling bins and an open door leaking kitchen noise.
Aubrey faces me. “I don’t know who sent you those pics, but it wasn’t me. I swear on?—”
“Who?” I step closer. “Who then?”
She shrinks back. “I-I don’t know. I swear, I wouldn’t?—”
“You’ve had a problem with me for weeks. You’re jealous I got into the exhibition because you think your performance art is so much better than boring painting.”
“No. No! I swear on my life.” She isn’t yelling. Her voice is firm and she’s looking me dead in the eyes. But she does look scared. “I value our friendship. I would never do this to you.”
“Then explain the phone in your luggage! Explain my diary missing! You could’ve had someone take it from my bag. Or you snuck into my house when no one was home because you know where the key is hidden outside.”
“What? No! That’s insane.”
“The burner phone was in your luggage.”
She falls silent, her mouth remaining open. She closes it and shakes her head, looking away.
That’s right. You can’t explain it.
Cinna steps up beside me. “She’s lying. Who else would go this far?”
“Exactly.” The word comes out ragged. “Who else?”
Aubrey looks between us and her entire body sags in defeat. “I’m telling you the truth. I can’t explain anything. But I didn’t do it.”
