The Thrashers(26)

“Hi, are you waiting for me?”

Jodi jumped and turned to the woman who must be Ms. George. She was in her thirties with brown curly hair and large, thick-framed glasses.

She found her voice. “Yes. Jodi Dillon.”

“Oh, Jodi!” Ms. George’s pleased smile brightened as she glanced down the hall where the front door was just closing after a girl with orange sneakers. “Hannah was just talking about you.”

“Excuse me?” Her heart pounded.

“She says you’re her only friend at school so far.” Ms. George winked. “That’s very kind of you to keep an eye on her.”

Jodi simply nodded and waited for Ms. George to step aside before she entered.

“I’m so glad you decided to stop by,” she said.

“I wasn’t aware it was optional.” Jodi’s eyes bugged out when she saw the state of the counselor’s office. Boxes in corners, filing cabinets exploding with paperwork.

“Oh, well, I sent notes to each of you, but you’re the only one who’s come by so far.”

“Each of who?”

“Your friends. The Thr—oh, I suppose you don’t like being lumped together like that. Interesting that you’re named after one person.”

“It wasn’t really our choice. The rest of the school decided on it.”

“Interesting!” Her brown eyes lit up like it was, in fact, interesting. “And how long have they been calling the group of you by that name?”

She gathered some loose pages on her desk, stuffed them into an open folder, and closed it. Jodi saw Mills, Hannah ’28 on the side.

“Was there a reason you called me in?” Jodi said, trying to reroute the conversation. Her stomach twisted as she wondered why Hannah had been talking about her at all.

“I wanted to check in. It’s a lot to handle—the media, your friend’s arrest. Tell me how that’s going.”

Jodi felt Ms. George’s eyes digging under her skin. In all her time at New Helvetia High, she’d never had a counselor check on her like this, and she wondered what the catch was. “It’s been hard,” Jodi said carefully. “Everyone has kind of turned on us.”

Ms. George began what she clearly thought was a comforting speech. Jodi’s eyes glazed over and came to rest just beyond her. On the floor in the corner sat a box, taped shut. Emily Mills was written on the side.

“What’s that?”

Ms. George stopped mid-sentence and turned her head. “Emily’s files. The detectives are coming by today to pick them up.”

A cold chill crept down her spine. “And you’re going to share my file with the police, too, I guess?” Jodi said, voice harsh.

Ms. George’s eyebrows drew together in alarm. “Whoa, whoa. Not at all. Jodi, anything you say in this office is kept confidential, except if you are intending to hurt yourself or others.”

Jodi’s breath quickened. “So you just invite Emily Mills’s accused murderers into your office for a chat on the day the police are swinging by?”

Ms. George leaned forward, bracing her elbows on the desk and lowering her voice. “Jodi, unless I missed something, no one is accusing anyone of murder. I wasn’t aware that you were implicated in any way. I only thought your friend Zack was charged.”

Jodi blinked at her, willing her heart to rest.

She tilted her head. “Does it feel like you’re being accused of murder? Is someone at school making you feel that way?”

Jodi pressed her thumb into her palm. Maybe she was overreacting. But maybe Ms. George didn’t know a fucking thing about this school and Emily Mills. Her eyes glanced at the box in the corner—the box that may contain hard evidence against Zack. Against all of them.

She needed to read that file before it left this office.

Mustering everything Paige had ever taught her about getting out of speeding tickets, Jodi forced her face to crumple and brought a hand to cover her eyes.

“Oh, Jodi…”

She heard Ms. George moving across the office to locate a Kleenex box. Once her back was turned, Jodi drew her phone out of her pocket and, with nimble fingers, opened a new text thread to a contact she hadn’t used in years.

could u get george out of her office? i need 5 min

She hit send, and just before Ms. George turned back around, she added:

this is jodi

“Here, sweetheart.” A Kleenex appeared under her chin, and Jodi slipped her phone between her thigh and the seat.

“It just sucks,” she said, staring down at her hands. “The news says we bullied her to death, and the school believes it, too.”

“I heard that you were friends with Emily. Was there bullying involved?”

Jodi looked up. Ms. George’s head was tilted sympathetically.

“We didn’t bully her,” she said truthfully. “We didn’t really like having her around all the time, but we didn’t go as far as telling her to kill herself.”

Ms. George nodded encouragingly. Jodi was surprised to feel … almost better, saying it out loud. Like a balloon, filled so close to popping, had finally released a hiss of air. She wondered how easy it would be to just open her mouth and let it all fall out—all of her frustrations that her friends didn’t prioritize her, all of her regrets about Emily, all of her love for Zack. But she sniffed into the Kleenex instead and refocused on her task.