The Thrashers(51)
Relief swam in her. “Thank you, Mrs. Mills. I won’t move anything, I swear.”
She waved her hand and sniffed. “That’s fine. I’m making a pork roast for dinner, if you’d like to stay. We’d love to have you.”
Jodi would rather throw herself out the window. “That’s very kind. I’ll check with my dad.”
Smiling, Maureen turned, slipped down the hallway, and down the stairs. Jodi stood in Emily’s room, waiting an appropriate amount of time. She’d pretend to lose control of her emotions and say she needed to visit the bathroom to get ahold of herself.
As she waited, she wondered if there was anything in this room worth looking at. The police would have done a full search, taking any electronics, any notebooks. Jodi’s eyes passed over the desk. Just behind the small table lamp, a picture was taped to the wall. She moved closer.
It was the same fabricated picture that had flashed on the screens at the vigil—the picture of Jodi from Tahoe edited together with a smiling Emily. Maybe Emily had been the one to Photoshop it.
Pressing her thumbs under her eyes to make them red, Jodi snuck out of Emily’s room and toward the bathroom. When no one stopped her, she slipped inside and closed the door, turning the lock.
A strange sensation swept over her skin, sinking down, down into her blood. Jodi stared at the bathtub against the far wall. It had a showerhead attached to the tiles on the right, a small window above the tub facing the street.
She jumped into action, desperate to locate the phone and stop imagining a body in the tub, pink prom dress pouring over the sides. Opening the cabinets under the sink, she pressed against the boards, hoping one would pop and reveal a separate space. No luck. She closed the toilet seat and balanced on top, stretching to look into a vent at the ceiling. Her fingernails couldn’t quite get the screws to turn, but the flashlight on her phone didn’t show anything hiding inside.
Standing on the toilet seat, she stopped to survey the bathroom. She placed her hands on her hips and wondered, where would I hide something?
There were no other cabinets, no other vents, no floorboards to pry up. Tilting her head down and rubbing her temples, she felt time running down.
Then she saw it. Behind the toilet—one of the tiles was missing grout.
Jodi stepped down and knelt. It was behind the tank, completely hidden from sight, but if she pressed just slightly on the corner—
The tile popped out.
She grabbed it before it tumbled down and shattered. Laying the loose tile on the floor with shaking fingers, Jodi turned her attention to the small hole in the wall. She reached inside, and her fingers closed on something shaped like a cell phone. When she pulled it out, Emily’s bright pink phone case greeted her. She let out a tight breath.
Emily hid her phone here before she died. She’d told Jodi that no one knew about this space. For some reason, she didn’t want anyone to be able to find her phone.
Jodi tried the power button, waiting for a burst of light from the screen, and gasped when it happened. She looked to the bathroom door, hoping she still had time. Waiting for Emily’s screen to open was torture.
Should she take it with her? Jodi wavered. She had already stolen a file from the counselor’s box. If she was ever found with Emily’s cell phone on her …
No, what she wanted was to figure out what Julian had texted Emily that day, maybe glance through a few things, and turn it off again. If there was something to help Zack, she could possibly “remember” that Emily hid things in the bathroom, and tell the police. But that would open up a huge can of worms for all the other things she couldn’t verify in the next five minutes.
Glancing at the dark opening in the wall, Jodi’s eyes caught on something else. A book maybe. Leaving the phone to boot up, she dropped to her knees again and reached for it.
She pulled out a worn leather notebook. Jodi opened to the first page and found Emily’s handwriting:
AUG. 17, 2023
NEW JOURNAL FOR A NEW HIGH SCHOOL. I’M GLAD TO BE LEAVING SAC HIGH, BUT I HATE STARTING OVER.
Jodi gasped. She flipped forward, finding entries all throughout the school year.
AUG. 21, 2023
I DON’T THINK THERE EVER WAS A BOY AS PERFECT AS ZACK THRASHER. I WANT TO WRITE POETRY ABOUT HIM. REALLY BAD POETRY THAT I’LL NEVER SHOW ANYONE (ESPECIALLY HIM) BUT I WANT TO WRITE IT AnYWAYS. I WANT TO USE METAPHORS TO PERFECTLY CAPTURE THE SHADE OF BLUE IN HIS EYES, AND THE TEXTURE OF HIS HAIR. I DON’T EVEN THINK HE STYLES IT. IT’S JUST … PERFECT.
Another journal?
Jodi turned to the doorway, listening. Could she take this? What would she do with it?
Making a split-second decision, Jodi pulled out her own cell phone and opened the camera. She took pictures with one hand, flipping pages with the other, only stopping when she saw her name.
OCT. 9, 2023
I GOT TO SPEAK TO JODI TODAY! I JUST SAT DOWN NEXT TO HER IN THE LIBRARY AND SHE TALKED TO ME!
Jodi picked up her pace, switching to video and hoping that the image quality was clear. She got through December when Emily’s phone on the bathroom counter buzzed awake. She kept going, turning pages.
Jodi flipped to the end of the journal, looking for the last month of Emily’s life, hoping she could find something to help her friends.
But it cut off in April. Jodi’s brows knitted together. She flipped through every page, and couldn’t find a single date in May. Why?