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You'll Be the Death of Me(82)

Author:Karen M. McManus

“That’s not what we’re talking about right now!” Ivy hisses.

“Still relevant!” I hiss back.

Ivy flexes her hands, like she’s getting ready to shove me against the wall. “My whole life could’ve been different if I’d gotten that note! We probably wouldn’t even be in this mess right now. And Spare Me would never have happened.”

Oh, hell no. “You don’t get to blame me for that,” I snap. “That was all you.”

“And Daniel…I’ve been awful to Daniel…”

“Not over this,” I remind her. “You didn’t even know about the Sugar Babies until this afternoon. You’ve been awful to Daniel on your own.” She doesn’t have a good answer for that, and my face burns at the memory of Daniel’s self-satisfied smirk. “Anyway, were you seriously buying all of that back there?” I continue. “Daniel is suddenly your pal, looking out for you, running interference with the cops out of the goodness of his heart? Come on.”

Ivy furrows her brow and lifts her phone, alternating between stabbing the screen and holding it to her ear. “It’s true, though,” she says after a few minutes. “I didn’t get any calls from them. He must’ve actually given them the wrong number.”

“If he did, I’m sure he had his own reasons.” Lara’s card is sticking out of Ivy’s bag, and a sudden, unwelcome thought lands with a sickening thud. Daniel has, as Lara would say, an interesting face. And even though he doesn’t take art, as far as I know, he’s down in this corridor all the time for lacrosse. “Maybe he’s D. Maybe he didn’t come into Lara’s classroom because he heard your voice. Maybe he came looking for her.”

“What?” Ivy’s face is a mask of confusion until she follows my gaze. “Oh no,” she says instantly. “No way.”

“Why not?” I ask. Now that the idea has entered my brain, I can’t seem to shake it loose. “Does it look like his handwriting?”

“I…” Ivy pulls the note out of her bag and opens it. She doesn’t look as though the contents reassure her. “I don’t know. Daniel doesn’t write stuff. He texts, or types. But there’s no way…” She narrows her eyes. “You’re just saying this to distract me.”

“No, I’m not. All day, you’ve been insisting that Lara’s part of this drug scheme. You keep looking for ways to make her fit, but you’re gonna ignore the fact that your brother kept his mouth shut today in a very uncharacteristic way? Not to mention that he was sporting thousand-dollar sneakers just now?”

“What?” Ivy recoils. “That’s ridiculous. He was not.”

“He was. I’ve seen those limited-edition Nikes on the news. They’re a grand, easy.”

“Well, he…he has a job,” Ivy stammers.

“Busing tables, right?” I ask. She nods. “Mateo does that, too. You ever seen him in thousand-dollar sneakers?” She doesn’t respond, and I add, “Maybe Daniel isn’t D. Maybe he’s the Weasel. Think about it. He’s everyone’s friend, he’s invited to all the parties, he really doesn’t want the cops involved—”

“Stop it!” Ivy cuts in. “You’re being horrible.”

“Yeah, well, so are you.”

We regard each other in silence for a few seconds, and then Ivy stuffs Lara’s card far enough into her bag that she can zip it shut. “I’m done talking with you about this,” she says stiffly. “I’m done talking with you, period.”

“Fine by me,” I say. It seems impossible, suddenly, that I ever could have cared enough about Ivy’s friendship to sabotage things between her and Mateo. Mateo, who stalked off like an angry toddler the second things stopped going his way. The two of them deserve one another.

“I’m leaving,” Ivy says.

I shrug with pretend nonchalance. “This isn’t Logan Airport. You don’t have to announce your departure.”

“Ughhhh,” she growls, spinning on her heel and flouncing away. A second later she’s gone, leaving me with the satisfaction of a solid parting shot.

It fades fast, though, and a feeling of gloom settles over me as I look around Lara’s classroom. Now what? Mateo’s gone, Ivy’s gone, and there’s nothing left for me to do except go home and explain myself to my parents. The thought doesn’t fill me with glee, to say the least. I find myself backing farther into Lara’s classroom, letting my eyes linger over the workstations, the supplies, the student creations on the wall.

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