“That’s disgusting,” Lucas muttered as I forced myself to chew, the coagulated cheese sticking to the roof of my mouth.
I have no idea how long we’ve been playing—minutes, maybe. Hours. Days. It could be light outside for all I know, but in here, underneath these fluorescent bulbs, it feels like we’re in a vacuum. Like we’re the only people in the world.
I vaguely register Sloane to my left, though she’s more of a smudge than anything; a blur of color as she shifts her weight, flails her arms, whatever story she’s telling growing more animated by the minute. Lucas is rambling on about his latest truth, turning what should have been a simple answer into something heady and profound. The more we drink, the more we talk—our inhibitions are lowered, emotions raised—and the room is spinning slightly, Stevie Nicks still seeping through the speakers around us, her raspy voice pulling me into a trance as she drones on about things lost and had.
I close my eyes, drop my head, my mind once again wandering over to Eliza. She would have fit in so perfectly here. This is all she ever wanted, really: all those nights when she had tried to pull me away from the safety of our bedrooms, begging me to get out. Meet people. Do something. I never wanted to go. I was perfectly content with the way things were—just the two of us, the way it had always been—and suddenly, I feel like a hypocrite for even being here. For living this life she wanted more than anything.
“Levi.”
I snap my head up, his name slicing through the music and bringing me back to life. It came from Lucy, her cerulean eyes trained on him like a predator in the night. Maybe it’s the disarming nature of her gaze, or the fact that my cup is alarmingly empty, or even the contrast of her voice to that of Lucas’s—hers crisp and clean, compared to his disjointed rambling—but I suddenly realize I haven’t seen her take a drink all night.
Her cup is right there, sitting by her side, but she’s barely even touched it.
“Yeah?” Levi looks up at her, his own eyes inflamed from the fluorescent light or the alcohol or a little bit of both. He seems surprised to find her addressing him directly like this, though he’s been eyeing her all night, drawn to her the way everyone is. A feral tension radiating between them that’s come to feel normal for Lucy. I can tell he’s been wanting to talk to her, catch her eye, and I watch as he looks back down, realizing the pin is pointed at him. “Oh.” He lets out a laugh, self-consciously dragging one hand down his face. “Ah, truth, I guess.”
Lucy smiles, her lips curling up into that feline grin like that was the answer she was hoping he would pick. Then she leans forward, dramatic, hands on the floor in front of her like she’s about to let him in on her deepest secret.
“Levi Butler,” she whispers, her body tilting closer, a seduction in her voice that makes my skin pulse. The air around us is suddenly so charged, we’ve practically stopped breathing. “If you knew you could get away with murder, would you do it?”
CHAPTER 19
AFTER
Sloane is right: it was Lucy’s idea.
Right there, sitting in that circle, the seed was planted in all our minds. We didn’t even know it was there in the beginning. It was still a hidden thing, tucked away and biding its time, though over the next few months, its roots would dig deep into our brains, settling in. Spindly little things that would grow thick and strong, tendrils curling. Suffocating us. Holding us tight.
We knew what we were doing, though. We knew the risks. We can’t blame it all on Lucy, because while she was the one who started it, we were the ones who finished it.
My phone buzzes loud against my bedside table, the violent jolt of it startling me back to life, back to the present. Away from my memories of those early days, utopian and distant, and back to the stark reality of now: Levi dead, Lucy missing.
Sloane, Nicole, and me at the beating center of it all.
I glance over to my phone, finally, and roll my eyes when I see who’s calling, pulling myself from my comforter and answering after the fifth ring.
“Hey, Mom,” I say, wishing almost immediately that I let it go to voice mail instead.
“Margot, honey, oh my God,” she says, not bothering with a hello herself. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I say, rubbing my eyes. Lucy has been gone for a full week and none of us have been getting much sleep. It’s even worse now that it’s officially hit the news, the police asking for the public’s help to find her.
They still have no idea where she is. They’re starting to get desperate.