034. The Biggest Mistake
At Aquino High, the truth comes from the most unexpected places.
Liam is back in school the next day, and to the average person he seems like he's 100% better. He sits in Physics next to me, his laptop lid open so that he's watching hockey videos while half-paying attention to Mr. Shapiro's lecture. He smiles and laughs when he's supposed to, and the only souvenir from his trip to the hospital are the sunken in parts underneath his eyes.
I watch him more carefully, though. I see that the bright sparkle in his eyes is duller than usual, that he takes a little longer to react to a joke and doesn't talk quite as loudly. When Mr. Shapiro ends the lecture and lets us loose to work on our homework in pairs, he shuts his laptop lid without a word of protest.
"Feeling better?" I ask him tentatively—the first time I've brought up the incident since I saw him last.
He shrugs easily, a casual rise and fall of his broad shoulders. "I guess," he says. "Honestly I'm sort of pissed. My parents are trying to make me stay home Friday night."
I lower my voice in case Mr. Shapiro's hearing is as good as it seems. "I thought your parents didn't care that you drink."
"They don't until it's a 'problem for my health.'" He makes air quotes, rolling his eyes. "It's stupid. You're right—they've never cared before. Why now?"
I don't have a response to this, so I just open my textbook to the problem set we're supposed to be working on. It occurs to me that Liam and I have an unlikely friendship—he does everything I don't, and to be honest his carefree attitude about alcohol bothers me most days. But I can't deny that he's a good person deep down, and he's one of the only people who's stayed beside me throughout everything.
Liam taps his pencil against the back of my hand, getting my attention. "Check out problem twelve," he says. "I'm totally doing this next time I want to impress a girl."
I drop my gaze to our physics textbook and scans the problem, which asks us to find an angle so that a driver turning a car can slide a "romantic interest" closer to him in the backseat. Scoffing, I say, "That seems like a lot of work just to impress a girl."
"I'm so smooth I make it seem like no work at all."
"Yeah, just bring a calculator and pencil on your date and spend five minutes figuring out the angle and radius of the curve first," I say, pulling out my own calculator.
He runs a hand through his hair, clearly contemplating. "I guess you're right," he says thoughtfully. "It does seem a little extra. By that point I'm usually in their pants."
Pressing my fingers against my temples, I say, "Liam Alvarado, sometimes you are the most inappropriate person I know."
"But that's why you love me." When I don't reply, he nudges me with his shoulder and presses, "Right? You're Miss Goody Two Shoes and you like having a friend who's on the wild side, right? Tell me I'm right."
"If you want to be right, then sure."
He does a little happy dance in his chair, but then seems to think of something and abruptly changes the topic. "Why weren't you at dinner last night?" he asks. "Everyone except Cassidy was there. We missed you."
I bite down hard on my lip, as if it's an excuse for me not to say anything. There were several reasons I chose not to go out with my friends last night. The first was that I didn't want to deal with stress: seeing Brynn and trying to keep her secret while simultaneously wondering which of my friends was betraying me. And while I wasn't twirling spaghetti around my fork at an Italian restaurant, I was cozied back in Taylor's living room with a carton of Chinese takeout, a blanket pulled up to my chin as he kissed me between bites and made me forget about all my problems.
"I didn't feel like going out," I say, even as I feel my cheeks flaming up.
"Hm." He studies me for a few seconds, one eyebrow raised quizzically, before declaring, "There's something you're not telling me."
"No there isn't."
"Yes there is. You're not looking me in the eye and your cheeks are sort of red. And you're hiding a stupid grin. Wait. You're in love."
"Yeah, surprise." I yank the physics textbook closer to me and pretend to scan our problem set, wondering when Liam became so intuitive. "I'm dating Spencer. Let's hope I'm in love."
Little does he know.
Liam seems satisfied with this explanation for all of two seconds before he presses, "But Spencer was at dinner with me last night. And you started acting all weird when I asked you about last night." Another pause. "You're not cheating on him, are you?"
I've reached a dead end. Liam knows me too well for me to deny this anymore. And yet it seems dangerous, to confess to one other person when I don't know who's truly on my side. I want to trust Liam—he's never given me any reason not to—but I have no way of knowing anything anymore.
"Erika?" Liam's voice wobbles a little at the end.
"No, I'm not cheating." Frustrated, I tug at the ends of my hair and say, all in one rush, "Spencer and I broke up a while ago. I—I found out he lied to me about last summer."
"What do you mean?"
Now I'm picking at the "used" sticker on my textbook, desperate to keep my attention anywhere except on the conversation I'm having. "He knew about Taylor and Allison. And he lied to me about it. He made me seem like the bad guy for being mad at him, when he was guilty all along."
"That sucks," Liam says, exhaling so slowly there's a small whistle. "I didn't know that. Wow."
"Yeah." I shrug. "So we broke up. Or I broke up with him. I still don't know how he feels about the whole thing."
"And now there's someone new?"
"Yeah." I can tell he's waiting for details but I don't plan on offering any, and to fill the silence I say vehemently, "You can't tell anyone, okay? Nobody knows Spencer and I broke up. Please just keep this between us."
He nods, but I can tell he doesn't fully understand because his eyebrows are smashed together, the way they do when he watches me work a physics problem over and over again. "Okay. But I don't get why it's some big secret."
"It just is. I'm sorry."
"Don't be." He pats my knee, his enormous hand almost the size of my thigh. "I'm sorry this happened to you."
As he turns back to our first physics problem, I feel like a tiny weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Granted, I didn't tell Liam the full story, but it feels good to confide in someone—even if it's just a little. Keeping my breakup with Spencer and my relationship with Taylor a secret has been draining me, and as long as I can trust Liam not to tell, I know I'll feel good about telling someone.
Then I remember the reason why Spencer and I broke up, and my spirits fall all over again. There's someone out there who's determined to ruin me, and I still don't know who. Soon, desperate times will call for desperate measures, because I know my three weeks are running out.
I start thinking about anything I could do to solve the issue. The only thing I can think of other than figuring out who the blackmailer is myself is to try to minimize my friends' secrets. If we all come clean, then the blackmailer has nothing on us and we're free. But some of the secrets—even just the ones I've discovered so far—seem too important to announce just like that. After all, that's part of the reason why my blackmailer is so powerful.
Still, I know there has to be something I can do, and that process starts with information. And I realize there's one person I haven't spoken to that I need to.
"Do you have Luke's number?"
"Luke?" asks Liam, wrinkling his nose. "Luke as in Brynn's boyfriend? No. Why don't you ask Brynn?"
I can't. "Oh," I say. "Good idea."
And then I start scribbling down physics equations and drop the matter entirely. But I don't text Brynn. I don't even tell Brynn. Instead I wait until Mr. Shapiro releases us at three o'clock on the dot before stationing myself right in front of the computer lab. Stereotypical as it seems, I know guys like Luke spend a lot of time on the school computers with their headphones pressed against their ears. It seems like the only place I'm likely to find him.
Sure enough, he emerges at three fifteen, after the hallways have emptied substantially and I'm left leaning against a nearby locker and flicking through Instagram absentmindedly. I scroll past endless posts of my friends at dinner last night, with hundreds of likes apiece racked up. I double tap each of them out of obligation, commenting a few hearts on Cassidy and Brynn's. When the door opens and Luke emerges, the respite from my resurfaced worries is welcome.
"Luke!"
He still has his headphones on and at first he doesn't see me. I have to follow him a few feet down the hallway and tug his sleeve before he finally turns around.
"Erika!" he exclaims, as if I've caught him off guard. "Hi. Um, what's up?"
"Can we talk?"
Nodding, he slides his headphones down so they rest around his neck. After he stands waiting for a few seconds, I clarify, "In private."
"Oh." He strides back towards the computer lab and opens the door for me. "It's always empty in here."
I follow him inside, shutting the door gingerly behind us. Then I retreat to the far corner of the room, where a passerby wouldn't be able to spot me through the tiny window. "I know what's going on with you and Brynn," I say.
His soft features remain neutral, as if he's practiced denial all too often.
"Luke, I know," I reiterate. "I know she's with Sophie."
This time, his silence is more shocked than anything.
I hop up onto one of the swivel chairs adjacent to a computer and swing back and forth a few times before adding, "She hasn't told me, but I saw them. And I've overheard you talking with her. I guess I'd just like to know more."
For the first time, I realize that Luke could be the blackmailer. Since he's "dating" Brynn, he spends an adequate amount of time with us, and he no doubt hears about us from Brynn. Not to mention there used to be a rumor going around that he was infatuated with me, so he could have very well been trying to get revenge. But how would that explain the girl on the phone with me? Or the one videoing Brynn and Sophie outside of the gym?
"I can't tell you anything else," says Luke, cracking each of his knuckles one by one in an agonizing show. "If Brynn hasn't told you anything then I'd be disloyal to her to explain. Just, please don't tell anyone. She's really worried people are going to find out."
"Why? It's not a problem."
"Erika, just don't."
"I'm not going to tell!" I exclaim, my voice rising defensively. "I'm not that bad of a person. I just don't understand why she's keeping it such a secret."
He shrugs, but when I open my mouth to say something else he cuts me off. "I have to go," he says. "Is this all you wanted to talk about?"
"I guess." My heart is sinking, and I realize I'd gotten my hopes up that Luke would somehow, miraculously, carry the key to me being able to solve all of this. But he's been entirely unhelpful, and now I'm left guilty that I came to talk to him at all.
Nodding at me curtly, Luke pops his headphones back on and lumbers out of the computer lab. Seconds later the door shuts behind him, leaving me alone in the lab.
I turn my chair in a few circles, welcoming the dizziness just so I can feel something other than utter disappointment. On my third rotation I lose balance and fall into the computer on the desk beside me, bringing it out of sleep mode. A folder is opened on the screen, labelled "avocado."
My breath stops as I scoot my chair closer to the screen, reading the name of the folder. It's what we all decided to call Liam, in that glorious time between the Post-It drama and my blackmailing. And while the folder could be anything, even a student project somehow relating to avocados, deep down I doubt it.
With a quick glance at the door to make sure it's still firmly shut, I open the folder. I'm surprised it's not password-protected and even more surprised that it's on a school hard drive when I see a series of videos pop up on the screen. Nervously, I click the first one, my palms clammy.
The screen is dark for the first few seconds, and all I can hear is music. It's loud and heavy, and the pass drums at my temples through the low-quality computer speakers. Then it quiets down a little and the screen takes focus.
I recognize Liam's living room instantly—it's filled with people and drinks, a typical Monday night party. I wonder which night this was, and what drama happened while this was being filmed.
Slowly, the camera moves, down the hallway and into the master bedroom. Then it stops, positioned on the nightstand so that I can only see the doorway.
"...you can't keep doing this! She'll find out eventually. We can't expect her to find out everything else and not this."
For a second I lose all concept of time and space as I shakily press the pause button. It's a recording of the conversation I eavesdropped on, inside the office with my ear pressed against the wall. Even though I have every word memorized, I hit play again and keep listening, unable to stop.
"It'll be fine. Chill." Again, it occurs to me that the voice sounds like Liam's. The more I listen the more I try to convince myself that this isn't true, but I wonder how long my heart will be able to contradict my mind.
"She better not! If she does, I'm dead."
"Chill. It'll work out. Now I've got to find Celia. Where is she?"
Abruptly, I hit pause again. I know how the rest of the conversation goes, and I can't bear to listen anymore. I remember my conversation with Liam earlier today, how open I'd been with him. It all makes perfect sense now. Even his secret—that his parties are for more reason than one—is crystal clear. He used the parties to spy on us, to learn our secrets so he could use them against us later.
But the biggest question remains: why? Why would he do any of this? Is there any other reason than to hurt us all?
With a shaking hand, I use the trackpad to exit the first video and pull up a second. There's no proof that Liam is behind this, and right now it just makes me a disloyal friend to assume that he is.
The next video is the one I saw the girl recording at the gym yesterday—through the tiny window, I can see Brynn and Sophie kissing. The shapes are relatively indistinct, and if they didn't turn towards the door at the end of the clip they almost could have passed off as any two girls.
This video ends suddenly, likely because the recorder heard me coming and scurried away. With another wayward glance at the door to make sure I'm still uninterrupted, I click on the third video. Not surprisingly, it's the recording of Taylor and me kissing the day before my blackmailer first called—the video she'd already threatened me with.
The fourth video causes my blood to turn cold. Even though the screen was blurry and it looks like it was recorded through a window, I can still see Taylor and me sitting on the couch in his living room together. I'm wearing the same purple sweater and black boots I was wearing last night, and the takeout boxes littered around us are all too familiar. Chewing on the inside of my cheek, I watch as the camera records him leaning towards me and kissing me. It makes my stomach twist when I see how quickly—how almost desperately—I respond.
I watch that clip for another few seconds before I feel too sick to continue. This has arrived at a whole new level: my friends and I are being stalked. It's not longer a matter of trivial high school revenge. Someone is out to get us, and they're serious about it.
There's one last video in the folder, and it's only a few seconds long. I pull it up and immediately see Liam's handsome face in the still: his dirty blonde, windswept hair; his inquisitive brown eyes, and his bright white teeth. But his face couldn't look more serious at he stares straight into the eyes of the camera and declares, without hesitation, "Erika Soto, you're dead to me."
At Aquino High, the truth comes from the most unexpected places.