I didn't realize something was wrong. Not at first.
As I pulled into the school's parking lot, I used my windshield wiper to clear the sheets of rain trickling down the front windows. A buzzing crowd of students gathered in front of Fairwood, whispering to each other with their phones whipped out — typical Thursday morning. High school was a rumor mill on steroids, and gossip was a teen kid's rite of passage. It wasn't until I pulled closer that I saw the flashing lights through my car window, slick from the morning rain.
Red and blue flashing lights.
A sick feeling of bile rose from my throat, and I followed the pigments of color to see the cop cars parked in the front. My hands grew sweaty, and I tightened my grasp on the steering wheel. When I saw the crowd had dissipated, I undid my seatbelt before tugging my backpack from the passenger seat. I hitched it up to my shoulder before walking inside through the front entrance. It felt like people were watching me as I walked.
I found my locker, only a few lockers away from Taylor's. She was already there, wearing a black dress and dark eyeliner. She looked like she was attending someone's funeral. As soon as she spotted me, she walked over, her blonde braids swinging alongside her step.
"Did you hear the news? Natasha's missing. Like, really missing. I heard her parents called the police and everything." She almost looked proud, like she was glad to have the 411 before the rest of us.
My insides twisted. I had spent days convincing myself that it couldn't have been true, but the police had confirmed.
Natasha was gone. Griffin's voicemail — he wasn't lying.
When I didn't answer, Taylor tilted her head. "Did you know about this?"
"Only for like two days," I said. As soon as her eyes darkened, I could tell that I should've brought this up before. "Griffin called me," I added, lowering my voice.
She looked at me funny, and I could see the questions forming in her head.
"Griffin Keely?" she hissed. "That psychopath was dating her, right?"
He wasn't a psychopath.
"He used to." I pursed my lips.
"I thought you don't talk to him anymore." Her eyes narrowed as they analyzed me, and I flushed.
"We don't. I didn't answer," I said. "I don't know why he called me."
She believed me.
She had to believe me.
Taylor turned back around, leaning her back against the locker next to mine and letting out a long sigh. "Do you think they'll question us?"
"They might, but it's not like we'll know anything different from others. She's not our friend anymore, Tay," I said. "She wouldn't tell us anything." There was a time when Natasha would confide in us, but those days were long gone. The Natasha she had become was close to an enemy, and now a stranger.
"Yeah," Taylor breathed. She looked like she wanted to say something else, but decided against it. "There are already social media campaigns being run about her disappearance. She's trending on Twitter, which is pretty cool."
Cool was the last word I would use to describe anything about this case. I leaned my head against the locker, the cold panel like ice against my bare skin. "Are people looking for her?" I said. "I mean, the police have to be, right?"
"The local precinct is handling the case because it's still new. Too early to know anything. But if they haven't found her in a few weeks, they'll hand her case off to the Missing Persons Squad."
A few weeks?
"It won't take a few weeks. They'll find Natasha before then," I said. "People are acting as if something happened to her. She's fine. She's fine." My voice rose, and I knew I was trying to convince myself more than anything.
Taylor bit her lip. "Haven..."
"I'm fine," I said this time.
She didn't push it. "Look, I have to get to Calc. But I'll see you at the Valentine's Day party."
I finally turned to look at her. "We're still having the party?"
"We can't put our lives on hold for her." Taylor's voice was soft. "You said it yourself. She's not our friend anymore."
She left before I could say anything. I swallowed past the lump in my throat. For days, I had been playing a cat-and-mouse game with my mind, trying to convince myself that Natasha was okay, losing sleep over the idea that maybe she wasn't. Now, with the disappearance official, I knew Natasha wasn't just playing with our heads;
She was gone.
My phone vibrated, and I fumbled for it. Griffin's number flashed on the screen with one message.
We need to talk. Are you free tomorrow night?
I hated that there was a seed of doubt in my mind about Griffin, the one person whom I never thought I'd distrust. Still, I couldn't ignore that he had known about Natasha's disappearance before anyone else.
What if he had something to do with it?
"Haven."
Justin was approaching, and I slid my phone into my pocket, pushing Griffin's text to the back of my mind. He was still in his football uniform and gave me a forced smile. "The team was talking about Natasha." He shook his head. "Look, the cops in our town are good. They'll find her safe and sound in no time."
"I hope so," I managed.
He licked his lips. "I'm sorry I've been such a ghost recently. I had some stuff to deal with, but... are we okay?"
We weren't okay. Maybe I could tell him that if I wasn't such a coward.
"Let me make it up to you," Justin pressed. "After the party tomorrow, let's go to the lodge in Eastwood. We'll stay the night, get away from it all."
Griffin's text asking to meet floated back to me. I didn't trust him fully; I knew that. Part of me wanted to continue to avoid him — but I also knew he was the last person to see Natasha, the only hope I had for putting the pieces together. I couldn't leave with Justin if I wanted to see Griffin.
"I can't." I bit my lip. "I'm sorry, Justin, but I have something to do."
"Seriously?" Justin scoffed, eyes clouding with disbelief.
"We still have West's party. I can come over the next morning instead," I tried to say.
A look of recognition dawned on Justin's face. "Is it because you're scared that I'll try something? I'm not booking the lodge to get in your pants, Haven."
"What? No!" My cheeks flushed. This was not the conversation I wanted to have in the hallway. "I didn't think that you were. I just had something come up."
"I deserve a better excuse than having something come up," Justin said. I didn't meet his eye. He was going to brush over it; I knew he was. But to my surprise, he met my gaze and took a deep breath. "I know you're waiting, Haven. But are you not ready? Or it's not me you want your first time to be with?"
He searched my eyes, waiting.
I knew he wanted me to say something, anything. If I did, I could smooth things out between us.
I held my breath. It wasn't just Natasha I was worried about. Deep down, under it all, I knew there was someone else.
I was avoiding Griffin because old feelings resurfacing scared me. Being near him after all these months would hurt too much, opening up old wounds that had healed. There was too much of a past between us, too much to lose.
When I didn't respond, Justin turned away. The sound of the warning bell before class rang, and he disappeared down the halls.
I should've felt something. Regret, pain, emptiness.
I didn't, though. I just felt relieved.
"Hey, Haven?"
Cassidy Henderson smiled at me. We didn't know each other well, but she was a junior in the student council. Her signature iced coffee was in one hand, and a packet was in another. "Delivery."
"Who's it from?"
"I'm not sure. There's no tag postmarked, but someone left it in the student council office addressed to you."
"Thanks," I said.
Cassidy smiled and waved before heading off, her high ponytail bouncing with her step.
I pulled the yellow manilla folder open, reaching out to remove the card inside. The familiar print made me freeze up instantly.
Cupid's Guide to Murder — Step Two. Smile for the camera! You look picture-perfect. If only photos could capture the ugliness inside.
I touched the card, chewing my lip. When I turned the card around, I saw that there was a photo included. At first, the picture appeared blurry. I ran my finger over the frayed edges, narrowing my eyes to get a closer look. As I searched the silhouette, my heart dropped.
It was the explicit photo I had accidentally sent to Griffin our freshman year.