The Last Echo

Violet clenched her jaw as she dropped her lunch on the table across from where Jacqueline stood beside Chelsea. Claire sat on the other side of her, daintily unfolding the plastic wrap around her sandwich, oblivious to the tension in the air. Violet searched Jacqueline’s face for any visible marks where the ball had hit her the other day in PE.

Jacqueline ignored the halfhearted, quasi introduction and took a deep breath as if she were getting ready to start one of her cheer routines. Even her regular voice was . . . overly spirited. “I just wanted to come over and invite you guys to Hannah Sanders’s house tonight. Her parents are out of town and she’s throwing a rager. Everyone’ll be there. And I do mean everyone.” She directed her gaze to Jay as she said the last word, her eyes sparkling playfully.

Violet was biting down so hard now that she was worried she might actually shatter her own molars. She squeezed as close to Jay as she could manage on the cafeteria bench. She knew it was a possessive move, but at the moment that was the least of her concerns.

“Sorry, Jac, I have to work,” Jay said, and Violet’s stomach tightened, wondering when he and “Jac” had ever even talked before, when they’d gotten chummy enough to use nicknames.

Jacqueline’s shoulders sagged. “Aw, that stinks, Jay! I was counting on you to be there.”

“I can make it,” Claire offered, her sandwich halfway to her mouth, as if Jacqueline were worried about a head count.

“Yep, me too,” Jules added, leaning forward on her elbows. She lifted an eyebrow, a wicked smile dancing across her full lips. She knew this had nothing at all to do with how many people showed up. “Chels?”

Chelsea grinned with satisfaction. “Oh, I wouldn’t miss it,” she said, tapping her lip thoughtfully. “In fact, I think you should come too, Vi. It wouldn’t be a party without you.”

Violet scowled at Chelsea. “Sorry. I might’ve gotten my phone back, but I sort of doubt my parents will be letting me go to parties any time soon.” She had no intention of admitting that the last place she wanted to be was at Hannah Sanders’s house with a bunch of Jacqueline’s friends.

“Your loss.” Jacqueline shrugged, but she didn’t sound all that disappointed to hear Violet wouldn’t be attending. Again, she turned to Jay. “If you change your mind . . .”

Jay laughed off the suggestion as he cupped his hand around Violet’s knee, squeezing it reassuringly. Violet thought of the way she’d seen Gemma cupping his hand the day before at the Center, and she couldn’t help it; she felt something well deep inside her, something close to frustration and worry. She felt like she’d missed something important.

She knew Jay wasn’t interested in Jacqueline—or at least she hoped he wasn’t.

“What did you do, anyway?” Chelsea asked after Jacqueline had sauntered away.

Violet glanced up, confusion evident in her green eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“To get in so much trouble, what did you do?”

“It was nothing, really,” Jay explained, dropping his arm around Violet’s shoulder and pulling her closer. “Violet did a little breaking and entering the other night and got busted by the cops.”

Chelsea frowned at him. “I don’t believe a word you’re saying. Violet doesn’t even jaywalk—no offense, Jay,” she said. “No way she was trespassing in someone else’s house.”

Jay just turned his wry gaze toward Violet for confirmation. “It’s true, isn’t it, Vi?”

She shook her head, trying to decide whether to laugh or to wring his neck for putting her in this position. Finally she sighed, her posture wilting. “It’s true,” she admitted. “But it’s not like I was stealing anything. I was just looking around. Besides”—she gritted her teeth and glared at Jay—“I’m not sure we should be talking about this.”

Jules interrupted her. “Oh, I’m totally sure you should be talking about this. This is the juiciest thing I’ve heard all week, maybe all year.” She glanced meaningfully at Violet, her light brows arched. “Probably the juiciest thing I’ve ever heard about you.”

If she only knew, Violet thought. And suddenly she wondered if she’d been wrong to worry about Jacqueline. Maybe Jacqueline was exactly the kind of girl Jay needed.

The kind of girl who went to parties.

The kind of girl who didn’t break into houses, or chase after dead bodies and serial killers.

An ordinary girl. A normal girl.

Violet hated parallel parking, so she decided that rather than embarrassing herself by even trying, she would drive around the crowded block several times, searching for alternatives. She finally found a spot in a small pay lot with spaces that were entirely too small, even for her Honda. It took some maneuvering but she managed to squeeze herself between a Toyota hybrid and a late-model Mercedes. From there, it was a walk to the main street where the café was, but at least no one had been watching as she’d backed in and out, and in and out, until she was straight . . . ish.

Making her way through the dingy alleyway lined with Dumpsters and discarded boxes, Violet had the distinct impression that this wasn’t the kind of place you would want to be after dark. But it was still daylight, so it wasn’t so bad.

Still, she walked quickly, tucking her hands into her pockets and keeping her head low. She glanced around, more wary of her surroundings than usual since she still felt groggy, a lingering effect from the pills that refused to dissipate entirely.