This Secret Thing, стр. 52
Bess turned to go, then turned back. “Would you like for me to let you know if I hear anything? You know, about the body?”
“Well, sure,” Polly said. It would be nice to gain any information Bess could share. Polly had the feeling she was the hub of the gossip wheel, always the first to know. Polly had known many like her through the years. Usually she steered clear of them, but something about Bess’s demeanor told her that there was more to Bess than met the eye. It wasn’t what she said; it was what she worked to withhold. Polly guessed that most of the people who knew Bess took her at face value. And that that was a mistake. She guessed that if you bothered to dig deeper, you’d find not just one secret, but a whole cache of them. It made Polly like Bess Strickland.
She grabbed a piece of paper from Norah’s desk, scribbled down her number, and handed it over to Bess, who waved the paper. “I’ll be sure to call,” Bess promised, and tucked the paper in the pocket of her jeans.
“Thank you,” Polly said. “Call anytime.” And as she said it, she realized she meant it. It would be nice to get a call from someone else besides her personal banker and her angry, thieving husband. “And thanks for the flowers,” she called after Bess as she headed for the door.
Bess turned back for the second time. “Don’t mention it,” she said. And then she was gone.
Violet
At lunch that day, she hadn’t eaten alone—a nice change. A new girl had come up and asked, “Is this seat taken?” When Violet said no, she’d sat down. The girl chatted about herself. It was her third day at school. She’d moved from Cleveland, Ohio, and was super nervous about making friends. She hadn’t asked why Violet didn’t appear to have any, for which Violet was grateful. Violet filled her in on things about the school, told her some tales and legends, all the while keeping an eye on Micah across the cafeteria. Though he still sat near the people he once called friends, he didn’t interact with them, and they didn’t interact with him. He kept his head down, focused on his tray full of food and his phone, though Violet doubted it was because anyone was texting him.
She chatted with the new girl through lunch, and, for a moment, it had felt like perfectly normal people having a perfectly normal lunch. Then the girl leaned forward, putting her elbows on the table, which was not proper etiquette, but a high school cafeteria was not the place to point that out. She hadn’t whispered, because it was too loud in there for that, but she’d ducked her head before she spoke, as if someone might read her lips from across the room.
“I actually sat here on purpose,” the girl said, her tone confessional.
Violet nodded, intrigued as to why anyone would want to sit by her. Ever since she and Nicole had stopped hanging out, she’d found a few acquaintances—she wouldn’t call them friends—to eat and chat with, but they avoided her after the news had broken. Now she sat in the back corner of the cafeteria, scarfing down her lunch as fast as she could so she could go to class early and get a head start on homework. Her grades had never been better.
The new girl continued, “I wanted you to know that my mom died, kind of recently actually, and I thought maybe we’d have something in common. Since we both lost our moms.”
Violet looked at the girl, blinking as she tried to process what she’d said. Lost her mom? She hadn’t lost her mother; she knew exactly where she was. Sure, she wasn’t physically with her right now, but she’d be back soon. Wouldn’t she? Violet looked around the cafeteria. Did everyone here know something she didn’t?
She’d scoured news articles to find out all she could—the things the adults wouldn’t tell her—and she’d seen nothing that said that Norah’s fate was determined as of yet. Based on what Violet had read, if her mother would just give up that stupid client list, she’d already be home. She hoped her mother could explain why she wouldn’t just do the one thing that would reunite them. Violet hoped that when Norah did explain it, it would somehow make sense, so Violet could forgive her for what she’d put her through.
She thought of last night and Micah’s request. She’d told him she’d help him. But she hadn’t considered that finding the client list might help her, too. Maybe her mom wasn’t willing to give up the information, but an anonymous informant could. And then the police would have no choice but to let Norah Ramsey go, because they would have what they wanted. Violet envisioned the headline just above a photo of Norah reuniting with her daughter after being released. Violet could make this happen.
She glanced over at Micah again, watched him as he looked down at his phone, surrounded by a cafeteria full of people but utterly alone. What if they found his dad’s name on her mom’s client list? Would she have to betray Micah to free her mom? She didn’t want to think about that, about what could come. She would pretend to help Micah, and she would decide later what to do if the time came. It might not come at all, she consoled herself.
She turned back to the girl and started gathering up her things. “If you’ll excuse me, I see someone I need to talk to. It’s kind of urgent.” She pointed in Micah’s direction and stood up.
“Sure,” the girl said. A worried look crossed her face. “I’ll see you here tomorrow?”
“You bet,” Violet said. She gave the