Page 15 of The Fall of Iris Henley
swifty4life:What are you even talking about? There’s no evidence but some dumb rumors.
bigmood:Bet there’s evidence they didn’t know to look for, maybe they would find it now
vernacular_girl:Doesn’t she have an alibi tho?
sugarspice:I hope she’s freaking out right now
Somehow that last one is the one that hurts most. It’s not just that people are willing to think I could kill someone. It’s the glee of it all, the fact that someone actually hopes I’m in pain.
I hit the refresh button. Force of habit, again. And there’s a brand-new comment—time stamped twenty-one seconds ago.
puma208375890:I know for a fact that she left the cheer sleepover that night. Her alibi is crap.
My breath seizes up in my throat.
“Sophie,” I whisper. She frowns, looks over my shoulder at the post. Then she rolls her eyes.
“Oh, come on,” she says. “That’s not true. They’re just making shit up to fan the flames.”
I want to believe her so badly. But the truth is, I don’tremember what happened that night. Not past a certain point, anyway. And I’m not confident Sophie, with her vape pen and whatever else she took, remembers much either.
“I was so fucked up,” I say uncertainly.
She shrugs. “Yeah, you were. Which is why I know you didn’t go anywhere. There’s no way you could’ve left that party, made it to the ranch, done… whatever… and then gotten safely back. Sorry, babe, but you can barely operate a TV remote when you’re mildly tipsy. I just don’t buy it.”
I try to let that reassure me. Besides—if someone had seen me sneak away from the party, they would have mentioned it sometime in the last six months.
Right?
DAY THREE
CHAPTER 11
SUNDAY, OCTOBER 9, 5:13PM
HENLEY HOUSE
Bzzzt.
Bzzzt.
Bzzzt.
By Sunday afternoon my phone is blowing up. It’s not just posts on Sekrit now. I’m getting texts and DMs from everyone I know. Most of them are nice. Girls on the team text to tell me they have my back. Friends from class, kids I grew up with, message to ask how I’m doing, if I’m okay?
A few are less nice.
U fukkin monster
Hope you get the death penalty
You never fooled me, I knew you were a piece of crap
Those mostly come from numbers I don’t know. Someone put my phone number on the Sekrit thread, so now everyone’s got it. Everyone’s making use of it.
I’m on my bed, my history textbook propped open in front of me, but I haven’t looked at it in I don’t know how long. My thoughts loop around, the merry-go-round from hell.Iris Henley is a murderer. I’m at the cabin, where are you? I know for a fact that she left the cheer sleepover that night. I hope she’s freaking out right now. Iris Henley is a murderer. I’m at the cabin…
Every few minutes I look at my phone. I can’t stop, even though I know I should, even though I know nothing new or helpful or meaningful will appear there. Refresh, refresh, refresh—every post and reply adds to the babble in my head.This is just a throwaway account, where is your proof? I always had suspicions. Iris Henley has always been weird. Iris Henley is a liar. Iris Henley is a murderer. I’m at the cabin, where are you?
