Page 35 of The Fall of Iris Henley
I don’t know if it was the image of me in the cop car that did it, or if it’s just that the rumors have reached a kind of critical mass. Either way, people are openly staring now. This time last week, I could barely make it through the halls on time for class because everyone wanted to say hi or chat with me. Now, no one says a single word, and I can feel them watch, silent and bloodthirsty, as I pass. People on all sides hold their phones at angles that make me certain that I’m being filmed; everyone’s hoping to catch me doing something strange or pathetic or maybe even violent.
My locker is still busted, so I end up carrying all my textbooks with me. In my classes I try to make myself small, to vanish. The teachers finally seem to be aware that something is happening, though I can’t tell if they know what. In English Mr. Blanton holds me back for a half second after the bell to ask if I’m okay. I tell him I’m just fine, and he seems grateful when I hurry away. In world history, though, I keep catchingMs. Daltry watching. She’s one of the younger teachers and has always been a little too fascinated with all our gossip, so it wouldn’t surprise me if she’s on Sekrit herself.
At lunch, I make my way to the central courtyard. Most days that is where I meet Sophie and Hayden, and sometimes the other cheerleaders, if they’re not off with their boyfriends. Outside, the air is sweltering. Before my eyes can adjust to the outdoor light, a figure moves in front of me. Ashlynn Duvall, fists balled up against her sides. The sun’s behind her so I can’t read her face. I lift my hand to say hello, but she is first to speak.
“You can’t eat out here,” she says. Her voice is just loud enough for everyone around us to hear.
The buzz around us trails off. It’s bizarre to see the courtyard this quiet. It reminds me of some postapocalyptic movie scene where the city is empty and abandoned, surreal in its silence.
I take a moment to consider my options. Make a scene? Ignore her? Say something cruel? I finally land on flippant disregard.
“Get out of my way,” I say, angling my body to the left to push past her. But she blocks me. Her body is too close to mine. Close enough to scratch me, to pull my hair. She’s a volleyball player with a frame like an oak tree; she’s got at least five inches on me. If she decides to get physical, I’m cooked.
“You’re not welcome out here,” she says, more insistently.
It’s nothing I haven’t been reading on the app for the past few days, but it’s different, hearing it said out loud. My stomach turns to acid. Someone behind me laughs and it’s a strange, grating sound. What do I do if this turns into a fight? Should I take off my earrings now or wait for some kind of cue?
I’m spared the decision by the sight of Sophie and Hayden waving from their seat. They’re at a small table by themselvestoday. Without another word, I slip over to Ashlynn’s other side and step around her. I refuse to let myself look back, even though I can tell from Sophie and Hayden’s faces she’s still watching me.
Slowly, the sound starts to return to normal.
“What was that about?” Hayden asks, scooting over a half inch to let me sit.
“What do you think?” I ask.
“Pathetic.” She dips a french fry into its little tub of ketchup.
“She’s always been an attention whore,” Sophie says carelessly. “Remember how histrionic she was when Marliz Sanchez had leukemia freshman year? Crying in the halls nonstop.”
“Oh, that’s right. Wasn’t she’s the one who had all the panic attacks after Hurricane Harvey too?” Hayden asks. She clutches her hands in front of her. “‘Oh, my cousins all live in Galveston, I’m so worried for them,’” she says in a fake sob. “There’s never been something that girl couldn’t make all about herself.”
I grimace. I’m not particularly close with Ashlynn, but we’ve always gotten along. She was my lab partner last year in biology, and we always worked well together. And now she believes I’m a killer.
You think you know someone, dissecting a fetal pig with them.
“Hey, you guys have room for one more?”
I look up to see Max, his brown paper lunch bag clutched in his fist. I’m more startled than I should be. It’s not like Max doesn’t know Hayden or Sophie, but they tend to occupy different circles. I slide over and gesture to the spot next to me.
“The more the merrier,” I say. “Where’s Katy?”
He nods at a table across the courtyard. There she is, at a table with a few other girls, all of them staring daggers at me. I’m honestly a little surprised. She’s never been openly hostile like this.
“Aren’t I popular today?” I say, trying to sound flip. “I’m not liking my homecoming chances, guys.”
Sophie grins. “That’s okay. I was planning to win anyway.”
“Is she trying to explode your head with her mind or something?” Hayden says. She gives the other girls a quick nasty sneer before turning back to us. “You gotta tell us if we’re going to get caught in the crossfire.”
“I’m pretty sure you two are safe, but if she can figure out how to turn on the X gene, Iris and I are screwed.” Max looks at me. “How’re you doing?”
“Loving my new life as a reality TV star,” I say, trying to sound nonchalant. He doesn’t flinch; his pale blue eyes hold steady on my face, and I get the feeling he can see me clearer than I’d like. “It sucks, but I’m hanging in there.”
“Yeah,” he says. “I heard Ramos took you in yesterday. That guy swaggers around like a cowboy, but he doesn’t do shit. He’s gotten by on the bare minimum because nothing happens in Varda.”
“That’s what I told her,” Hayden says with a nervous glance toward me. “I mean, if he’d bothered to investigate to begin with…”
“… this rumor wouldn’t have teeth,” Max says. “Yeah, exactly. And now he’s just trying to cover his ass.”
