Page 41 of The Fall of Iris Henley
“Because he does have a crush on Iris,” Sophie argues. “Think about it. Every time you hear about some girl getting harassed online, the perpetrator always turns out to be some mouth-breathing, neck-bearded misogynist that thinks she needs to be put in her place. So maybe Iris shot Bryce down one too many times and he decided to punish her for it.”
“The Sekrit post did show up like, ten minutes after we saw him at the party,” I say softly.
“I’m sorry, I don’t buy it,” Hayden says. “I was in computer lab with him last year, and this is not a plan he is capable of carrying out. He’s not what you’d call technologically savvy.”
“It’s not that complicated,” I say. “All he had to do was create a throwaway account, write one post, log off, and watch the rest unfold. Rockytruther only posted one time. Everyone else has done the heavy lifting for him.”
“Do you know Bryce’s Sekrit username? Maybe we could see if he’s been liking the posts.” Hayden picks up her phone, leaving a long green streak of wet nail polish on the screen. But I shake my head.
“Hey, look at his Insta, though.” Sophie’s got her phone now too. “It’s just guns, guns, and more guns.”
I get up and look over her shoulder. There’s Bryce, posing with a handgun. There’s one of him posing with a semi-automatic rifle. There’s a clip of him filling a paper target full of bullet holes. It goes on and on.
“Creepy,” Sophie mutters.
I don’t say anything, but she’s right. I know plenty of people with guns—it’s Texas, after all. People here have guns. But most people don’t dedicate every inch of their social media feed to documenting those guns. You’d think there’d be something, anything else—pet photos, friends or family, whatever.
A knock comes at the door. Sophie’s vape pen disappears into her bag, and she turns on the ceiling fan quickly before she opens the door.
It’s Toni, there with a basket of clean laundry. She sets it unceremoniously on the floor before straightening up.
“Clean shirts,” she announces. “Bring me the basket when you’ve put it all away. Hi, girls, how’re you doing?”
“Studying,” Hayden says eagerly. She gestures toward her open civics text, but in the process she knocks the open gold polish over. A pool of it spills across a picture of Alexander Hamilton. “Shit. Oh, no, pardon my French!”
Toni grins. “More like AlexanderGlamilton, am I right?”
She’s a short woman with pixie-cut black hair and cat-eye glasses; she looks more like an Austin barista than she does a small-town dental hygienist who makes bad puns, but I guess we all contain multitudes. Sophie’s sometimes embarrassed that her mom doesn’t really fit in in Varda, which just goes to show that you can bitch about anything. As far as Hayden and I are concerned, Sophie’s got it good.
“You two ready for homecoming? Hayden, I’m assuming you’re going with Carter,” she says. “How about you, Iris?”
“Um, no, I’m going stag,” I say.
She nods. “Very sensible. You don’t want to be locked down.”
“Jeez, Mom.” Sophie grabs the basket of clothes and dumps them out on her bedspread. “Here, you can have the basket. Just go.”
“What? Why am I being banished? Just for asking mom questions?” Toni takes the basket. “Sophie’s going with William Schultz. He’ssocute. Andverypolite.”
“Mom!” Sophie propels her mom toward the door. “We have to study!”
“Okay, okay.” Toni’s voice fades as Sophie slams the door behind her. Then Sophie takes a deep breath and slides down to the floor.
“She is exhausting,” Sophie says. Hayden and I just exchange looks.
“I didn’t know Billy asked you out,” I say.
“Yeah, we’re going as friends.” She gives an impatient shrug, but I can tell she’s pleased. “Possibly friends with benefits. We’ll see how the evening goes.”
“He’ll be good arm candy, at least,” I say.
I’m happy for Sophie but also a little bit disappointed. Going stag is fun if you’re with other girls going stag, but I didn’t plan to be the only one without a date. For a second I let myself imagine things differently. I picture myself in a long satin gown, the homecoming crown nestled in my hair, as I pivot around the dance floor with…
Who? I don’t have any single guy friends I’d want to go with, and the only person I’d want to go with romantically is a three-hour drive away. No, Toni’s right. It’s better to go solo, to look amazing and dance with my friends and let everyone see me unbothered by the rumors.
Even though we all know it’s a lie.
DAY SIX
