Page 26 of The Debutantes
They can’t argue, because I’m right. This city literally turned funerals into an excuse to get drunk and parade down the street.
Vivian sighs. “I guess it’s better than just waiting around and hoping they find her.”
“April?” I ask.
Her mouth opens and closes a couple times, like she’s short-circuiting. “Parties aren’t really my—”
“Don’t think of it like a party, then,” I say. “It’s an undercover mission. One that we need you for, by the way.”
She blinks. “Why?”
I hesitate. Normally, I’m not the best at complimenting people, but in this case, it’s merely a statement of facts.
“You notice things,” I tell her. “And you have a weirdly good memory. Also, you knew Margot well. That could come in handy if we’re trying to figure out how she fits into all this.”
April presses her lips together until they turn white.
“Fine,” she says.
I can’t fight the grin that spreads across my face, the little thrill I get whenever a plan starts to come together.
“Great. Then I’ll see y’all tomorrow at eight. Attire is festive casual.” And then, with a quick glance at April’s baggy bleach-stained clothes, I add, “But let’s put an emphasis on the festive.”
9VIVIAN
DECEMBER 31, 8:15P.M.
By the time Sav and I are standing on the porch of the Johnsons’ big white house on State Street, I’m already regretting it. I can tell Sav is, too, from the way she’s staring at the golden Deus sign on the front door like it might be a portal to hell.
“This is going to suck, right?” she says.
A weirdly relieved laugh rushes out of me, maybe just because it’s nice to hear her say what I’ve been thinking all day.
“Probably,” I say.
Normally, the Johnsons’ big holiday parties are the best. Mrs. Johnson is stuffy, for sure, but she’s at least alittlemore relaxed once she gets a couple glasses of wine in. Most importantly, there’s always an open bar, and even the stuffiest of New Orleans parents tend to be pretty chill with the whole underage-drinking thing.
But tonight, for obvious reasons, I don’t think anyone will be having fun.
“I just…” Sav hesitates. “I really thought she’d be back by now.”
My shoulders tense. It’s been almost forty-eight hours. Anyone who’s ever watched a crime show knows that’s pretty much the end of the window where missing girls get found.
But I force that down. If I think too hard about it, there’s no way I’ll make it through this door, much less the night.
“Yeah,” I say. “Me, too.”
“Maybe we give it an hour, and if it’s terrible, we leave?” She smiles a little. “We look too good not to at least show it off.”
I smile back, smoothing out my black jumpsuit. It’s an old staple of my closet, nothing as new or exciting as the gold sparkly dress Sav is rocking, but I like how I feel in it, the way it hugs my curves. I try to let it give me the confidence I don’t have that tonight will be okay. That maybe Piper was right, and if we try, we might even learn something that could help us find Lily.
“Deal.”
We ring the doorbell. It echoes over the noise of the party, polite conversation and clinking glasses. Piper swings the door open, wearing a navy dress that looks better suited for a Model UN conference than a party, even if shedidpair it with dangling silver shooting-star earrings.
“Hi,” she says, with a look that screams,You’re fifteen minutes late, Vivian, and you will not be hearing the end of this.“Welcome. So nice of y’all to come. Refreshments are in the dining room.” As we step inside, she grabs my elbow tight enough to leave a mark. “Vivian, can I steal you for a sec?” She shoots Sav an apologetic smile. “We’re about to take an official Les Masques Maids photo. Mom insisted. Try the bacon-wrapped dates, they’re amazing.”
Without waiting for an answer, Piper drags me away from Sav and into another room off the foyer. Her dad’s office, I’m guessing, from the big wooden desk and shelves of psychology books. April’s already here, legs dangling from an armchairlike she’s waiting to see the principal, her camera still slung over her shoulder.
