Page 107 of The Debutantes
His voice is sharp and loud, turning like a sudden gust of wind. “Have you stopped for one moment to think and realize, somewhere in that thick head of yours, that maybe things have changed?”
The silence hangs heavy, and I realize how cold it is, the high tin ceilings of the warehouse trapping the cool night air.
Beside me, Piper raises her bound hands like she’s waiting to be called on in class. I feel another stab of betrayal low in my gut. How quickly she was willing to give up, to be the good little Maid they want her to be.
“Detective Rutherford?” she tries, when he still hasn’t noticed her. “I’m still ready to reach an agreement. I think we can all—”
“Shut up!” he roars, making her cower. “Let me think. I can’tthinkwith all of your noise.”
All of us, even Coach, go quiet, giving him exactly what he wants. And I don’t understand. There arefourof us. We’re smaller, maybe, and he has the syringe, but we’re double in number. They only tied our hands. We can’t just sit here, staying quiet so this man can have the time he needs tothink.Waiting until he inevitably decides to sacrifice us to save his own skin.
So don’t wait,Margot’s voice rings in my head.
And this time, I listen.
“Hey, Coach.” I look him dead in the eyes. “I said I didn’t want your agreement.”
“Quiet,” Marty orders, but I ignore him, laser-focused on Coach.
“You too much of a coward to kill me?”
“She’s baiting you,” Marty says, but I watch his grip tighten on the syringe. “Ignore her.”
“I want him to say it to my face,” I push. “I want him to tell me he’s too scared to kill me. Even though Margot was no problem, right? What’s different this time? Are you afraid Daddy won’t clean up your mess again?”
“Give it to me,” Coach says, holding his hand out for the syringe.
“Reed—”
“Give it.”
Marty watches his son, tracking Coach’s face like he’s trying to make sure this isn’t a bluff. Then, with a resigned, almost amused look, he hands it over. My heart shudders, every atom of me vibrating with awareness of the needle’s sharp point as Coach takes a step toward me.
“April,” Vivian croaks.
I can feel Piper’s and Lily’s stares, too, their silent screams for me to stop, but I ignore them, doing instead what I learned from them both: I lift my chin. Roll my shoulders back, like a queen balancing her crown.
“Just one question first.”
Coach pauses, and I feel it surge through me—the power of stopping a man with just my voice.
“Does she haunt you?” I ask. “Because she haunts me. Every night. All the little things I remember. Her laugh. The way her voice got kind of raspy from singing too loud or talking too much.” My throat is burning now, but I keep going. “Or the way her boots sounded on the ground, like she was never afraid to make noise. The way she could walk right up to someone and say exactly what she thought like it was the easiest thing in the world.”
Another twitch, another crack in his mask.
“I’m asking,” I say, “because I want to know how you get through it. How you sleep at night. How you live with yourself, carrying all this guilt around, knowing you killed a girl to protect a father who doesn’t even give a shit about you.”
“That’s not true,” Coach says weakly.
I laugh. “Bullshit.”
“Stop it.”
“Reed,” Marty warns.
“You think he cares?” I ask Coach. “You killed for him. If he loves you so much, then why wouldn’t he take the fall instead of blaming it on someone else?”
Coach turns to look at Marty, uncertainty flooding his face. “Dad…”
