Page 15 of The Debutantes
April shrugs, red-faced. “I remember stuff.”
I want to ask why she’s not higher up in the class rank, but that would probably be considered rude, and anyway, she’s already walking up to the warehouse door. It opens, unlocked, and we follow her inside, our footsteps echoing on the concrete floor of the big yawning space.
During Mardi Gras season, artists and Deus members are here most days, putting the finishing touches on the floats and making sure their parade throws are in order. Now, though, we’re still about a week away from the official beginning of Carnival—the weeks-long period leading up to Mardi Gras Day—so the building is eerily quiet, empty except for the huge floats and their half-finished creatures staring down at us. I’m a little surprised, really, that they’d leave it all unattended after the vandalism last year.
“Hello?” Vivian calls out.
Silence.
My Apple Watch dings, and I look down at the screen. An email notification from Lily. Weird. She’s never emailed me except to send drafts of her college essays.
And then I clock the subject line:Delete After Reading.
I click to open it and see the other recipients. “Y’all?”
They both turn to look at me.
“Check your email.”
Vivian frowns. “Why?”
I thrust my phone in her direction. She gets closer to see it, April leaning in beside her.
If you’re getting this, something went wrong.
Check the darkroom. April knows where.
I’m sorry.
Xx L
Before I can even say anything, Vivian has her phone out and pressed to her ear.
“Are you calling her?” I ask.
She doesn’t have to answer. I hear it cut straight to Lily’s voicemail greeting, tinny through Vivian’s speaker.
“Hi, this is Lily, leave a message.”
Vivian hangs up and dials again.
“Hi, this is—”
She jabs theEND CALLbutton and types out a text instead.
“It won’t send,” Vivian says. “Like her phone is off, or something.”
I turn to April. “What does that mean, ‘check the darkroom’?”
“I—” Her voice cuts out sharply, like someone shut off the volume. April’s eyes are trained on a spot of concrete floor a few feet away, the space cluttered with cardboard boxes, paint cans, and papier-mâché flowers still waiting to be attached to their floats.
And then I see what she’s really looking at. A glimmer of something, catching the sun as it streams through the high warehouse windows. April bends down to pick it up, lifting it high enough for us to see the teardrop diamond on the gold chain.
I’ve seen that necklace before. I don’t need April’s weirdmathematical memory to remember where, either. Lily wears it every day, absent-mindedly fidgeting with the diamond, like she can’t help showing it off.
“Is that…”
“Lily’s.” Vivian finishes my thought. She turns around, taking in the space around us. “Lily!”
