Page 23 of The Debutantes
8PIPER
DECEMBER 30, 2:00P.M.
“Shit on a fucking stick,” I hiss. “Someone followed us. What the actual…”
I reach for my phone, but Vivian’s shocked expression stops me. “What are you doing?”
I stare back at her. “Calling the police. Or an adult. I don’t know, someone to help?”
“Wait, hold on.”
“Why?”
“Just—I don’t know. Can we figure out what’s, like, actually happening first?” Vivian picks up the invitation, reading the inky script. “We all know how hard it is to keep a body underground in this city.What does that even mean?”
“The cemeteries,” April says quietly.
“What?” I ask.
April pulls at her camera strap, a haunted look in her eyes as she stares at the mess of photos on the floor. “That’s what it’s referencing, I think. Since New Orleans is below sea level, and we can’t bury anyone underground or else they’d, you know. Float back up.”
“That’s… creepy,” I manage. I’ve also heard that fun little tidbit about the cemeteries—everyone who grows up here has—but I’m a little shocked that April jumped right to the most macabre of conclusions. Although actually, looking at the mausoleums she’s apparently chosen to photograph, I shouldn’t be surprised.
But that’s the least of our concerns. Because this message, combined with the stunt at the ball last night…
I reach for the invitation, and Vivian lets me take it.
“The Jester,” I read aloud. “Whoever left this is the one who sabotaged the ball. The guy in the costume.”
An uneasy feeling washes over me. Yesterday, I thought the stunt with the blood was a bad joke at best. At worst, it was some disgruntled person trying to take a stand against Les Masques and whatever elitism they assume it stands for. But now that Lily’s missing, it seems so obvious: what if it wasn’t a threat against the organization but against this specific Queen?
“This is about Lily,” I say.
“It’s about Margot.”
We both turn to look at April. Suddenly, it seems, she has a lot to say.
“Lily wanted to talk to us about Margot,” she continues. “And last night, at the ball, that was about Margot, too. And this…” She brushes the weird clown picture on the invitation. “This exact image was engraved on a lighter that Margot used to have.”
I cross my arms. “A lighter?”
April nods.
“That’s a weird coincidence, I guess,” I concede. “But Lily’s the one they threw the blood at.” And then I get another idea. “What if the Margot stuff was some kind of threat? You know, like… remember what happened to last year’s Queen.”
It’s far-fetched, maybe, but Lilyismissing, and the possibility is enough to make my skin crawl.
April looks down at her camera. She doesn’t argue, but from the way she’s winding the strap around her hand like she wants to cut off the circulation, it’s pretty obvious there’s something she’s holding back.
“April,” Vivian says carefully, “why did Lily say you’d know where to look in the darkroom?”
I search April’s stony expression, wondering the same thing. She practically lives in the photo lab, clearly, but itisweird that Lily implied some kind of shared knowledge between them.
Finally, April looks up at us.
“That ceiling tile. Margot used to hide things there, sometimes. And I guess Lily knew about it, too, because—” She pauses. “For a month or so, we were all sort of… friends?”
Her face reddens again, like she’s embarrassed to have said the word.Friends.It makes sense, now, why Lily would have roped April into whatever this is, but still, I’m surprised. I make a habit of knowing what’s going on socially at Beaumont—part curiosity, part scoping out the academic competition—and while April ranks low on the list of valedictorian contenders, I’ve definitely never seen her hanging out with Margot or Lily.
