Page 29 of The Debutantes
“Yes, sir.” Jason nods quickly, fixing his collar.
That’s one of my favorite things about Coach: even though girls’ soccer is about as undervalued at Beaumont as any sport besides football, he still knows how to silence a quarterback and a linebacker at the drop of a hat.
“How about y’all cool off, yeah? Take a breath, have a cheese puff,” Coach says, his Texas accent slipping in. “From what I can tell, your mom worked real hard on tonight, and I’d hate for it to be ruined by a whole lot ofnothing.” He gives Wyatt a clap on the shoulder.
Wyatt scowls, but he grumbles a “Yes, sir.” He stalks deeper into the house, and Jason scurries off behind him.
Coach sighs when they’re gone. “Glad we nipped that in the bud before Mrs. Johnson caught wind. Don’t tell anyone I said so, but I think she’s just about ready to stab somebody with an oyster fork.”
“Piper might beat her to it,” I add, even though I’m not totally sure that’s an exaggeration.
Coach smiles, but it fades quickly. He runs a hand through his dark curls, which the team always jokes makes him look like a long-lost Jonas Brother. “I, uh… I heard about Lily.”
I tense.
“Elle heard it from some of the other Deus ladies, I guess.” He nods through the kitchen doorway at his pretty girlfriend, who’s in the next room, chatting with some other women near a tray of canapés.
My throat squeezes. “Word travels fast.”
“You okay?” Coach asks. “I know it must be tough, all this. I can only imagine.”
It hits me that he’s the first adult who’s actually asked me how I’m doing. Even Mom: she’s trying her best to stay positive, like anything less hopeful than “Don’t worry, Viv, everything’s going to be okay” is bad luck. Dad, I haven’t even seen since the ball, and he hasn’t checked in, either. Since the divorce, anything but Les Masques, school, or soccer seems like dangerous territory for us.
“Yeah,” I say. “It sucks.”
Coach nods, and I’m glad he doesn’t try to offer some “everything happens for a reason” platitude. It’s nice to just letit sucksbe the truth.
“What’s your take on all this?” he asks, gesturing at two side-by-side frames on the wall: Piper’s Les Masques invitation, and her mom’s invitation to be a Maid in the Deus ball thirty years ago. There’s an empty space above them, where Piper’s Deus invitation will no doubt go in a few years.
“The deb stuff?” I shrug. “It’s not really my thing. But my brother was a Duke a couple years back, and my parents are into it, so.”
“Elle loves it.” Coach laughs. “She’s still got her Deus Maid dress in her closet. Her Les Masques one, too, from all the way back in high school. I guess I get the tradition of it all, but I don’t know. I’ve been feeling like a real fish out of water.”
“Well, you didn’t exactly get the best introduction last night.”
Coach winces. “I guess not. But between you and me…” He glances at me sideways. “Not really my thing, either.”
In the other room, Elle catches Coach’s eye.
“Reed,” she says, waving him over.
“Duty calls,” he tells me, giving her a little salute. “But hey, if you ever need somebody to talk to, you know where to find me.”
“Thanks.” I smile. “But I think mostly I could use a practice that really kicks my ass next week.”
Coach laughs. “You got it, Atkins.”
He goes, leaving me alone with the framed invitations. I think again of the one we found in the darkroom, just like these, except with the creepy clown logo and a much scarier message.
We all know how hard it is to keep a body underground in this city.
I turn, suddenly itching to get away from here. Not just the invitations, but this entire night, everyone drinking and stuffing their faces and pretending everything’s okay. And the way Wyatt blew up just now…
As I step back into the other room, I catch him standing alone, still clutching his beer by the neck. For a second, he meets my eyes. Then he stomps away.
Forty-eight hours, and the only lead I’ve got is that Wyatt was probably the last person to see Lily before she went missing.
That, and the part where it might be my fault.
