“Oh,” I say with a smile. “Hey, Ashlin.”
Ashlin smiles at me in the mirror. I can tell she’s trying to place me, trying to remember if she should know my name or not. “Hey there,” she says.
I walk up to the sink next to hers. “You don’t know me, but I’m on the yearbook committee. A bunch of us were saying the other day how your senior portrait is the prettiest one of all the senior girls.”
Ashlin turns around. “That is so sweet of you to say. I was actually choosing between that shot and another one where I’m not showing my teeth when I smile. I went back and forth for, like, weeks, but Derek said the one I picked made my hair look blonder, so.”
“It’s true.” I make like I am going to walk out, but then I stop and turn back around. I bite on my pinky, like I’m deliberating something, and then I say, “I feel so bad for Alex. But then again, Reeve’s been violent before, so maybe it’s not surprising that he’d lash out like that when someone finally stood up to his bullying.” Ashlin opens her mouth, like she’s going to say something. But then she just nods, so I keep going. “Actually, it’s almost exactly like what happened with him and that poor girl in seventh grade. Except less tragic, obviously.” I shake my head. “No wonder Lillia doesn’t want to be with someone like that. He’s got blood on his hands.”
She frowns and says, “What are you talking about?”
I look over both my shoulders and then lower my voice. “Reeve bullied a girl so badly she killed herself.”
Ashlin’s eyes widen. “What?”
And then I give her all the gory details. I tell her everything. Ash shakes her head a few times, but I know she believes me. I can feel it.
* * *
After Ashlin practically sprints out of the bathroom, I spend the rest of the day watching the story spread like wildfire. Some kids say they vaguely remember hearing about that girl. Big Easy. From church, or swim lessons. But after they hear what I went through, I bet none of them will forget me.
* * *
When I get to Reeve’s house, he’s having a full-blown fight with his mom in the kitchen. She’s holding his fist in a bowl of ice water. I can see it’s swollen and bruised on top of the old cuts he got punching his bathroom walls.
“You could lose your acceptance to Graydon. What do you have if you don’t get a fifth year? Nothing! All that hard work by you and Lillia will be for nothing.”
“I’m not going to lose my acceptance.”
“If they get wind of a three-day suspension, you think they’ll be happy?” She shakes her head. “I keep debating calling over to the Linds and apologizing on your behalf—”
“Mom, stop, okay? It’s not a big deal.”
She glares at him. “It is a big deal. You’ve had a rough year. Your injury, Rennie’s death, and now this,” she says, lifting his hand out of the bowl. Reeve looks away. He doesn’t want to see it. “I’m going to call Dr. Clark. I bet I still have his number.”
“Mom!” Reeve shouts.
At that, Reeve’s dad ambles in and digs around in the fridge. “Not this again. I’m not spending another couple hundred for some overeducated WASP to try to convince us that our son is depressed and possibly suicidal. Teen boys get into fistfights, just like seventh-grade boys want to climb on lighthouses and be little daredevil shits.” He pops open a can of beer, and both Reeve and his mom look up at the sound.
When his dad walks out, Reeve clenches his teeth and says, “I hate him.”
His mom puts her finger to her lips. “Reeve, please, don’t start with your father. He’s had a rough day. You know how it is when tourist season starts and the summer people come back in demanding this and that from him.”
At that, Reeve pushes away from the table so hard the ice water bath sloshes onto the floor, and he stalks out. Mrs. Tabatsky grabs a towel and starts to cry.
Things in the Tabatsky house are falling apart, but for me it’s all coming together.
Chapter Forty-Three
KAT
I WISH I COULD GO straight to Lillia’s house and find out what the eff happened between Alex and Reeve, but that scoop will have to wait. Instead I go to the Preservation Society immediately after school. I march right into Danner’s office. I’m so mad I’m shaking.
“Where’s my letter, Danner?”
“Excuse me?”
I sit down. “I want my damn letter of recommendation! I did everything you richy-riches asked for, including picking up your damn dry cleaning. Don’t you get that you’re screwing with my future?”
“I already wrote you one, Kat. I mailed it in a few weeks ago.” She narrows her eyes. “I told them how you were a woman of great poise and promise.”
Oh. Oh, shit. “Well, um, do you think I could possibly get another copy? Like, now?”
Danner looks like she wants to throw me out onto the street. And honestly, I’d deserve it, for the way I just spoke to her. “Please. If I don’t get this letter, I don’t have a shot. Please don’t ruin my life because I’m a freaking idiot.”
Danner opens her mouth, then closes it, then stands up. Grimly she says, “Let me get another piece of letterhead into the printer. I didn’t save my original, so I don’t know if I’ll be able to channel all the wonderful things I wrote about you the first time around, but I’ll try to pull something adequate together.”
Thank freaking God.
Danner leaves the room, and a few minutes later old Evelyn comes shuffling in wearing some amazing silk pantsuit and kitten heels, even though she’s ancient. I love Evelyn. The feeling must be mutual, because when she sees me, she brightens like her big honkin’ diamond ring.
“Oh, Kat, good. I didn’t realize you were working today.” She hands me a stack of papers. “Can you file these? I have no idea where they go.”
“Sure, Evelyn.” It’s the least I can do.
I walk out to the file cabinets in the hallway and start putting things where they belong. Press releases in the media file, contractor bids in the development files.
A power of attorney document? No clue where that goes.
It’s from Greenbriar Sanitarium.
In light of current medical concerns, Erica Zane has been awarded by the state full authority to execute all decisions, financial and otherwise, for her sister, Elizabeth [Bette] Zane.
Underneath that is a deed transfer. Mary’s house. Donated to the Jar Island Preservation Society.