Gemma Halliday - Social Suicide

Connor cocked his head at me. “Yeah. So what?”

“How did Sydney feel about that?”

He shrugged. “I dunno. Why?”

“Well, it’s just that I know how these late-night study sessions can go. I’m not sure I’d be cool with my boyfriend engaging in them. At least not after what happened with Quinn.” I gave him a pointed look.

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Hey, that was a one-time thing. Totally a mistake. And Quinn started it.”

“But Sydney wasn’t very happy about it.”

More cheek biting. “No.”

“And then you broke up with her to win homecoming with Jenni.”

“I told you, she was cool with that.”

“How cool was she with you and Val studying together?”

“I dunno.” He shifted his helmet to the other hand.

“I mean was she upset? Angry? Sad?”

He shrugged. “She was… you know… not happy, I guess. But she understood.”

“That’s a pretty understanding girlfriend,” I observed. “You sure she wasn’t upset? That maybe you two had an argument? One that might have gotten out of hand and someone was, say, pushed into a pool over it?”

“Dude, you are way off,” Connor said. Though he shifted his helmet to the other hand again, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Where were you three nights ago?” I asked, switching gears.

“Why?”

“Nicky Williams was attacked. Most likely by the same person that killed Sydney.”

Connor’s eyes narrowed. “I had nothing to do with Nicky getting hit. I don’t even know Nicky.”

“And Sydney?” I pressed.

His front teeth munched down on his lower lip, his eyes hitting the ground. “Look. You want to know the truth? Fine. It was my fault, okay?”

“What was your fault?” I asked, leaning in.

“I killed Sydney.”

I froze, the sudden confession stunning me. “Wait-you admit you killed her?” Surely it couldn’t be this easy, could it?

Connor nodded, still staring at the ground. “She couldn’t take seeing me with Jenni. Not after what happened with Quinn. I told her it didn’t mean anything, but then when she found out I was studying with Val? Well, that must have pushed her over the edge.”

I narrowed my eyes. “‘Pushed her over the edge?’”

He looked up, genuine regret filling his eyes. “Why else would she kill herself?”

I blinked at him. “You said you killed her because you think she killed herself over you?”

He nodded.

Mental face palm. Suddenly I wasn’t sure there was enough room on the campus for both me and his ego.

On the other hand, Connor looked like he sincerely thought Sydney had killed herself over him. In fact, this was the most sincere emotion I thought I’d ever seen from him.

Which meant my number one suspect just plummeted to the bottom of my list.

I left Connor, contemplating this cheery thought as I trudged back toward the stadium. The game was about to start, but my heart just wasn’t into watching it. I was depressed. Depressed for Sydney who had not only been dumped by the vainest guy in the world but also killed by some schmuck. And depressed that I was no closer to finding out who that schmuck was. It didn’t seem fair.

I wandered past the main entrance gate, out into the now dark and deserted parking lot, the crowd having filtered into the stadium, where I could hear their collective cheers rising up to the night sky from the well-lit arena.

“Hart!”

I was so engrossed in being depressed that I hadn’t even seen him until he called my name. Chase. He was standing at the trunk of his Camaro.

I had a fleeting thought of running away-the last thing I wanted to do was add to my depression by hearing about Chase’s wonderful girlfriend-but I knew Chase could outrun me. Instead, I shoved my hands into my sweater pockets and walked toward him.

“Hey.”

“How come you’re not inside?” he asked.

I shrugged. “I was interviewing Connor.”

“What did he say?” Chase crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against his car.

I gave him the gist of the interview, how Connor was convinced that Sydney had killed herself over him.

“Do you think she did?”

“No!” I spit out on a laugh. “Geez, how conceited can a guy get?”

Chase frowned. “Well, it’s possible she was really hung up on him.”

“You think all girls are just hanging on guys? That guys mean that much to us?”

Chase cocked his head at me. “No. But maybe-”

“I mean, we can get along without you guys, you know? The sun does not rise and set on having a boyfriend. Those of us without boyfriends can get along just fine.”

“Okay. It was just a thought,” he said, taking a step back. “Geez, what’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing has gotten into me. I’m fine. Totally fine.”

“O-kay.”

“Where’s your friend ?” I asked.

“Who?”

“The girl I saw you with earlier.”

“Oh, Carly? She’s inside. She left her jacket in the car.”

I looked down and saw a pink Windbreaker in his hand. Fab.

“Well, you don’t want to keep her waiting,” I said, turning around.

“Hart, are you okay?”

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?” I shot back, a little louder than I’d meant.

“Hart-”

“I’m fine!” I shouted, then turned to go.

But I took only one step, my eyes inexplicably blinded by blurry, unshed tears, when I felt Chase’s body slam into mine from behind.

“Unh!”

I fell to the ground, the full weight of Chase on top of me as the asphalt scraped my palms, and my forehead connected with the ground, jarring my teeth together with a painful smack.

I was about to ask what the hell he thought he was doing when a pair of headlights whizzed past my head, tires coming within inches of my nose.

Holy fluffin’ fudge. That car had almost hit me!

“DID YOU SEE THAT CAR?” CHASE GASPED IN MY EAR.

I paused, blinking back a sudden headache. “He tried to hit me. He was going to run me over.”

“I didn’t see the license plate, but I’m pretty sure it was a Toyota,” Chase said, standing up and staring at the taillights as the car rounded the corner onto Main.

“He was going to kill me.” I turned to Chase. “He was trying to kill me.”

Chase reached down, grabbing my hand and pulling me up off the ground. “Did you see the driver?” he asked.

I shook my head. Honestly? I hadn’t seen anything more than a pair of headlights.

“You’re bleeding.”

I looked down. He was right. My palms were scraped raw.

“Get in. I’ll drive you home,” he said, gesturing to the Camaro.

I paused. While one near-death experience was enough for one night, walking four dark blocks home while a guy in a car who wanted me dead was out there riding around didn’t hold a whole lot of appeal. I did a mental eenie-meenie-minie-mo and finally got in.

Chase made the five-minute drive in two flat, pulling up to the curb outside my house and insisting on following me to the front door.

It was unlocked, and I pushed inside, finding Mom on the sofa in the living room, sitting next to the only thing that could possibly make my evening worse.

Raley.

Dude. A second date already? They both had glasses of wine in hand, and Mom’s cheeks were flushed pink as if it wasn’t her first.

Raley looked completely different than I’d ever seen him. Gone was Cop mode, and in its place, a relaxed pose, eyes crinkling, lips tilted upward in a lazy smile. His entire being was different.

Or maybe that was just my bump on the head talking.

“Hartley?” Mom asked, confusion lacing her voice. “I thought you were staying at Sam’s.”