Ariana’s throat closed up and tears prickled at her eyes.
Don’t do this, she told herself. Don’t get emotional. She doesn’ t care about you. She never came to visit you at the Brenda T. She never even called. The girl is a drunken waste of space who will probably end up dead of an overdose soon anyway. Really, you’re doing her and the little girls of the world a favor. One less wacked-out supermodel to look up to.
Or maybe . . . maybe she could just let it go. Kiran was completely gone anyway. There was a solid chance that she would wake up tomorrow and not remember anything that happened tonight. Or, at the very least, assume she imagined it. Maybe she didn’t have to do this.
“Omigod! You know what we should do? We should call Noelle!” Kiran said, stopping suddenly at the center of the bridge as a Porsche zipped by them, its engine revving. She whipped out her cell phone with surprising dexterity, then tripped sideways toward the guardrail. The light atop the nearest lamppost dimmed suddenly, and it was like a sign. A wake-up call. Just like that. Ariana no longer felt nostalgic or sorry or hesitant.
“Wait . . . what speed dial is she . . . ?” Kiran said, fiddling with the phone.
Ariana looked both ways. There were no cars coming. She had to do this. She had to do it now.
“K, I’m really sorry about this,” Ariana said coolly.
“What?” Kiran looked at her, her brown eyes unfocused.
Then, Noelle’s voice crackled through the phone, just loud enough for Ariana to hear, and all the air whooshed out of her lungs. Kiran held up one finger to Ariana, as if to say, “Hold that thought.”
“Kiran! Nice to not call me back, bitch!” Noelle exclaimed. “I have so much to tell you!”
Ariana practically salivated. Noelle. Noelle was right there. Right on the other end of the line.
“Omigod, me first,” Kiran said into the phone. “You’re never going to believe—”
And just like that, Ariana’s mind went blank. She placed both hands on Kiran’s shoulders and shoved her over the side of the bridge. Kiran’s mouth dropped into an O, her cell phone hit the ground, and then she was gone. She never even made a sound as she plummeted into the frigid dark water of the Potomac.
Ariana glanced quickly over the side to make sure she didn’t surface, even though she was certain she wouldn’t. Kiran had never been the best swimmer, and she had enough alcohol in her size-zero body to fell a professional wrestler. Satisfied that she was safe, Ariana clutched the bell sleeve of her dress and used it to pluck the damaged phone off the asphalt so as not to leave fingerprints.
“Believe what?” Noelle was saying. “Kiran? Hell-o? Are you there?”
Her mouth dry, Ariana held the phone to her ear.
“Kiran? Kiran?” Noelle said. “I can hear you breathing.”
Ten million emotions rushed through Ariana’s chest and into her throat, choking her off with a sob. Noelle. She was hearing Noelle’s voice for the first time in years. It was all she could do not to laugh, not to cry, not to shout a million epithets at the girl who had played a role in so many of her perfect memories, and then taken away her entire life with one backstabbing move.
“Kir-an!” Noelle sang. “You have five seconds to sober up and speak before I hang up. Five . . . four . . . three . . . two—”
Ariana pressed her covered thumb into the end button. Then she took her first breath in a good two minutes and tossed the phone over the side of the bridge. With that, Ariana quickly started to walk, not wanting to be spotted lingering at the scene of her latest crime any longer than she had to.
As she reached the far side of the bridge, Ariana took one long, deep breath, and a single tear slid down her cheek, cutting a river in her stark white makeup. Then she rolled her shoulders back, lifted her head, and walked away.