I glance around the room. “Is everyone else all right?” I ask as Sybil gathers the soiled wipes into a little garbage bag.
Sybil’s dark eyes study me closely. “Yes. Minor bumps and bruises, a few cuts, a sore neck. You ladies were lucky. It could have been a lot worse.” Their words ring hollow to me for some reason, and in the back of my mind, I can hear the screech of metal being torn apart as it grinds against rock. I shake my head to clear the noise.
The group seems to come to the consensus that, while this was not our intended pit stop of San Luis Obispo, a beach is a beach, and we shouldn’t lose the whole day—not that we have any choice in the matter without the bus. Cat, who was on edge before, seems more relaxed after spending an hour here. I’m less worried about getting on the road, or even where the bus driver is. Still, the driver’s absence is nagging at me. Perhaps Essos has a study he’s resting in.
“You're a good friend,” Sybil says as they rise, bringing me back to the moment. Gingerly, Sybil takes Cat’s hand and wraps it tight with an ace bandage before placing a fresh ice pack over it. Then they continue their rounds with the remaining girls.
By the time I decide to ask after the driver, Essos is walking away with Sybil. Having seen the hallway they turned down, I follow them, catching their whispers as I slip in behind them. The grey dog who is with them swings his head toward me but doesn’t alert them to my presence.
“Tonight, over dinner, we can tell them. I want them to enjoy today. Their existence here seems to be soothing their frayed nerves, but I can hardly imagine they will be pleased once they find out. Their whole world is different now.” Essos sounds matter-of-fact. The words are turning over in my head, and I wonder what they could mean.
“And that one girl? She keeps asking to call her boyfriend.”
Essos sighs deeply at the mention of Tiffany, who has asked every single person for a phone so she can call Steve. Although, she does seem less worried about it the longer that we’re here.
The more I think about it, the less concerned everyone seems. Conversations about getting back on the bus to get to Santa Monica have stopped and instead the focus is on how gorgeous the house is and where Essos’s money might have come from. Everyone’s posture is relaxed, and the emotional stress from the near-accident has melted away. It’s as if we didn’t almost crash—as if this was our intended destination all along.
“Send it to voicemail. In the meantime, please keep them all entertained as best you can. The longer we can go without questions, or anyone trying to use their phone, the better.” He seems to have a lightbulb moment. “Actually, I take it back—I’ll allow it to seem like their Wi-Fi is on. That should satisfy their need to ‘gram’ everything—just ensure that any outgoing calls go to voicemail.”
I’m holding my breath, desperate not to alert them to my presence, but I’m sure they can hear my heart thrumming in my chest. Keep us entertained? So far, they haven’t done anything to make me think that their motives are different than what they say, but this conversation makes me wonder if things aren’t as they appear.
Slowly, I release my breath. I’ve been listening to too many true crime podcasts with Cat. As soon as we get home, those are coming off our queue, because they have me looking at everyone and everything with skepticism and concern.
I exhale and unclench my hands, which had formed into fists. I need someone rational to talk this out with, and while it might be her idea to watch all the murder shows, Cat has a level head on her shoulders.
“Yes, my lord.” Sybil bows, and Essos waves a hand dismissively before striding down the hall into the darkness.
CHAPTER3
Ihurry back to the group, the words I just heard replaying in my head. My heart slams wildly in my chest at the risk of getting caught, even as I flee. Regardless of how I try to rationalize the conversation, it was weird, and I have no idea what to make of it.
Cat is now sitting with Tiffany and Zara on a couch in the grand room. Most of the girls are all clustered with their usual subset of friends. A few stand around chatting, while others admire the grandiose room and decorations. The sisters of Epsilon Lambda Delta are all calm as they mingle and take selfies, and I wonder if it was all in my head—the conversation, the severity of the accident, my worries.
A phantom pressure grips my chest, and it’s like I’m drowning. Could I be having a panic attack?
No. I’m overreacting to some nonsense and the scare of an almost crash. Talking to Cat will bring me back to earth. She’s talked me down before, when I’ve been preparing for a big test and freaking out. This is just like that.
“I just think it’s so nice of him to give us the run of his mansion,” Zara says, digging through her bag and pulling out her lip gloss. Her long, dark, wavy hair hangs loose over her shoulder. Zara has spent her life looking like she should be on the catwalks of Paris without any effort needed. Her good looks often lead people to underestimate her, but after she tutored me in statistics, I never made that mistake again. Her hair doesn’t even look ruffled, and her curtain bangs are still perfectly parted just above her eyebrows. Without needing to check a mirror, she applies the gloss to her full lips. I’ve always admired her ability to turn people’s expectations on their heads, but she can be such an asshole about it that I’ve never said as much to her.
Though she and Cat are pledge sisters, Zara and I have never seen eye to eye. I went out with some guy she was interested in, and while it was only one date that didn’t evolve into more, in Zara’s mind, I should have known she was interested and stayed away. Personally, I think I did her a favor—he spent the whole time talking about himself, and he kissed like a fish.
“I want to call Steve and tell him that we’re going to be late. Otherwise, he’ll be distracted during his match looking for us.” Tiffany holds up her phone trying to find a signal, only to continue to be disappointed.
“Since there doesn’t seem to be a Mrs. Essos, I think I’ll make sure our host sees the goods. I would be plenty happy to play house here,” Zara says with an eyebrow wiggle before running off to take advantage of a bathroom to primp in.
The mental image of Essos and Zara entwined causes my stomach to drop. I lock eyes with Cat, and she rolls hers.
I need to get her alone to tell her what I heard. I know I can trust Cat to see sense.
Sybil comes over to us, offering to show Tiffany to a room where she can make her call, and slowly everyone moves off to change and get outside.
Cat gets up as well, and I grab her wrist. “I’ll come with you.” I grab my bag and follow her to one of the bathrooms. We both slip into the room, and I lock the door behind me. Catalina opens her mouth, and I clamp my hand over it as I turn on the faucet, hoping the water will drown out my words if someone is listening. I lean close to her and tell her about the conversation I overheard.
“I went to ask after the driver, but then I overheard Essos and Sybil talking. He said that they should make sure we’re happy. The two of them are going to break some news to us over dinner, and they’re somehow turning on fake Wi-Fi and sending Tiffany’s call to voicemail. None of this makes sense. Why does he think we’re going to be here till dinner? Shouldn’t the bus be here well before then?” The words rush out like I can’t get them out fast enough. “What time is it even?” With my phone out of commission, I have no idea.
I watch as she digests what I’ve said. Her lips purse as she starts to take off her clothes and root around in her bag before pulling out her carefully curated one-piece swimsuit with a cut-out side.
I sit on the counter, and my back gets splashed by the water while I wait for her to respond. “What are you doing? Didn’t you hear what I just said?”