She headed into the walk-in pantry and rummaged around for a moment. “I’ve got cheesy tortilla chips, extra-hot salsa, black licorice, and salted pistachios. All pretty strong-tasting stuff to help wash out the taste in your mouth.”
“Cool.” I nodded toward the island counter. “Just dump it all there.”
“What have you found?”
“Leftover saag paneer, bean and haloumi casserole, raspberry soda, and a jar of pickles. Oh, and this chocolate fudge cake Maeve made the other day.”
Erin grinned. “All right. Let’s feast,” she said, perching on a stool. She eyed the spread on the counter. “Gotta say, though, this is the weirdest feast I’ve ever seen.”
“Hey, as long as it works, it’s cool with me.” I dug into the saag paneer and shoved a heaped spoonful into my mouth. It was delicious, but after I chewed and swallowed it, I could still taste the snickerdoodles in my mouth. I knew it wasn’t real—just a horrible psychological effect—but it was awful all the same.
Erin’s forehead creased. “Did it work?”
“No,” I said, shoulders slumping. “I’ll try the pickles next. Then the cake. At least I know it tastes good even if it doesn’t work.”
Erin quietly scrolled through her phone as she chewed on a tortilla chip. “Here’s something slightly positive,” she said a moment later, sliding the phone over to me. “It might make you feel a bit better.”
I could see the Dirt app on her screen. I abruptly turned away. “I don’t want to see that.”
“No, seriously, look. It’s the comments section. It looks like everyone’s already figured out that you were tricked into eating those cookies.”
My brows rose. “How?”
“Someone pointed out that the girl in the photos has a French manicure, and you never do anything with your nails. Also, a bunch of people from your English class posted about you vomiting in class after you saw the post. So you obviously didn’t know what was in the cookies, because if you did, why would you be shocked to the point of throwing up everywhere?”
“Oh.” I nodded glumly. “Right.”
“I know it’s not much, but hey… at least everyone knows you aren’t a cannibal, I guess.”
I gave Erin a sarcastic thumbs up. “Just what every girl wants to hear.”
She frowned. “I just thought of something. How did Cerina know your favorite cookies are snickerdoodles?” she asked, cocking her head. “I never mentioned it to anyone.”
“I think she might’ve overheard us talking about it. Remember in our archery class a while ago, I told you I wanted snickerdoodles and boxed wine at the party?” I said. “Cerina was there. So were Bobbi and Nate, actually. So they could’ve told her if she didn’t hear it herself.”
“Oh, that’s right.” Erin slowly shook her head. “It’s crazy how much information these assholes have managed to get on you. Like, seriously, the fucking Stasi would be jealous of their intel-gathering skills.”
“I know,” I said bitterly. “I just can’t believe they’d use it against me like this. Even after all the other horrible stuff they’ve done.”
“I know. I’m so sorry.”
“I think I should quit,” I said, voice going husky as I tried to stop myself from crying. “If I tell my mom what’s going on, she might let me go back to Oakland and stay with Jess’s family. I can finish my senior year there.”
“No! You can’t leave,” Erin said, sliding her stool closer to mine. “You can’t let these assholes win.”
I swallowed the last bite of my pickle and grabbed a cake knife from the drawer. “They’ve already won,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. “I mean, how can it possibly get any worse than this?”
Erin’s face darkened. “God, I hate this so much,” she said, jaw clenching. “You’ve never done anything to any of these people. What the fuck is their problem?”
Tears were freely sliding down my face now. “I don’t know,” I said. “But I hate them all.” Before Erin could reply, my face crumpled, and I buried my head in my hands on the counter, chest heaving. “They made me eat my dad’s ashes, Erin,” I choked out between sobs. “My fuckingdad.How evil can they possibly be?”
“I know. It’s so fucked up.”
“I can still taste it.” I heaved another sob. “Even after all this other food, it’s still there, stuck to the roof of my mouth.”
“I know. I wish I could do more to help.” She rubbed my back in slow, soothing circles and sighed. “I guess we could try to think about it this way—at least we know things can’t get any worse now.”
“Yeah. That’s one way of looking at it,” I muttered, lifting my head. “Although knowing them, itwillget worse. They’ll probably murder you just so I won’t have any friends here.”