15. Logan

15LOGAN

Hot afternoon sun shines through the window and onto McKayleigh’s empty, perfectly made bed. I have no idea where she is right now—probably moping around the beach, doing everything she can to make us feel bad for her, even though she’s the one who should be apologizing.

I curl onto my side and sink deeper into my bed. If Harper were here, she’d jokingly quote one of the “inspirational” phrases we found when we stalked Dad’s girlfriend on Instagram. Smile, it’s free therapy! Or my personal least favorite, Be like a pineapple: stand tall, wear a crown, and be sweet on the inside. I’d throw a pillow at Harper and say, only if my citric acid gives Sheila reflux.

Right now, though, I’d even settle for McKayleigh’s company. At least I’d have something to distract me from this shit show of a day.

There’s a knock on the door, like I summoned her. With a groan, I roll out of bed and open the door, but it’s not McKayleigh. It’s Graham.

“Um, hey?”

“Can we talk?”

I make a show of looking out into the empty hallway. “Huh. Didn’t realize you could do that without Zane’s hand up your ass.”

Graham rolls his eyes and walks into the room, closing the door behind him. “Now, Logan, you’ll never find a husband with that attitude. So vulgar.”

It’s an echo of our old friendship, and it thaws my icy heart by a few degrees.

“Good. Maybe I want to be alone forever. I’ll become an elderly spinster with, like, a pet parrot that I teach all my favorite curse words.”

He laughs, sitting on the edge of McKayleigh’s bed. “You looking for roommates? Because that sounds low-key better than my current living arrangement.”

I sit on my own bed, nervous again at the mention of the Bounce House. “Okay, as much as we all love discussing my marriage prospects, I get a vibe that’s not why you’re here.”

Graham picks at his nail polish, staring down at his hands, and then looks up at me. “You can’t keep making a scene.”

Ice hardens again in my chest. Making a scene, like I always do. Poor, dramatic Logan who can’t keep her stupid emotions in check.

“Logan…”

“No,” I tell him. “Fine. Whatever.”

“Come on. Just—throwing the plate at Cole last night, and then earlier, telling everyone your statement was a lie … something really messed up is happening here. We have to keep it together.”

Graham’s eyes are wide and pleading under his thick eyelashes. The worst part is, he looks like he’s actually worried about me.

I look away. “I mean, if we’re talking about making a scene, I’m pretty sure McKayleigh won the Oscar today.”

He laughs humorlessly. “Well, yeah, but…”

“Cool. Then are we done here?”

Graham’s quiet for a second, collecting himself. “Look, this ‘Sponsor’ stuff. The folders. Maybe it’s all some kind of elaborate joke, but I don’t think so anymore. They exposed McKayleigh on Instagram. Her career might be literally ending as we speak, and she can’t do anything about it.”

“Are you saying she didn’t deserve that? Because no offense, but I think that’s bullshit.”

“No, she definitely deserved it. But that doesn’t change what it means for the rest of us.” Graham looks at me, desperate. “Cole’s dead, and—”

“You think I don’t know there’s a body out there?”

A body.The word tastes vile in my mouth, poisonous.

“I know,” Graham breathes. “But we need to remember we’re in this together.”

A shot of nervous energy jolts through me, coming out as a sharp laugh. Because it’s so obvious that we’re not. What we are now feels so far away from in this together, it’s on a whole different planet. We’re light-years away from the Graham who used to be my best friend, who never failed to surprise me—Graham, who could be so quiet one second and then, two shots later, tearing up the dance floor with his flawless rendition of Lady Gaga’s “Judas” choreography. Graham, who I really thought would at least answer my late-night calls after I left, when I missed my friends and the world felt too heavy. Graham, who blocked me just like the rest of them.

“Logan, please.”

I clench my teeth. “Fine. I won’t make a scene anymore. Promise.”

Graham watches me for a second, and then stands, brushing himself off like McKayleigh’s bed wasn’t totally pristine. He starts toward the door, but then stops.

“What?” I ask.

“I don’t want to sound like I’m accusing you, or—”

“Graham, what?”

He takes a breath. “Did you tell anyone?”

It’s like a kick in my stomach, but I force out an answer. “No.”

“Okay. Sorry. I just…” Graham looks up at the camera on the wall and lowers his voice. “If Tilly, or whoever this Sponsor person is—if they know, then how did they find out?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him, my throat burning. “Why don’t you go ask one of your friends?”

Graham looks at me like he’s going to say something else. Like maybe he’s even hurt. But instead, he dips his head and leaves without a word. I lock the door behind him.

Tears sting my eyes. Just as I’m about to climb into bed and give into them, my watch dings with a new message.

Want to make a real scene?

Shock roots me to the floor. A scene. Wait, were they listening to me and Graham just now? I look up at one of the cameras on the wall, the blinking red dot. Adrenaline shoots through my veins. Did everyone else get this message? What the hell do I—

Another message.

Let’s keep this one between us for now, Logan

But check your backpack

There’s something in there you’ll want to see