Chapter Thirty-Five Naomi

Chapter Thirty-Five

Naomi

January 2023, four months before her death

It’s the day of the BAC show, fifteen minutes before showtime, and thirty of us are packed into the dressing room. Zee won’t stop talking about the lighting and last-minute changes to the choreography, as everyone jockeys for mirror space.

“You nervous?” my friend Chichi asks as she applies a plum lipstick.

“Yeah.” My nerves are firing like crazy, but it’s not because of the show. We’ve rehearsed for months, and I could do the choreo in my sleep.

Something else is on my mind. My meeting with DuPont and his strange suggestion: Why don’t you ask your sister? After all, she was theretoo.

My sister couldn’t have had anything to do with Lila’s death. I’ll just talk to her tonight, in person, and she’ll clear everything up. I couldn’t call because Amy has grown convinced our emails are being watched and they’ve found a way to listen in on our phone calls. She says it happens to journalists all the time.

“House lights are out! Show’s starting!” someone yells.

I join the prayer circle for Zee’s pump-up speech.

“We have been preparing for this since September, y’all. We got this. Let’s go out there and dance full out, leave it all onstage. For a lot of us, this is one of our last shows. Do you hear them?” We listen to the rumble of the audience. “We seniors might not perform again after tonight. So please, remember your choreo, hit your marks, don’t be nervous. We got this.” She cups a hand to her mouth. “B-A-C, B-A-C WHAT?”

“No one does hip-hop better than us!” Cheers all around me. I try to smile, but my thoughts are still on my sister. Focus, Naomi. Focus.

I draw in a slow, steady breath and head backstage.

—

I wait in the wings until the lights come up and the music starts. Zee starts center stage with a quick solo. Then other dancers join her.

When it’s my cue, I lift my chin and march out confidently, smiling at the audience. We have a lot of friends here tonight, and the crowd is overwhelming. I hear my name and look down, hoping to see Liam, even though I haven’t spoken to him in weeks—he’d disappeared again, but he promised to be here, and so I thought it would be him.

But it’s Ben, who sits next to several of his teammates in the front row, cheering for me, since I don’t think he knows anyone else in the dance group. Ben, who I’d thought hated me at this point. We hadn’t spoken since that day I ran into him on Nassau Street when he’d told me I was making a mistake. It’s sweet to see him here.

The beat drops, and we find our places in our pyramid formation. I start in the back. We move in unison. Shoulders side to side, twisting our torsos. Winding our hips, chests thrusting up and down like they’re separate from our bodies. We reach my favorite part, where we tilt our heads forward and whip our hair right, left. The lights dip to black. This is my cue to sneak forward, to the front.

Crouching low, the formation parts for me. I make my way to the front in the dark. The blood pumps through my veins. The audience waits, holding their breath. Then with a deafening boom, the stage lights come on: a spotlight right on me as I whip my head back, arching my back as I drop my knees to the floor. Everyone is watching me. I dance full out, heart thudding, pouring everything I have into the movement.

During a slower part of the choreo, I scan the theater.

There’s Liam—at the front of the upper deck. I look up at him and smile. He catches my eye and smiles back. Half of me wants to be angry with him for disappearing again, but the other half is glad to see him anyway.

Margaret is sitting upright as usual, hands folded in her lap. When she sees me, she smiles and holds up a sign that reads I love you Naomi . I nod and hope she knows how much it means to me that she’s here.

I scan the crowd again, running my eyes past every face. They’re into the performance. Some are clapping, others hollering for their friends, and it feels good seeing so many different faces in the crowd.

But my heart sinks as I realize the one person missing…Maya.

—

I dance four more pieces over the next three hours. It’s the best I’ve ever performed.

In the dressing room, Zee comes up to me and slaps me on the back. “Hey, good work out there. You killed it.”

I force myself to look at her. She’s smiling big, clearly stoked with how the show went.

“Thanks. Your choreo was dope. I’m sad it’s over.”

“Me too.” She pours some champagne into a paper cup. Hands it to me. “Hey, I might go to a Sterling alum’s birthday in the city later if you want to come. It’s gonna be lit. They rented out a restaurant in the Village with a massive rooftop. DJ. Open bar…”

—

After Zee leaves, I sit on a stool in the changing room, staring blankly at my reflection. After the show, Liam had finally texted me back: I’m sorry, the past couple of weeks were hell. I promise I’ll explain if you let me. I’d been sitting here when I got that text, all the dancers bubbling around me about the show, gathering their things. They’d since filtered out to the after-party, leaving behind flower petals, glitter, feathers, forgotten earrings.

I blink, and my reflection blinks back. She’s confident…smart…so what is wrong with me? Why don’t I feel whole?

“Naomi.” Liam’s voice makes me look up. He’s standing in the doorway holding a bouquet of blush-colored roses, and all the anger I’d saved up for him vanishes.

I smile, playfully. “Liam Alexander the Third buys flowers ?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it.”

I stand and give him a hug. “Thanks for coming.”

He hands me the flowers and studies my face, sensing my sadness. “What’s wrong?”

“My sister was supposed to come, but she’s not here.” My sister had been more distant than Liam. Maybe she’s the one I should be upset with. I set the flowers down on the table and pour myself a glass of champagne. “Want one?”

Liam shakes his head. “You hungry? Want to get dinner?”

I shrug. I don’t feel like eating. “Zee said there’s a birthday party for one of the Sterling alums in the city, I think I might go.”

“I heard about that. But do you really want to go into the city tonight? It’ll take us at least a couple hours.”

I grin. “Not on a motorcycle.”

—

Riding on the back of Liam’s motorcycle is exhilarating. My body is pressed against his, heart racing and eyes squeezed shut as we weave in and out of traffic.

“You okay back there?” Liam shouts above the wind.

“Yeah,” I reply, pretending not to be as scared as I am. I’m holding on to Liam’s waist, my eyes closed behind the helmet visor. I’ve only been on his motorcycle once—the night he’d found me at Lake Carnegie and gave me a ride back to the dorms—and we’d gone twenty miles an hour on a residential street. This…is very different.

“ What? ”

I open my eyes to an overwhelming blur of red and white lights streaking past, cool air and diesel exhaust in my nostrils. We’re soaring, my blood pumping with adrenaline, my fingers numb from gripping onto him so tight. “I said, yeah, I’m good! ”

He presses harder on the gas, and we zoom past a moving van and into the mouth of the Lincoln Tunnel, the one-and-a-half-mile stretch of concrete that connects New Jersey and New York City. Once we’re past several cars, I stand up, holding on to his shoulders, legs trembling, the wind sending my hair flying.

“ What are you doing? ” Liam yells. “ You trying to get us killed? ”

I laugh and sit back down, leaning forward and saying into his ear, “Come on, live a little.”

He shakes his head and takes off, but I can tell he’s smiling.

He turns on the radio, and a familiar Cat Burns song booms from the speakers. The one playing the first time we’d kissed in Sterling Club.

“Hey, turn it up.” He does, and the feeling I get is pure magic. I lift my arms into the air and let out a scream.

—

When we arrive at the address Zee gave us, my heart is still hammering in my chest. I watch as Liam takes his helmet off and unzips his jacket.

“So what’d you think of the bike?”

I shrug. “Eh.”

“Eh? What do you mean eh ?”

I grin, pushing my hair out of my face, and lean in to kiss him. “I’m joking, it was awesome.” He pulls me against him and kisses me back hard, sending a current of electricity rushing through me.

—

The rooftop deck is filled with Greystone alumni, a mix of New York finance types and artists.

I scan the crowd. “Zee should be here somewhere.”

We find her by the bar, taking a shot with a random guy.

“Zee!”

“You made it!” I can tell she’s already tipsy. She throws her arms around me. “This is Calum. He’s class of 2017.”

“Calum Fuller.” Wait—isn’t that the man DuPont said had a job for me? He holds out a hand. He’s got whitish hair, dark bags under his eyes, and pale, sickly skin.

I take his hand. “Naomi Mason, nice to finally meet you. Professor DuPont told me about you.”

“Naomi! A pleasure. You know, your sister tutored me when I was in high school.” He lets out a laugh, remembering. “She’s a genius. Helped me out big-time. Glad to be able to return the favor.”

What is he talking about? What favor?

“I’ll tell her hi for you. Uh, this is—”

“Liam Alexander,” Liam says, shaking the man’s hand.

“Ah…are you related to a Liam Alexander, class of ’85?” Calum asks.

“My father.” An emotion clouds Liam’s eyes. He doesn’t talk much about his father.

Calum nods. “Our fathers were roommates. Ask him about Colin Fuller. Sounds like they got in a whole lot of trouble back then. Get him to tell you how they got Bethany Park hosed. ” Hosed was the term used for a student who got rejected from an eating club they’d bickered. It was a cruel form of social ostracism.

Liam grimaces.

Next to him, Zee grows impatient. She holds up a shot glass. “Are we doing this or what?”

After they take shots, I put my arm around Zee, who is draping herself over some random guy, and drag her away. “Who the hell is that and where is Trey?”

Zee leans her arm onto my shoulder, making me stumble under her weight. She’s really drunk. “We broke up after the show.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

Zee waves a hand through the air. “He’s stupid. It’s fine. I don’t even care. But I wasn’t flirting with Sean. We’ve been friends since before I knew Trey. Why’s he got to be like that?”

“Just talk to him, he’ll be okay.”

“No, you know what, I’m done.” She swings around and we run into someone, their drink spilling over my shoulder.

“Okayyy. How about we get some water?”

“That’s the most borrring idea I’ve ever hearrrrd,” she slurs.

My phone vibrates in my bag. “Fine. Hold on, just wait a minute,” I tell Zee as I retrieve it. It’s a text from Amy: It’s happening! The police are reopening the Lila Jones case!

Oh my god. She did it. They reopened the case. That means—maybe DuPont is a suspect. Maybe they found new evidence. I feel a ripple of excitement.

I need to tell someone about this. I try to locate Liam, but I see him on the other side of the party talking to Professor DuPont. A woman clutches DuPont’s arm possessively. She wears a cropped fur jacket and silk dress, blond hair swept into a chignon, and there’s a feline quality to her movements. She must have sensed my gaze because suddenly, she turns and looks directly at me, her eyes narrowing. I quickly look away. “Naomi!” Zee is now dancing, or trying to, her bag falling off her shoulder as she pulls me toward the DJ. “Come onnnnn. I lovvvve this song.”

Zee is now halfway to the dance floor and I have no choice but to follow.

I dance next to Zee, thoughts consumed by Amy’s message, keeping an eye on Liam over her shoulder. Zee’s arms flop overhead, her eyes closed as she sways to the music.

“Zee,” I say, and she looks at me blankly. I point her body toward DuPont. “Do you know anything about DuPont’s fiancée?”

She laughs. “Ohhh, her. Some actress, I think? She’s got to be fifteen years younger than him. I heard she dated Timothée Chalamet before he was with Kylie Jenner.”

There’s something captivating about her. I wonder how well she knows her fiancé…and what she’d do if she found out what he did.

—

While Zee is in the bathroom, I find Liam getting another drink at the bar. “Saw you talking to DuPont. That woman is his fiancée, right? What’s she like? Zee said she was an actress?”

“Sara? Yeah…she’s pretty well-known on Broadway, I think. Won a Tony last year.” He glances in their direction. “I’ve met her a few times. She reminds me of my dad’s ex-wife. She’s…intense.” He raises an eyebrow. “I’d keep my distance if I were you.”

“Why?”

“I’ve just seen her get protective around girls like you.”

I’m about to ask him what he means by that when my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I wonder if it’s Amy with more news.

“Who’s that?”

I look up at Liam. I hide my phone instinctively and am about to play it off, but then again…he is in Greystone. His father was too. I wonder if he might know anything that would be useful.

“Hey…did you know that Greystone has ski cabins? Up in New Hampshire? Apparently we can’t use them anymore because something happened to a girl—”

With surprising force, Liam grabs my elbow and yanks me away from the crowd. “Are you insane?”

I tear my elbow out of his grasp. “ What? ”

He glances over his shoulder. “Why are you asking me about that?”

“Why not?”

He sighs. Lowers his voice. “I’m going to tell you something…but you have to promise not to mention it again, especially not around these people.”

“Fine.”

“My father told me someone’s been contacting some of his friends—other Greystone alums—asking questions about that…incident. Please tell me it’s not you.” He hesitates. “You of all people aren’t going to want that to come out.”

I grow nervous as Liam searches his phone. What does he mean, me of all people? How much does he know about the investigation? Does he know Amy’s behind it?

Liam finds what he’s looking for and turns the screen toward me.

My heart misses a beat when I see it: a picture of my sister and her friends in ski gear, arms wrapped around each other. Daisy, Cecily, Kai, Maya…and…next to my sister stands another girl, one I’ve only seen in the black-and-white article about her—here, she’s striking with pale skin and long red hair. Lila. So DuPont had been telling the truth when he said Maya was there…and all of her friends too. I thought again about that whispered conversation I’d heard at Margaret’s so many years ago as I study Lila’s face in the picture. “It’s her.”

Liam nods. “This was taken that weekend. Your sister was involved.”

I look at him, chest tightening. “Where did you get this?”

“It doesn’t matter. Look, whatever happened, Greystone hid it for a reason. You need to stay out of it. And if you’re the one asking questions—stop. You have no idea what kind of shit you’re getting yourself into.”

I pull back from him, frowning.

“I’m serious,” he says, and in his eyes is a fear so pronounced it chills me to my core.

—

Shaken from Liam’s warning, I walk through the party in search of a quiet corner to call Amy when my phone vibrates. Several missed calls from Zee, and a voicemail.

Naomiiiii, where are you? Guess who texted me—just guess—Trey. Yup, he did, but I ignored him. And I found my new friend and we took shots and now I’m goooood. But I’m gonna leave okay? My feet hurt, and my phone’s about to die—

Shit. I scan the crowd for Zee, but all I see are unfamiliar faces. No sign of her anywhere.