Chapter Sixteen Willa

Chapter Sixteen

Willa

Now: Saturday, 8:00 a.m.

"What do you mean, we're trapped?" is Eden's first question, one we're all screaming inside. I'm shaking so badly Liam has to grab my hands, hold them both in his to steady me. The comfort is short-lived. Delaney looks our way and Liam pulls away. It's our well-practiced dance. Del's propensity for jealousy trumps all.

Never mind that I am, in fact, sleeping with her boyfriend. My stomach turns over.

Ms. Silva squirms under our hot gazes. It's seven against one.

"I went out this morning to inspect the storm damage. We're completely snowed in. The drifts are five, six feet? Road's completely blocked." She wrings her hands. "Not that it matters. We can't call out, so there's no one to reach even if they could get here by car."

"We still have power, though," Camille points out.

"Luckily," Silva says.

For now hangs in the air. Outside, powdery snow dances down from the heavens. But is it dying down or is this the calm before another storm? The skin on the back of my neck prickles.

"We have to do something. We can't just sit here." Piper gestures at Ms. Silva. "You're the adult. You should go get help."

"Right," Silva says, then repeats it again, almost to herself. "I'll ski down the mountain. Shouldn't take too long? I hope."

Delaney eyes Silva like she's lost her mind. "You can't ski down the mountain. After this much fresh snowfall, poor visibility…the avalanche risk is too high. There's a shed out back. Surely this place has a snowmobile or something? You can use the roads."

"Yes," Silva says with a nod. "Of course. That's what I'll do.You're right—the welcome book did mention a snowmobile. How could I forget?" she says. "I'll take it down the mountain. You guys will be okay?" Silva lands each of us with a reassuring closed-lip smile.

But of course we're not okay. Declan's dead.

The question rattles around my skull. Who was the last person to see Declan alive?

I didn't see anything, but I did hear. As I was standing on the second-floor landing before scurrying higher. The crackle of a plastic cup and the slosh of liquid. Declan was so drunk—we all were, faster than usual at this altitude. He probably couldn't even taste the difference….

There was someone down there with him. I heard them on the stairs. But I can't tell the group: it would bring up the question of why I was on the second floor at all at two in the morning. Not to mention, I'm the one who cleared up the cups this morning. Trashing the evidence. Oh god. They'll either think it was me, or Delaney will find out about me and Liam. There are no good choices.

All there is to do is wait. The snow will stop. Ms. Silva will snowmobile to civilization; they'll come; we'll go home early. That's it. I cling to hope.

"Is that coffee?" Our chaperone perks at the smell. Delaney is already behind the kitchen island, quick to grab a mug and fill it with piping-hot joe, plus sugar and a bit of cream. The way her hand shakes as she hands Silva the concoction betrays that even she's barely keeping it together.

After sucking down her coffee and nibbling on a slice of toast, Ms. Silva bids us farewell like she's headed off to war, all solemn and falsely reassuring.

"There are plenty of books to read and board games in a closet downstairs if you need a distraction," she says. "And, Delaney, you're next on the food-prep rota. The recipes I had in mind are downstairs, if you want to come get them?"

She offers a final watery smile to the group and says, "I'll be back soon," before descending to the basement.

A few minutes later, Delaney returns with a small binder and an update. "She's gone."

Outside, the wind howls like a wounded beast, whipping so hard that the glass sliding door rattles on its hinges. I can't help thinking: This feels like a horror movie. What happens next doesn't help to dissipate the sensation.

"We should move the body downstairs," Piper says. Her practicality is disturbing.

"Ew, Piper. I'm trying to eat." Eden sits at the head of the dining room table with her mouth tightly pursed.

We're all pretending to eat, debating what to do with the body like a messed-up student council.

"That's an interesting suggestion, Piper, and one we should discuss," Delaney says like the Associate Student Body president she is.

As if on cue, I see Liam (ASB secretary) taking notes. I peek over. It's a to-do list. Check generator. Pack. And now he adds: Move body?

I'm ASB treasurer. Should I be crunching the numbers on the cost of therapy for all of us?

"It's easy to suggest moving a body when you don't have to help." Camille narrows her eyes at Piper's arm sling.

Piper barrels on. "I'm sorry. Would you like to continue living here with a dead body on the couch? Back me up, Liam?"

He sighs. "It's probably not a good idea to have him out in the open. Or in the heat."

My stomach does a somersault at the implication. As it is, the smell is off-putting. It will only get worse, since the central heating kicked in twenty minutes ago.

"What about destroying evidence, disturbing the scene?" Wyatt is almost frantic. "My dad is a lawyer and talks about that stuff all the time."

"Your dad is an entertainment attorney," Liam shoots back.

"It's okay, Wyatt. I, too, watch Law and Order. " Camille pats him on the arm patronizingly. "But in all seriousness, he may have a point. Though, does it matter when it's an accident?"

It wasn't an accident whispers in the back of my mind. I heard Declan snoring, didn't I? He was asleep, so it must have been someone else doing…something. And I already disturbed the scene, tampered with evidence. A fresh wave of nausea passes through me.

"If we're snowed in, even if the cops do come, how long will it take?" Delaney adds. "Liam's right—we can't have a body decaying ten feet away. The ski room should be cold enough, right, babe? Wyatt and Willa can help. You'll need the biggest and strongest people here." Delaney's gaze lasers through me with a glint of challenge.

Shut up, Delaney, I think. It used to get to me, the subtle digs about me being bigger than the other girls—how, oh, Delaney would love to lend me her dress, but it wouldn't fit, would it? Whatever, Del. Sure, I'm tall and kind of built like a linebacker (if linebackers had banging curves), but I'm strong, too. So, yeah, I'm the perfect choice to move a body. Challenge accepted.

After some experimental physics involving shoving and sliding and a lot of bed linens, the boys and I fashion a makeshift sheet stretcher with Liam and Wyatt manning the feet and with me at the head. Slowly but surely we shuffle toward the stairs and down to the basement, two hundred pounds of dead weight eye-wateringly difficult to manage. My forearms shake under the strain, and my palms begin to ache and cramp from gripping the sheet so hard.

Finally we grunt and groan our way into the frigid ski room in the basement, dropping Declan at the first opportunity by a pile of dusty boots.

"Should we move him"—I take a panting breath every few words—"closer to the windows?" I gesture to the far end of the long, narrow room, where crisp, bright light floods through the sliding glass double doors. It looks like there's a nook behind a stack of plastic bins where we could put him. Out of sight, out of mind. The encroaching chill of the outside pricks at the back of my neck, cooling the sweat collecting there.

"I'm not dragging my friend's body across the room, Willa," Wyatt snaps.

"I'm sure he's fine here," Liam says in a more reassuring tone. His brown eyes catch mine.

Another shuddering wave of panic dances up from my stomach, but I stay focused on Liam's face, remember my breathing, and soon I find my way back to fine.

Upstairs is less fine. We hear the commotion before we reach the landing.

"He was totally okay when I left him! I don't understand how this happened!" Eden has worked herself into a frenzy again, but no longer is she sad or in denial. Rage vibrates through her. "Who did this?"

Eden glares at Delaney, Camille, and Piper, all still at the table. But then she whips around, catching Wyatt, Liam, and me in her crosshairs. Reluctantly, we rejoin the group.

"Who gave him alcohol with nuts ?" Eden rails on. "Better yet, who brought it into this house in the first place?!"

They all turn to look at me. Well, except Piper, who has no clue.

"I brought in what you gave me," I say, hands up, palms out—a defensive posture. "Anyway, Camille found the Al'more in the pantry. It was already here."

"I can't believe this is happening," Delaney whines. She gestures for Liam to come to her, and he obeys like a loyal puppy. I seethe. But everyone else has swiveled on Camille. Now she's the one on the defensive.

"Sure, I found it, but I didn't know amaretto contains nuts! That's not on me. If Declan had a serious nut allergy, he should have been more careful," Camille asserts. "Especially when he was stupid enough to forget his EpiPen."

Everyone stares at her, open-mouthed.

"How could you say that?" Eden shouts. "He was your friend. And I thought you were mine."

"When your friend does something really stupid, you're allowed to comment on it."

"Would you like me to comment on all the stupid shit you've done, then? Because you know I could!" Eden's eyes flash whitehot.

Camille doesn't rise to the challenge. "Whatever." She sniffs. "I try to be more careful is all."

The tension hangs in the air.

"Maybe it was in his suitcase?" Wyatt breaks the silence, speaking as though the thought is dawning on him for the first time. "Maybe he forgot it was in his suitcase instead of his backpack, but then it was too late…." His eyes flick upward. "Should we check his bag?" Uncertainty tempers Wyatt's words.

"Does it matter now?" Liam says gently.

The sad truth settles heavily around us.

It was a series of unfortunate events, a chain reaction. Careless Declan forgetting to keep his EpiPen near, overly confident when Silva swore the whole house was allergen-free. A bottle of booze left behind by a previous guest, everyone drinking, careless with our limits. The stupid Never Have I Ever game ending messily, quickly.

Did I really hear what I heard? Snoring, crinkling, sloshing, shuffling…or maybe just the first part. Declan did this to himself in a sad, unfortunate accident. The creak on the stairs was an old house settling. They do that, don't they?

"What do we do now?" Liam verbalizes what we're all thinking. What do you do when you're stuck in a house after someone's died?

"I'm going back to bed. Maybe when I wake up, this nightmare will be over," Eden sniffs, then heads for the stairs.

I envy the idea, but I couldn't sleep if I tried. I pour myself a second coffee, determined to stay up until Silva is back with reinforcements.

"I guess I'll go shower and take a nap," Delaney announces. "Liam, you want to come?" But her boyfriend shakes his head, instead joining me by the coffeepot. Delaney tamps down the flicker of annoyance before Liam catches it, but I see. A perverse sense of triumph flares in my belly. Liam is all mine. For now, at least.

"If we're stuck inside, I'm going to try out the sauna," Camille says with a shrug. "Might as well."

Wyatt makes a beeline for the couch, and Declan's bag.

"Fuck it, I'm drinking." The last remnants of the Jack Daniel's slosh in the bottle as he waves it above his head.

"It's eight-thirty in the morning," Piper counters dryly.

Wyatt ignores her and goes to the kitchen for a glass.

Piper makes her own plan known: she pulls a battered paperback from an alcove under the stairs and is the first to brave the couch, though she approaches tentatively. Her nostrils flare in thought as she surveys the layout of the U shape before settling in a corner a good five feet from The Body Spot. There's a towel to mark where we found Declan, cordoning off the area, lest we forget.

Not that we'll ever forget.

No, I think this trip will be burned into our memories forever.