Chapter Fifty Willa

Chapter Fifty

Willa

Five months later

June gloom puts a damper on graduation day at Warner Prep. A cloudless gray sky provides the background for all our selfies and posed lineups with proud parents, the bright yellow-gold of our tassels flapping in the cool breeze. It reminds me for one fleeting moment of that weekend in Colorado. It's hard to escape the shadow of that horror. There was a moment of silence for our fallen classmates and guidance counselor during the ceremony. A whole spread in the yearbook.

Plus, the podcast.

MurderGals Present: Murder on the Mountain —a special six-episode series—premiered last month to record streams, and there's already talk of a limited series for Peacock. Plus, some Wall Street Journal reporter has been circling, wanting to write a book. Just as Piper predicted. This time they'll get the truth—most of it, at least.

It's been a whirlwind, to say the least. Being airlifted off the mountain, the reunion with our teary and panicked parents, questioning from the authorities, the hunt for Delaney…and then the funerals.

But today is a day of celebration. I remind myself of that as I thread my fingers through Liam's and we step inside his parents' house. They've pulled out all the stops. Our graduation soiree is fully catered, with a live band and dance floor out back.

"Do I look okay?" I smooth down my kelly-green cocktail dress. Even though I've met his mother half a dozen times now, I can't help but feel self-conscious.

"You're perfect."

Liam's approval is the sunshine missing from the sky. We're okay now; the past is water under the bridge. Noah's accident, my guilt, not telling Liam sooner. He's forgiven me, and I him. He was under Delaney's spell. Now he's not.

We do the rounds inside, making polite small talk with other seniors, their parents, and our teachers. The infamy of our Senior Excursion looms large, but Liam and I are practiced in volleying veiled references and awkward comments. We're a team.

"We leave for Florida tomorrow."

I return from the punch bowl and come upon Liam telling a small group of unfamiliar adults about our summer plans. I hand him a ruby-hued cup and link our arms together.

"It's a thirteen-night transatlantic cruise, followed by three weeks in Italy," Liam explains. It was a graduation gift from his parents, a lavish family vacation. I'm part of the family now. And then in the fall…

"And where are you headed for college, Willa?" a friend of Liam's parents asks politely.

"Oh, she's coming to Yale with me." Liam beams, which sets me off. The grin twins.

It's like a dream come true. After everything that happened, things just fell into place. The replacement guidance counselor wrote an addendum to my deferred application, and come April there was a Yale bulldog in my email.

I qualified for middle-class financial aid, and Liam's parents kindly offered to cover the difference. Our families have come together in so many ways since the tragedy. Both Liam and me attending Yale makes it easier in so many ways, especially being able to see the same trauma counselor at school. Piper's taking a gap year (or four, she jokes) but has promised to visit. She's not at the party—missed graduation altogether. There was an appointment at a special genome-sequencing clinic in Minnesota she couldn't skip.

The conversation glides on, but my brain snags on Yale. Yale and Delaney. We managed to keep it out of the press, the real reason for her murder spree. Me sending that video and her acceptance being rescinded. The last thing anyone wants is my future alma mater being dragged into this mess. Who would believe it, anyway? Delaney, the kind of person she is, her brand of sociopathic petty, is hard to explain. You had to know her. Intimately.

I shiver, the frigid cold of that weekend slicing through me like a bad memory.

Liam notices, because he always notices, and slides his jacket over my shoulders without a second thought.

"Let's get away from the crowd." He nuzzles my earlobe, gives my shoulders a reassuring squeeze. As we walk across the manicured gardens, I feel a buzz in my pocket. A new text. The preview reads:

Congrats on gradu…

I don't recognize the number. Probably one of my uncles or cousins I never remember to add as a contact. I tap into my text app and read the full message.

Congrats on graduation. And I heard you got into Yale. That's a big win for you.

I still have no clue who it is, so I reply with a generic Thanks so much!

Almost as soon as I've replied, they fire a new missive.

One question, though…

Here it comes. Some rude inquiry about that weekend from whatever distant relative this is. Or asking for tips on how Cousin Meg can get into Yale next year. It might even be Meg, reaching out herself.

But then the follow-up comes through.

It's not Meg.

I read the question over and over, until the words blur and my mind races.

Did you ever wonder why the Visine was in his pocket in the first place?

It takes me a minute to unravel the message. And then it comes flooding back: Liam's red hoodie with the small bottle tucked inside. The convenience of having the perfect tool to subdue Delaney, but I never actually saw Liam use the drops.

I googled the symptoms of tetrahydrozoline poisoning after that week. Headache, nausea and vomiting, nervousness, weakness, altered mental state, to name a few. I wanted to know what I'd done to Delaney. If she could have died after running off into the snowy wilderness.

Funny how Visine poisoning sounds a lot like altitude sickness. It might be difficult to tell the difference.

"Wills, hey. You okay?" Liam's brows knit with such concern, and he doesn't hesitate to pull me close, kiss my forehead ever so softly. He's so gentle, so caring. Liam could never…could he?

And Delaney absolutely would let slip what video I'd cued up for Noah on my phone at the party. And maybe Liam would want revenge. Not murder. But maybe he would indulge a girl with a hopeless crush and decide to mess with her mind as well as her heart. His original revenge plan.

Maybe, in the midst of a murder spree, that boy thought, What if…

What if he slipped just a few drops of Visine from his med kit into her cocoa? Cocoa with extra marshmallows. Just the way she liked it. No one would ever know. They'd blame whoever was hunting them down in that house. Declan had been poisoned, too, after all.

And maybe he changed his mind, came to his senses, realized he wasn't a murderer. It was easy to explain her symptoms away after the fact.

Altitude sickness.

Then carbon monoxide poisoning.

Liam didn't choose me. I was all that was left.

I peer down at my phone, blinking back tears so he doesn't see. There's another message now, under the others. A greeting from an old friend.

Have an amazing time on your cruise, babe. Arrivederci D

Because Delaney Moss always has to win.

And she loves the long game.