Nightstands were made for secrets. And Bel had more than most, so many that sheโd had to clear a shelf inside her wardrobe for the overspill, hidden behind her balled-up socks. And under the bed.
She opened the nightstand drawer, contents rattling as she did. Lip balms and hand sanitizers, a little saltshaker from Rosaโs Pizza, bookmarks, pens, one AirPodโthat one she felt real bad aboutโnail polish, a glove with the tag still on, a littleย ๏ฌgurine that might have been a Happy Meal toy, a tiny screwdriver and the black marble queen from the chessboard at Royalty Inn. Bel added one more secret to the pile: the scrunchie sheโd taken today o๏ฌย a freshmanโs desk in the science lab. The tug of shame as Bel welcomed it home, skin alive with the feeling, itchy and warm. Looking down at her menagerie of stolen things, each one small enough to hide in one hand.
Bel closed the drawer, hiding them away. Hidden but not gone. Things couldnโt get up and leave like that. Unless she was in a Pixar movie, and Bel was pretty sure she wasnโt.
She got into bed, making eye contact with the book waiting for her on top of the nightstand. The plot hadnโt really got going yetโa lot of backstoryโbut something exciting was going to happen soon. It had to: the title promised it.
She checked her phoneโnot for any messages, there wouldnโt be anyโย but to make sure sheโd set her alarm for school tomorrow.
Now that sheโd stopped rustling, she could hear the faint murmur of voices downstairs. It wasnโt the TV; Dadโs program hadย ๏ฌnished at ten. Someone must be here. Who was at their house this late?
Bel kicked the comforter o๏ฌ, crossed her room with light, barefoot steps and cracked the door. The voices growing clearer the farther she pushed it, standing half in and half out of her room, eyes on the glowing stairs.
Her dad was speaking now, in the living room below.
โโฆway too late, I donโt know why youโre saying this now. What happened? Did it not go well today, the interview?โ
โNo, it wasย ๏ฌne.โ
It was Uncle Je๏ฌ, she recognized his voice, but there was an edge to it that she didnโt often hear, an uneasiness.
โFine, I think. I answered everything. But I was nervous about accidentally saying something that made you look bad, so I thought about my answers carefully before I gave them, and Ramsey commented that I was taking my time. So maybe it looked like I was trying to hide something, I donโt know.โ
โBut you arenโt hiding anything,โย Charlie said, his voice soothing.ย โNone of us are hiding anything, so you have nothing to worry about. Itโs allย ๏ฌne.โ
โMaybe. I donโt know, Charlie. I donโt know if this documentary was such a good idea. Things have been normal for a long time. Good, even. You remember what it was like, back when sheย ๏ฌrst disappeared, or after the trial. All that attention, the media, people in town havingย opinions,ย the broken windows, that psycho obsessed with the case. You have no idea what kind of spin this documentary might have; they could be trying to make you look guilty. They can do that, you know. Editing. The soundtrack, the perspective. Easy to make someone look like a villain. I donโt know why weโre doing this, why weโre risking bringing all that negative attention back into our lives.โ
โWeโre doing it because we have to, Je๏ฌ,โย her dad answered, still nice, still calm, but Bel could hear a rare hint of impatience.ย โYou think I wanted
to do it? You think I wanted the cameras around, intruding in our lives, bringing up these old, painful memories? But we have to and it will all beย ๏ฌne, I promise. They canโt make me look guilty because Iโm not guilty, we all know that. Theyโll be done in a few weeks and then we can all move on with our lives. Hey, it might even be a positive thing, this documentary. People willย ๏ฌnally get to see the real us, our family, how much we all loved Rachel. It might be the thing thatย ๏ฌnally clears my name for good.โ
โBut maybe itโs not too late toโโ
โNot too late toย what?โย Charlie cut him o๏ฌ.ย โI signed a contract; the familyโs participation was part of that deal. I sold them my life rights, Je๏ฌerson. They paid me forty thousand dollars. It is too late to go back and this discussion is pointless.โ
Bel shifted her position, knees cracking in the silence, holding her breath to listen harder.
โIโm just trying to help you,โย Je๏ฌย said.ย โI donโt think youโve thought this all through.โ
โI have thought it through hundreds of times,โย Charlie said, and now he was angry. Bel never heard him angry.ย โI donโt see you volunteering to pay for Dadโs care, Je๏ฌerson. Do you know how expensive it is to have a full- time caregiver? Have you even given it one thought? No, because itโs my job yet again to take care of everything. We needed the money, Je๏ฌ. More money than you or I have. The documentary is paying to take care of Dad. You might not want to do it,ย Iย donโt want to do it, but we had no other choice.โ
Bel was listening, learning, but Je๏ฌย clearly wasnโt.ย โThere must be another way to help Dad andโโ
โYouโre right, Je๏ฌ.โย Charlieโs voice grated.ย โWe did have two options to get that kind of money. One was to take part in this documentary. And the other was toย ๏ฌnally apply for Rachelโs death certi๏ฌcate so I could cash in on her life insurance policy. That was the bigger payout, for sure. But which of those options makes me look worse, do you think? Which one of those makes me look guilty?โ
He was right, of course. Dad was always right. They would fall apart without him, the whole family. He did the worrying and the thinking and the planning, so they didnโt have to. Bel knew he must have had a good reason forย ๏ฌnally agreeing to talk to the cameras after all these years.
โIโm sorry,โย Je๏ฌย said, backing o๏ฌ, giving up the edge in his voice.ย โI wasnโt thinkingโฆabout Dad, about the money. I didnโt realize thatโs why you agreed to the documentary. Iโm sorry. Thank you for taking care of Dad, for putting himย ๏ฌrst.โ
โI donโt need thanks,โย Charlie said, back to normal.ย โItโs Dad. Iโd do anything for him. Do anything for any of you.โ
โI know you would,โย Je๏ฌย said.
Bel hadnโt really heard Dad and Uncle Je๏ฌย argue before. Playful ones, sure, brotherly teasing and overreacting, but never something where realย sorrys had to change hands like that. Because Dad didnโt argue; he wasnโt built that way. He and Bel had never had a realย ๏ฌght, not raised voices, or heated words theyโd regret later. Bel had tried, of course, many, many times, when she needed somewhere to put her anger. But at theย ๏ฌrst sign, Dad would simply tell her he was going to leave the house, so they could calm down in their own space and time,ย ๏ฌnd kinder words to work it out. Mostly he didnโt actually have to leave at all. It worked every time, unlit whatever fuse there was, untangled whatever misunderstanding. He was good like that; the only one who would never leave her. And Bel found other places to put her anger.
โSorry,โย Je๏ฌย was still saying downstairs.ย โIโll do the rest of theย ๏ฌlming.
Whatever they want me to do. Iโll even try to enjoy it.โย Bel promised the same.
โ
โOh, fuck o๏ฌ,โย Bel said when she spotted Ramsey and the rest of the crew outside the entrance of Gorham Middle & High School the next morning.
Carter jostled her shoulder as they crossed the street together.ย โDid you know they wereย ๏ฌlming here today?โย she asked under her breath, hiding it
with a smile.
โNo.โย Bel tightened her grip on the straps of her backpack, knuckles bursting through the skin like armor.ย โBut itโs nothing to do with us.โ
โIf itโs nothing to do with us, why is Ash waving at you?โ
Ash was wearing black check pantsโbottom half almost normalโbut heโd paired those with a mustard-color sweater vest over a shirt with a large, ru๏ฌed collar, hair tied in a small bun on top of his head. Jesus, he was at an American high school, they were going to eat him alive. People were already pointing and staring, though it might have been the camera they were looking at.
Bel and Carter approached. They had no choice; the crew was blocking the entrance.
The principal was there too, talking eagerly to Ramsey, eyebrows and teeth dancing around his face. Most exciting thing to happen to him all year, probably; hadnโt looked this perky since the game against Pittsburgh High, where Joe Evans puked red Gatorade all over the basketball court. People screamed because it looked like blood.ย Go Huskies!
โHello, Bel, Carter!โย Ramsey spotted them, using them as an excuse to
maneuver away from Principal Wheeler. Ramsey might be able to read people, but she could read him too.
Bel considered pretending she hadnโt heard him.ย โHello,โย Carter said cheerfully, ruining the game.
โCarter!โย a voice called across the semicircle of grass. Carterโs friends were waiting for her back there, beckoning her over, backpacks knocking together as the girls huddled closer.
Carter glanced at Bel, like she was waiting to be released.
Bel wanted to say no, but what was the point?ย โSee you later,โย she said, letting Carter go, because she was going anyway, always would be.
Carter darted o๏ฌย without a second glance back. Her friends rebuilt their huddle around her, chattering excitedly.
โBel,โย Ramsey said, bringing her attention back to him. A crowd was starting to form around them, a bottleneck to reach the doors.ย โI know weโre
not scheduled toย ๏ฌlm with you until Saturday, for the reenactment.โย His eyes lit up.ย โVery exciting.โ
โFantastic. Canโt wait.โ
โBut today weโreย ๏ฌlming around the school, seeing the place your mum used to work, what it was like to be a high school English teacher here, her life outside of home. Weโll be interviewing a few of the teachers who worked alongside her: Principal Wheeler, Mrs. Torres and, of course, Mr. Tripp.โ
Mr. Trippโmathโbut he was Belโs homeroom teacher, and the man who found her in that car sixteen years ago. Why had his name stung a little when Ramsey said it, though? Bel hadnโt realized that he taught here the same time as Rachel. Maybe that was the reason he was always nice to her. Rachel took everything.
โBut now Iโve caught youโโย Ramsey said.ย โLiterallyโโย Bel muttered.
He continued:ย โโI thought it would be nice toย ๏ฌlm you, walking the same halls your mum used to teach in. Thereโs a nice parallel there. And it would be great to talk to some of your friends at lunchtime, if they can sign the release forms.โ
Bel took a breath, straightened out her face.
โYeah, sure. Lunch. Iโllย ๏ฌnd my friends.โย Her tongue too fat around that last word, saying it wrong, another slug in her mouth.
โPerfect.โย Ramseyย ๏ฌashed his teeth.
Bel turned to go through the double doors, disappearing into the crowd, passing Ash. He caught her eye and she caught his. A muscle twitch in his mouth, not a smile, sad somehow. Like he knew the thing she hadnโt said and was sorry about it. Well, he would be sorry, if he ever looked at her like that again.
Belโs sneakers screeched against the polished tile of the hallway. More polished than normal. A group of girls were standing by the lockersโย juniorsโwatching Ash through the doors, giggling and falling into each other.
โAnd the man-bun!โย one of them snorted, setting them all o๏ฌย again.
Bel let the strap of her backpack slip from her shoulder as she passed the group, her heavy bag swinging down and knocking into that girl, hard.
โHey!โย the girl shouted, spoiling for aย ๏ฌght, or spoiling for an apology.
Canโt hear you,ย Bel mouthed back at her, pointing at the nonexistent wireless earphones either side of her head.
She continued down the corridor, past the English classrooms. Every day she had to walk right byย The Rachel Shrine,ย as she thought of it: a collection of photos and certi๏ฌcates on the wall, old letters and poems written to and aboutย the best English teacher ever.ย The trick was to not look at it, pretend it wasnโt there. No doubt Ramsey would want toย ๏ฌlm in front of it today.
โBel, hey!โย A voice caught up to her, a patter of feet. Bel stopped, narrowed her eyes before she turned.
It was Sam Blake; her long black hair pooling like liquid over her shoulder, just as it always did.
โI heard what he said back there, about speaking to your friends. I donโt mindโฆdoing that, I mean.โ
A stone dropped into Belโs gut, growing into that hard knot of tension. She sharpened her tongue.
โI donโt know, Sammie. Do you still think my dadโs a murderer and it makes you uncomfortable when he picks me up from sleepovers?โ
โIโฆIโฆโย Samโs mouth opened and closed, useless, speechless. Bel shot her a deadly smile, and Sam withered away, gone again.
It was easy to push people away when you knew how. Bel had a clean record; she was very, very good at it. Making people leave her before they chose to go anyway. Same result in the end, because everybody left eventually, but it hurt less. That was what life was, choosing the way that hurt less.
That was what she would do now.
She shoved open the door to her homeroom and it slammed into the wall, startling Mr. Tripp behind his desk.
โGod, Bel,โย he said, clutching his hand to his chest, hiding what was in
it.
But Bel had seen; heโd been checking out his auburn hair in a small handheld mirror.
Camera ready.
His skin was still sallow, though, those same dark rings under his eyes.
Hadnโtย ๏ฌxed those.
โMr. Tripp, I just got my period and itโs a bad one, blood everywhere.โย He stared at her through his tortoiseshell glasses, eyes darting, open-
mouthed.
โIโm not feeling well either.โย Bel coughed a fake, hacking cough, spraying it around the room.
Mr. Tripp stared harder, backing away in his wheeled chair. Bel coughed again. Groaned. Hands pressed to her stomach.
โDonโt feel good at all. Might be Covid. I should probably be sent home.โ