Page 42 of Good Girls Lie

There are tears now, and Becca doesn’t try to comfort, lets her cry it out. She has the sense if she tries to touch Ash, she’ll go up in smoke or run screaming from the forest. Ash is shy, gentle. Sweet natured, behind the boots and the hair and the insouciant attitude. Becca has been observing the girl for weeks now, watching how she always lets the other girls go first, how she is content to let others take credit for her work. In the cutthroat world of Goode, this is unusual. They are taught to be assertive and confident, to debate and push and scheme. Cooperation is important, yes, but strength and individuality are rewarded. Ash’s strength is quiet. But even granite can crack under the right sort of pressure.

“I get down myself sometimes,” Becca confides. “The pressure of being a senator’s daughter... The expectations are off the charts. I don’t even like politics. But every summer, I’m interning on the Hill or going to ambassadorial camp, and every break I have to work in my mother’s office, talking to constituents. It’s mind-numbingly awful.”

“What would you rather do?” The words are soft, spoken from behind a curtain of hair where Ash’s omnipresent ponytail has fallen in front of her face.

“Anything. I hate DC. I hate the noise, the people, the self-righteousness. They’re all so fucking smug. They pretend they run the world, but it’s all nonsense. I’d like...”

“What?” Ash is looking at her now, her nose red as a cherry, eyes swollen.

“I’d like to move somewhere in the wilderness. Design an eco-friendly farm, live off the grid. It sounds stupid when I say it out loud, but I watched this show once, where they built a cabin in the wilds of Alaska. It seemed perfect.”

“It sounds nice. I understand the desire to get away.”

“I could reinvent myself if I didn’t have my mother breathing down my neck. Oh, so sorry, Ash. That was insensitive of me.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

But the dialogue is over. Becca is genuinely stricken to see Ash has retreated into that quiet, self-contained shell again.

“Do you want another?” Becca hands Ash a second smoke, lights it. Watches her inhale and blow, hard, like she can dispel all the negativity through the haze. She coughs lightly, hand over her mouth, polite. So proper.

“What do you want with Camille tonight?”

“I don’t. That wasn’t my summons.”

“You don’t like her, do you?”

“Camille? She’s...not terribly bright. A lot like her sister. Emily was head girl last year, and was very full of herself.”

“I think she’s okay.” The defense is half-hearted at best.

“No, you don’t. You can’t stand her, or her little dogs, either. I see how you recoil when they come near you. They are never going to be your mates.”

At the terrible British accent, Ash laughs, and Becca’s heart does a tiny dance.

“We haven’t had any real issues, she’s been decent to me. For the most part.”

“So you think. Has she been openly mean?”

“Just at the beginning of term. She was sick and wouldn’t let me help. Went to Vanessa. The two of them... Anyway, it doesn’t matter.” Ash takes a thoughtful drag. “But Camille wanted to take me to Honor Court about this? Allow me to remove the knife from between my ribs. Oh, yes, I can’t reach it, it’s in my back. Could you help?”

Becca spits out a laugh, and Ash smiles shyly. Clever boots, this girl.

“Speaking of, I did want to raise this issue with you. It’s not an Honor Code violation per se, but you really should make an appointment and tell the dean that word is out. She’ll appreciate the heads-up. We don’t want her put in any awkward situations.”

“Okay. I will. We thought it best to try to keep my family drama off the radar. I should have changed my first name, too, but I was worried... It was stupid, trying to pretend everything was okay. I suppose it was inevitable someone would find out about...their deaths. I never thought so many people would care, truth be told. I mean, I didn’t. Not about my father, at least.”

“You weren’t close?”

“No, not at all.”

There is a sharpness in her tone that stings Becca’s heart.

“I’m sorry.” Becca reaches out a hand and tucks a few strands of loose hair behind the younger girl’s ear. “So sorry,” she says quietly.

Ash freezes, shoulders suddenly tight, then unfolds herself from the ground like a young crane, dropping the last of the cigarette and grinding it out with the toe of her boot.

“Listen, Becca, you’ve been really kind today, I appreciate it. But I need to be alone now. Thanks.”