Page 38 of The Bright Lands

“Not mine.” Bethany snapped her bag closed. “My boy was perfectly honest. Maybe if he’d listened to me and cutyoursloose he’d still be here.”

“Oh, fuck off.” Kimbra rolled her eyes. She couldn’t take Bethany seriously sometimes. “If you knew half the shit KT told me about Dylan you’d—”

Jasmine had Kimbra pinned by the arms before she could say another word. Kimbra struggled but Jasmine only gripped her harder. Motherfucker, the skinny bitch had some strength in her.

Bethany came to stand within an inch of Kimbra’s face. She spoke very calmly. “What did you just say?”

Kimbra couldn’t help but smile at the thought of how KT would laugh when she told him this story. Bethany didn’t scare her. Nobody in this town did. Give Kimbra six more months and she’d never see any of these bitches again.

“The fuck are you smiling for?” Bethany said.

Jasmine gave her a shake. “She asked you a question.”

Kimbra chuckled. “I just thought it was funny, you know? The way you happened to get sick the weekend your boyfriend disappeared.” A thought occurred to Kimbra. “And didn’t you tell Alisha your dad was going out of town Friday night? You must have been so lonely, sick in that big house all weekend.”

A look of pure fury ruined Bethany’s pretty face. Her eyes, bloodshot though they had been a moment before, all but turned black now. The change in her was startling, if unsurprising. Kimbra had always suspected someone as perfect as Bethany Tanner must have an animal in her somewhere.

“Ladies!” called a clipped voice from the restroom door.

Jasmine let Kimbra go. They turned to see Coach Rushing, the dour bull mama of the Bisonettes.

“The police are ready for you, Tanner,” Rushing said. “Come with me.”

The rage that had consumed Bethany was just as quickly bottled up again.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Well then, Kimbra thought, watching Bentley’s blonde darling and her skinny attack dog follow Coach Rushing into the hallway. She rubbed the burn Jasmine’s hands had left on her arms. She wondered how much trouble a girl could get into with a house to herself all weekend.

Well then.

CLARK

Clark spotted the poster when she raised herself from the school’s water fountain. MEMORIAL SERVICE 2NITE FOR THE BEST DAMN QB WE EVER SAW it read over a blurry picture of Dylan’s smiling face. BRING CANDLES.

“Officer?” said a boy’s voice at her shoulder. She turned and saw Benny Garcia, one of the backbenchers, standing at her elbow with an anxious frown on his pockmarked face. “Exc-c-cuse me, Officer. C-c-can I speak t-to you?”

“Of course.”

The halls were glutted with students after the final bell. He leaned in and said quietly, “It’s about F-F-Friday night.”

“Would you like to step—”

The boy seemed not to notice the attention they were drawing. “You know J-Jamal? It’s j-j-just that he s-s-said s-something weird at h-h-halftime. At the g-g-game.”

“In the locker room?”

“Y-yeah. H-h-he asked me if I had a c-c-condom.”

Clark blinked. She saw Benny’s eyes track a cluster of Bison players as they filed down the hall, their gym bags slapping their hips. Saw the way Garrett Mason, the team’s hulking defensive safety, caught Benny’s eye and held it for a long, charged second.

Clark frowned. This didn’t feel right. “Jamal asked you for a what?”

Benny nodded. “I d-d-didn’t have one, of c-course. B-b-but it’s w-weird, right?”

Before she could thank Benny for his time, the scrawny boy had slipped away to catch up with the bigger Bison who’d passed them earlier. He said something to Garrett Mason as they rounded a corner and Mason responded with a single, curt nod.

That nod bothered her. She’d always imagined that some foundation of discreet loyalty underpinned the team—an impression which her interviews with the players yesterday morning had only strengthened—but Benny didn’t look at all bothered by what he had just told her.Strange, she thought. To whom was that loyalty extended? To whom was it withheld?