Page 88 of Did You See Evie

Apparently, the other shoe hasn’t yet dropped that that adult is actually Kyle, an employee of the school. Manning Academy is in for trouble once that information leaks. There’s a lump in my throat, as I struggle to reveal the next part. “That’s the thing. We’ve learned that Evie wasn’t the one chatting with him.”

“Of course she was,” Melinda says. “Beatrice showed you her phone. I’ve seen the screenshots myself.”

“Yes, the screenshots show the conversation, but Evie wasn’t involved.”

“But her name?—”

“Evie wasn’t talking with any older men online,” I say, forcing myself to get it out. “Amber was.”

Melinda’s expression falls, hovering in a place between disbelief and disgust. Everyone who was aware of the online chats knows how graphic they were; she must be disturbed that it was her daughter sending those messages, not Evie. I can’t imagine how devastating it must be to hear. Especially considering how protective a parent Melinda can be, how important keeping up a particular image is to her.

“That can’t be right,” she says. “Why would you say something like that?”

“One of the other girls on the team finally confessed,” I tell her. “Amber and Beatrice and Tara were using Evie’s name and her pictures, but they were the ones having the conversations.”

“But why? Why would they use Evie’s name?” she says, her face still in disbelief.

“Maybe they were afraid to use their real identities,” I say. “Or maybe it was just another part of the bullying.”

Even though the school didn’t have a formal conversation with the parents, Mr. Lake talked to all the girls. Her daughter must have mentioned Evie’s claims. And Melinda must have some idea of what her daughter is capable of.

“Excuse me, Ms. Terry,” a large man says, entering from the garage door on the other side of the kitchen. “The guys are getting parched. You have a couple of water bottles you can spare?”

Melinda runs a hand through her hair, smoothing everything into place. “Sure.”

I wonder if she isn’t thankful for this interruption, hoping to drag it out even longer to avoid returning to our conversation. I watch her as she steps over to the fridge and opens it. She looks as though she’s dazed, staring into the near-empty refrigerator as though she forgot what she’s looking for. I can’t help but notice how bare the shelves are, the limited items catching my attention before she shuts the door.

“Here you go,” she says, handing over two bottles of water. She watches closely, waiting for him to leave before she turns to me. “What exactly are you saying, Cass? That my daughter and her friends put Evie’s image online, and that might have put her in the crosshairs of a predator?”

“I don’t know,” I say, looking away from her. I stumble over what to say next, but before I can respond, we’re interrupted by the man again.

“Ms. Terry? One of the guys has a question?—”

“For goodness’ sakes,” Melinda shouts, slapping her arms against her sides. She stomps to the garage door. “What is so difficult about loading a truck?”

“We just want to make sure we get everything you requested,” the man says, then adds under his breath, “We know how particular you can be.”

“Coach Cass, give me just a second,” she calls over her shoulder, following the man through the garage door.

I stare around the bare kitchen, wondering what Amber’s home must look like when it’s at its prime. Friends and family gathered around the table. Plentiful food and brand-new appliances. I look back at the refrigerator, opening the door to take another look at what’s inside.

There are a few cups of pudding and bottles of water, then I see the colorful item that captured my attention moments ago. It’s a square box covered in purple and white checkers. Uncrustables. The dinner of champions for girls like me and Evie, but my mind immediately recalls the huge fuss Melinda threw over us having them during summer basketball camp. Amber is allergic, so much that her mother insisted we not have them anywhere near her. Why would she keep these in her house?

Voices from the garage startle me, and I quickly close the fridge. The voices are followed by another sound. The movers must have banged something on the ground. As I step closer to the door leading to the garage, I realize the sound didn’t originate there. I can still hear Melinda Terry and the workers talking. It’s coming from another part of the house.

And yet, no one else is supposed to be here. According to Melinda, her husband and children are already tucked away at the house in the new subdivision. I wonder if I’m starting to spook myself when I hear the sound again.

It’s a type of rattling, coming from the end of the hallway. I move in that direction, the sound getting louder as I make my way down the corridor. In front of me is a closed door. My hands are in front of me, pushing it open. Inside the room, there’s complete darkness, although a glare of light is visible far away. I realize I’m staring down a basement staircase. Instinctively, my fingers find the light switch on the wall to my left.

As soon as the lights come on, the banging stops. I turn the corner, looking at the bottom of the staircase, afraid of what I might see. There’s no one. Just more empty space. Then someone comes around the corner.

A pale face, hair pulled back. A forest-green hoodie.

“Evie?”

She takes a step forward, facing the light. “Coach Cass?”

Without thinking, I’m rushing down the stairs. My arms are outstretched, part of me wondering if what I’m seeing in front of me is even real.

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