Page 29 of Web of Lies
The bulbs of the fluorescent lights buzzing above my head are the only sounds filling the air. On the tips of my toes, I creep down the hallway towards apartment 301. I pull my kit out of my pocket, dropping to my knees.
When I investigated Mag’s tormentors eight months ago, I tried to commit to the role. Downloading everything I could about this campus, I discovered, despite the amount of money brought in by tuition, they still had old-fashioned keyed rooms. You’d think with their money, they’d have eye scanners by now. But luckily for me, they don’t. So, after logging hours upon hours on YouTube, I picked a lock, like a thief, but I knew my plans. So, I had to learn.
Listening to the tiny clicks of the lock, I finally hear the one I’m listening for. Click. The door cracks open with a slight twist of the handle, and I’m standing inside. If I thought my apartment was amazing, Ainsley’s is spectacular. Beyond what a seventeen-year-old needs to survive. Her apartment looks completely updated from mine: new TV, new computer desk, and more room than necessary. I knew by the blueprints of every building; they were all a little different. But to see it in person changes it all.
I move around the apartment like a stealthy ninja. Staying as silent as possible, I look through the mounds of paperwork on the kitchen counter. I flip through pages and find nothing suspect, just a bunch of school papers.
Moving on to her computer desk, I open the bottom drawers and search through them, coming up empty. There’s nothing here, nothing but the school syllabus and other paperwork—no evidence pointing the finger at Ainsley. I move to the top drawer of the desk and pull. Locked. I run my tongue over my top teeth and try to pull again. Definitely locked. Only essential items get locked inside a desk. Without ripping the lock off, I take out my kit again and pick it. The same familiar clicks come from the lock until it pops open. I take a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through my veins, and reach inside.
My eyebrows furrow at the sight before me. There are pictures of Ainsley, Chase, Seger, and Zeppelin as kids. She and Chase made mud pies as kids. Tons of her, Chase, Seger, and Zepp hanging around campus from their freshman year until last year. There’s even a picture of Magnolia sitting with them at lunch, smiling like they didn’t bully the shit out of her.
Ainsley and Mags share another picture, just the two of them together. Leaning in, shoulders touching, and giant smiles on their faces. Magnolia’s auburn-toned hair blows in the wind, sweeping across her nose and eyelashes. Freckles dot her happy face, and a deep red lipstick stains her lips. Ainsley’s deep blue eyes stare into the camera, looking more comfortable than I’ve ever seen her. Here and now, she has darkness clouding every inch of her. But then, with Magnolia? She looked different—happier and healthier.
I run my finger over Magnolia’s smiling face. Her brown eyes stare back at me with happiness shining through them. I smile back, tears clouding my vision, blurring my surroundings as I give in to my overwhelming grief.
When she died, I refused to look at pictures of her. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t look at her angelic face, knowing she’d never return to me. She wasn’t on vacation, returning in three weeks. She was dead. Seeing her happiness glaring back at me splits my soul in two, gnawing at the edges of my grief. Maybe she was happy at one point, but what changed? And why?
“What happened, Maggie?” I whisper to the girl staring back at me. She, of course, has no answers. Just a simple smile caught in a snapshot of her and a girl I thought was her enemy.
Staring at her now stirs every ounce of heartbreak inside me. Tears fall, cascading down my cheeks and off my chin. They splatter onto their faces, coating them in my sadness. Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and ground myself. I can’t get too caught up inside my head or let my grief consume me completely. It’s then, and only then, I hear something that makes my heart skip two beats inside my chest as I slip the photo into my back pocket.
Several keys jostle on the other side of the door, separating me from whoever is coming in. My body trembles, my eyes looking around frantically. Where the hell do I hide? Fuck! The doorknob jiggles as I run towards the bedroom door and fly under the tiny bed. I grunt, squishing my body between her floor and bed, barely fitting. The shadows of her darkened bedroom hide me, but the light from her living room will let me see her every move.
The front door shuts softly out of view, followed by a small, pain-filled cry. “It’s happening!” Ainsley shrieks through a trembling voice.
The white soles of her shoes are the only glimpse I see of her pacing form. Back and forth, back and forth, she tiptoes the entire length of her living room.
“No, Chase!Again!” she wails, “It’s happening again. What the fuck? I thought this was over. I thought—” She stops mid-sentence and listens to Chase; I’m assuming over the phone. “Yeah—yeah, after the game, I’ll show you. But it’s the same person, I swear,” she whispers in agony. “I can’t do this again. What if—what if it’s me this time?” she half-croaks, half-sobs. “Fine. I’ll see you later.” With a huff, she hangs up, takes several deep breaths and walks out the door again with a bang.
I stay under the bed for another ten minutes, just in case she decides to come back. Thankfully, as the silence surrounds me, I’m able to digest her words. What’s happening again? What the hell does she mean?
I need to get out of this room, throw my black hoodie around my waist, and make it to the game for appearances. Chase will look for me, and to be honest, I’m kind of excited to see him play. Although the enormous crowd will make me want to puke, I’ll do it for him. Wow—for him.
After dropping off the picture in my room, I make my way to the football stadium, burying my nose in my phone.
Me:
I made it in and out… in one piece. Almost got caught tho.
Tristan:
Be glad I’m too tired to freak out over your b&e.
Me:
I hope you didn’t break anyone’s legs with your pent-up aggression.
The crowd roars with cheers, shouting, and sharp whistles. A loud, male voice booms through the speakers, welcoming everyone to the very first football game of the season.
By the sounds of the screams and roars, I haven’t missed a lot. The surrounding atmosphere is so jovial. It lights up my soul. The heaviness from before lifts from my shoulders, almost as if this atmosphere took it all away. I close my eyes again, soaking it up. Usually, large crowds squeeze the life out of me, but this feels different—life-changing.
The players run onto the field with their red and white uniforms plastered to their muscular bodies. Their printed last names sit on the back of their jerseys in bright red letters. Except for Seger and Zepp—the twin terrors as they’re called—who each have their first initials along with their last names.
Taking my ticket out of my pocket, I hand it to an actual guard, vigilantly standing by the nearly empty VIP section. He grunts, scanning it and points to a door down the hall. I make my way into the enclosed room, filled with large windows for viewing the game.
Ainsley sits as stiff as a board on the edge of her padded seat, gnawing at her swollen lips. She stares out the window, never taking her eyes off the players huddled on the field.
Cool air conditioning blasts into the tiny room, creating a nice cool breeze among the heated outside world. Ainsley pulls her sweater closer to her body, taking a deep breath.
