Chapter Text
The day started out like any other normal day, or, as normal as you can get in Bayview when your older sister was convicted of a murder she didn’t commit just a few months ago. Anyway, it was a pretty normal day. I had gone to my first two classes, suffered through a horrible lecture from Mrs. Janser in AP world history, and just needed a couple minutes of peace and quiet in the bathroom before lunch.
I had just been coming back from the bathroom to find my lunch table had been deserted completely, and Bronwyn was basically sprinting out to the outdoor seating in the front of Bayview High.
What in the world?-
That’s when I saw the rest of our so-called ‘murder club’ were all out there as well. Didn’t even invite me or anything. They looked…pensive. They were all whispering in a little huddle around a picnic table.
Bronwyn had been…distanant lately. I told myself it was just that she was stressed out from the whole ‘convicted of muder’ thing, and on top of all that, she was still working her ass off to get into Yale by the end of her senior year. But I mean, honestly, if they really needed to meet up to talk, maybe don’t do it in the middle of the courtyard.
We already don’t have a great reputation around campus.
I jumped as the bell to go to third period rang overhead. I guess I had just been so caught up in trying to figure out what was going on I didn’t realize my whole lunch had slipped away.
A whiny, familiar voice popped up behind me, “Aww, they didn’t invite you to their little murder club meeting?” Vannessa asked sarcastically. “Well, there’s plenty of room in my army, if you wanna come fight the good fight. I have a feeling you could be very useful Meave.”
I creaked open the door to our living room, smelling smoke. I had been wondering if my mom or dad had the fireplace going while I was out of the house, but there was no wood burning. It kinda smelled like…buring plastic?
I walked over to the fireplace, not seeing anything, when a shard of something caught my eye.
A mask?
It was a half melted, cheap plastic mask from the halloween store down the road, but my real question was, why was it in my fireplace. To my knowledge, Bronwyn was home all night, and I didn’t have the need to burn anything at the moment.
So, why would she lie to me?
I walked past Vanessa, and I could feel a grin forming on my face. Why the hell would she want me in her stupid little army anyway? The last time we talked, it was mostly her doing the talking, because she was calling me ugly, and Bronwyn stupid.
Needless to say, I was sent to the office for a talking-to after that.
Later that night, I was scrolling through Instagram after I was all done with my homework when a new post got my attention.
“Nate Macauley: Bayview’s biggest suspect has his charges dropped after Simon Kallahar’s death is ruled accidental.”
Maybe that’s what murder club was talking about this afternoon. But if that was the case, why wasn't I invited? I’d ask Bronwyn, she’d probably tell me.
I mean, she was my sister after all. We used to tell each other everything, me especially. It’s kinda hard to have an abundant amount of secrets when you're living in a care ward for most of your life.
I took the stairs two at a time, hearing Bronwyn and my mom going over Bronwyn’s Yale acceptance speech flashcards, or whatever they were.
“Who is your greatest role model?” My mom asked.
Bronwyn put on an award winning smile, “Sonia Sotomayar,” She said with the confidence of somebody who knew exactly what she wanted, when she wanted it. “The first woman of color on the Supreme Court.”
“B, you saw that Nate’s charges got dropped today?” I asked, probably interrupting the monologue she was about to go on about. I leaned against the doorframe, feeling the hinge of the door grating into my back.
That would probably leave a bruise. Just another perk of being cancer girl, your body never fully recovers.
“Yup, I heard,” Bronwyn said, her voice tinged with annoyance.
I continued along anyway, “Yeah, well, that Tom Preston guy, you know him, the ‘TMZ’ wannabe? He, like, reported on it and now it’s going viral.”
My mom sighed, “Maeve, please stop distracting her.”
“What? I’m helping! If she can focus on what she wants to get out of her time at Yale while I tell her about the internet falling in love with Nate, she's gonna kill her interview tomorrow.” I nodded convincingly.
My mom shook her head, flipping through her flashcards again. “Bronwyn. Bronwyn?” She blinked, “Hm?”
“Why is Yale your top choice?”
Bronwyn blinked again, “Oh, sorry. The first time I say Yale’s campus, I was five years old-.”
Oh my god, If I had to listen to this story again, I was going to bash my head in with the vase sitting on the side table next to me. I looked back down at my phone, scrolling through the tags on the post.
I gasped, “This is insane, he literally has his own hashtag, #HotandInncocent?” I laughed, looking at Bronwyn’s face. “I mean, I guess it’s, like, accurate, but-”
“-Quiet or out. Those are your options.” My mom interrupted, her voice laced with annoyance.
So I guess nobody wanted my presence around today. Jeez, tough crowd.
“I guess, what I'm trying to say-” Bronwyn started.
“Don’t say I guess. You want to project confidence.”
I rolled my eyes. My mom had been drilling this into our heads as long as I could remember. ‘Don’t slouch’ She would tell us, ‘It makes you look like you don’t care.’
I have a vivid memory of getting my blood drawn for the first time. I was six years old, and terrified of needles. (I still hate them, but you tend to get used to it when you have to get bloodwork done every week for years.) She sat me down in the chair at the hospital, stuck my arm out for the nurse, and told me that if I cried, they would make them do it again. I did, and as soon as they stuck the needle in my arm, I welled up, the tears pouring down my cheeks. And she was true to her word, she made them draw a little bit more blood, and told me not to cry again.
I never cried getting my blood drawn ever again.
“Actually,” Bronwyn announced, “I think I should go to bed. I don’t wanna be tired for the interview tomorrow,” She said sweetly.
“Good idea, we can always go over more questions at breakfast.”
“Thank you,” Bronwyn said, leaning down to give her a hug, before she hurried off to her room upstairs.
She was definitely planning something.
I knew my sister like the back of my hand, and she would never go to bed at, I checked my watch, ten p.m.
“Buenas noches,” I said, looking up from my phone at her. She nodded, raising an eyebrow at me.
Yeah, definitely hiding something.
Bronwyn was tense all day. I was in the library when I overheard her and Nate arguing about something. And at lunch, she was gone, along with the rest of murder club.
I ate by myself for the second day in a row.
Janae wouldn’t even talk to me. My own girlfriend, and my sister. It’s not like I had many friends in general, but having the ones most important to me just leave and not even getting an invite to help with whatever the hell they were planning?
That stung.
Later that night, I went to go ask Bronwyn if she knew if Janae was mad at me. I knew that I was probably being unreasonable, but I just wanted to make sure I hadn’t done anything to upset her that she told anybody else about.
I swung open the door, taking in Bronwyn's room. She had the whole thing redecorated her freshman year, with all her awards and posters up on her deep red walls. “Hey, I-” I started, looking up and seeing her climbing out of her window.
“It’s not what it looks like!” She said quickly. “I…just needed some fresh air.”
I sighed, “You don’t have to lie Bronwyn. I’m not asking.” I shrugged. “You’ve made it pretty clear I don't know what’s going on. It doesn't matter how many lies I tell for you or how many phones or computers I hack into. I’m not invited to the club.”
“That’s not fair.” She retorted.
I crossed my arms, “Yeah, no shit it’s not fair. But…whatever, that’s not the point.” I picked at a strand of hair, twisting it around my fingers. It was a habit I had gotten whenever I was scared of losing my hair to chemo, and most of the time I didn’t even realize I was doing it.
“Look, wherever you're going....is Janae gonna be there?” I asked. “She’s been…avoidng me, and I just wanna know what I did wrong.” I admitted.
Bronwyn’s face softened. “You didn’t do anything wrong,” she said softly.
“Okay, then why won’t she talk to me?” I could feel my eyes starting to well up.
I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I was not going to cry. I repeated to myself.
“I don’t know.” Bronwyn repeated. “She’s been through a lot, you know?”
“We’ve all been through a lot,” I said, my voice thickening.
“Yeah, and we all deal with it differently….Maybe…she just needs some space.” Bronwyn said, tone final.
“Mm, right. Like you just need some air.” I nodded. I knew where this was going.
Her face softened again. “I’m so sorry, I really, really have to go.” She started out her window again.
“Where?” I hissed.
She paused, and I could almost see the knobs turning in her head. “I’m gonna…go see Nate.”
Liar.
I blinked back my tears, and stormed out of her room.