Dial Em for Murder (11 page)

Every part of that sounded right to me.

It's possible I would've stood in the middle of the hallway, clutching my suitcase and fantasizing about my best friend, if the door hadn't jerked open to reveal a black girl with riotous curlicue hair and dark, almond-colored eyes. She looked perky.

Really perky.

I wasn't sure if she'd been practicing a cheerleading routine when I had knocked on the door. Her white tank top revealed sleekly toned arms that Michelle Obama would envy and there was a slight gap between where the top ended and her short skirt began that showcased a magazine cover–worthy set of abs. There was a slight sheen of sweat on her upper lip that she wiped away with the back of her hand as she shot me an enormous smile.

“You must be Emmy! I'm
so
excited you're moving in here. We are going to have the best time together. Come in, come in.”

She flung open the door and I realized that it was the only part of the room that Kayla
hadn't
decorated within an inch of its life. There were pictures and posters everywhere, most of which featured gymnasts in graceful, albeit slightly unnatural looking, positions.

“Is that all you brought?” Kayla pointed at my suitcase, as if she expected it to magically expand. It didn't. “Well. That's okay! We'll go shopping together!”

A cold sweat began to trickle down my back. Kayla's mom must've had an affair with the Energizer Bunny—that was the only explanation for her undiminished enthusiasm. “Uh, that's okay. I've got everything I need.”

Kayla eyed the suitcase dubiously, but didn't press the issue. “I wasn't sure if you brought bedding, so I put my extra set of sheets on your bed. Don't worry, they're clean. You're going to love them!”

I glanced at the bed and struggled to hide my immediate reaction. They were the same eye-burning neon orange color that construction workers have to wear as vests. The bed would probably glow in the dark, like some demented crime scene taped off from nosy onlookers.

“Uh, thanks.” My smile felt forced on my face, but I refused to let it fade away. Kayla was obviously trying to make me feel at home. Just because I wanted her to dial down the enthusiasm by, oh, twelve notches, didn't give me the right to be a jerk. Kayla's body maintained constant motion—feet shuffling, arms flapping, hands fluttering—and I braced myself for the possibility that she never tired. That I'd fall asleep while she practiced her imitation of a whirling dervish.

I unzipped my suitcase as she pointed to a dresser decorated with stickers of energetic hedgehogs romping about with their quills at half-mast.

“I condensed my clothes into the dresser with the kittens on it.” Kayla said, reaching her arms skyward then folding her body in half until her palms rested on the floor in a deep stretch. “And I have some hangers you can use for dresses or jackets or—” her voice trailed off as she straightened. “I'm talking too much, aren't I? I'm sorry. I always do this. I get excited and then suddenly I'm talking a mile a minute while people edge toward the door. It's like,
Wow, overshare much? I didn't want to know that much about you.
And then I keep going and going and—”

Going. I got the picture.

A blush spread across her cheeks, an instant giveaway that dozens of people in her past had mocked her for being so bubbly and energetic. It must have sucked.

“Oversharing works for me.” Exhaustion dampened the edges of my reassuring smile, but I gave it my best shot. “I tend to be on the nosy side.”

“Really?” Kayla looked like I'd promised to whisk her off to Barbados in a private jet for spring break. Something that most of the kids at Emptor Academy could probably afford to do.

“Definitely.” I shoved a handful of shirts into a drawer and eyed the makeup sprawled across every available surface. Most of it was really,
really
sparkly. “Feel free to share any how-I-met-my-boyfriend stories. Or girlfriend. No judgment here.”

Kayla sank to the floor and continued stretching. “Oh. My love life isn't that interesting. The closest I've come to a relationship lasted roughly, I dunno, sixteen seconds?”

“How is that even possible?”

“We kissed in an airport right after a gymnastics training program. It was kind of unexpected. Then we went our separate ways, never to cross paths again.”

I eyed the effortless way she'd contorted her body.

“Gymnastics training, as in Olympic-level stuff? You can do all the flips and the handsprings and the double whatchamacallits?”

She shrugged. “Sure. I've been training since preschool, but I landed wrong, heard my knee pop, and it was goodbye Olympic tryouts. Hello Emptor Academy.”

“Can't you compete for a spot next time?” I instantly wished I'd kept the question to myself. Kayla looked deflated, as if her boundless energy had been sucked right out of her.

She shook her head. “Gymnastics doesn't work that way. You have a very short window to make it. No do-overs. No take-backs. My window closed and the doors to this place opened instead.”

I nodded as if that transition made perfect sense and then froze. “So are you here on a scholarship, too?”

Kayla grinned wryly. “I share my gymnastics expertise and the school pays for my bed, board, and education. It's an unorthodox arrangement, but hey, I'm not complaining. Total win-win scenario.”

I wanted to ask Kayla if she'd ever been in a lose-lose situation. She was such a positive person it wasn't hard to picture her insisting that she was totally fine with an uncomfortable situation. Letting manipulative jerks like Sebastian steamroll right over her.

“This is just a stepping stone for you, right? Something you have to do until something better comes along?”

Kayla stared at me as if I'd spoken in Klingon. “Um, are you crazy? I love Emptor Academy.
Everyone
loves it here.”

I shoved my jeans into the second dresser drawer. The intense way she said that last part made the school sound like a cult full of brainwashed preppy kids. It wasn't going to suck me in. Kayla might enjoy being at the mercy of the academy, one pen stroke away from being back at square one, but it was a temporary situation for me. I was merely biding my time until any potential killers trailing me lost interest.

I decided to keep that last part to myself.

“Sebastian mentioned something about seeing you tonight.” I shoved clothes into the dresser and tried my best to be casual. Breezy. As if there was only mild curiosity propelling me onward. “Is it, uh, a tutoring session or something? Tumbling or fencing or—”

An entirely different kind of exercise hit me from out of nowhere.

Please don't say sex,
I thought desperately.
Please, please have too much self-respect to hook up with that asshole. You seem really nice, Kayla. You deserve better. And I
never
want to find Sebastian's monogrammed sock hanging on the doorknob.

I would never be able to fall asleep knowing that Sebastian had once been intimately acquainted with the borrowed sheets on my bed. No amount of laundry detergent could bleach out the ick factor.

“I guess you could say it's like tumbling.” Kayla bit her lower lip in a cagey gesture.

“But you're not dating him or anything, right?”

So much for subtly gleaning information from my new roommate.

Kayla laughed. “I guess you really
don't
know Sebastian. He doesn't date. Not that he's a monk or anything,” she lifted her arms for another stretch, “but it's never serious.”

“And the two of you?”

“God no!” Kayla's nose scrunched up as she made a face. “Never. Not my type. Wait. Are you interested in him
that
way?” She clapped her hands together. “If you need a wingwoman, I totally volunteer! I can try to feel him out, see if he might have any feelings for you, and then—”

“No!” I interjected, but it was too late.

Audrey would've had no trouble explaining to Kayla that I had zero interest in becoming another notch in Sebastian's undoubtedly elaborate four-poster bed. Coming from me, though, every fervent headshake seemed like a desperate attempt to cover up my real feelings. In a way, I guess it sort of was; I didn't want Kayla to know that I already had an enemy.

Or at the very least, an irritant.

“Sebastian's a really great guy, Emmy,” Kayla assured me with all the enthusiasm of an eight year old trying to convince her parents to buy a puppy. “He's a little reclusive, I guess? But he's incredibly smart and—”

“Rich?” I suggested, because describing him as “vain” or “shallow” would've sounded even bitchier.

“Well, yes,” Kayla looked taken aback. “I was going to say loyal.”

Kayla was obviously one of those people who saw the best in everyone. She couldn't be any more misguided about Sebastian St. James, though. Loyal guys didn't
smile
when they were informed of a death in the family. Then again, Sebastian still refused to accept that his grandfather was dead, so maybe I was reading too much into that particular reaction.

My brain felt like it was gripped in a vise that kept tightening. There had to be something I could say to get my point across, but I couldn't seem to find the words to explain it. And I was too worn out to care. The last time I'd reached this level of exhaustion I had spent two full days obsessively studying for a math final.

“He's super loyal, actually. His friend recently went through a breakup and Sebastian couldn't have been more supportive,” Kayla's voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper. “Although I wouldn't be surprised if the IRS pays her family a visit. I admit, he can be a bit . . .”

Sociopathic,
I mentally finished for her.

She bit her lower lip thoughtfully and then smiled. “Intense.”

I managed another unconvincing smile. “Well don't let me interrupt your date with Mr. Intensity.”

“Are you sure you don't need help settling in?”

Kayla had no idea how disconcerting it was for me to see large swaths of the wall covered in neon pink hearts. The entire space overwhelmed me with its glitz and glitter. As nice as Kayla seemed, I wanted her to leave and take the sparkle and shimmer with her. Give me some breathing room.

“I'll be fine. But thanks. I'll see you.” I flopped down on the bed as if I were already settling in. “Same place, different time.”

She laughed, grabbed a water bottle from her desk, and moved toward the door. “I've got a really good feeling about this, Emmy. I think we're going to make excellent roommates.”

I had no intention of sticking around long enough for us to paint each other's nails and swap secrets.

Just another unspoken confession I mentally added to my list.

Charging my Slate proved pretty anticlimactic.

I'm not sure what I expected to happen, but I wasn't expecting it to just sit there acting all normal. It should have been flashing or vibrating or doing
something
to lead me to the next step of my plan, but it remained about as responsive as a paperweight, while I became increasingly tense. The silence that had sounded so appealing only moments before grew oppressive, so I turned my full attention to the task of unpacking.

Okay, and maybe I did a little snooping.

It's not like I pawed through Kayla's underwear drawer or anything. I didn't
completely
violate her privacy, I merely studied all the photos she'd taped onto the walls. If she hadn't wanted them to be seen, then she should have removed them before my arrival.

That was my story and I was sticking to it.

Nothing stood out to me as peculiar. There were a whole bunch of photos of Kayla wearing sparkly red leotards that contrasted beautifully against her dark skin. She had a wide smile in each shot, as if she perpetually glowed with the confidence and joy of a champion. She radiated pure glee even with a bronze medal around her neck
.

I might not be an actress, but my mom had practiced her entire catalog of facial expressions before any major theater audition. The polite, practiced smiles of politicians. Calculating grins that ranged from the sexpot out to stir up trouble to the vengeful look of a scorned lover hunting for revenge. We had made a game of it. All I had to do was call out a backstory and my mom would transform into the character. It was her eyes that had always communicated the most. Kayla's had seemed so guileless and open, as if her emotions were never mixed. Never jumbled. As if she could be ordered to share her personal space with a total stranger and not feel even the slightest bit possessive or territorial. In the handful of minutes we'd spent together she had offered to take me shopping and tried to set me up with one of her close friends.

I didn't trust it.

Still there was something about Kayla's easygoing smile that made me want to confide in her, even though that should've been my very
last
i
nstinct given the circumstances. Maybe it was the way she offered friendship as easily as breathing. As if she
knew
you were going to become good friends and the matter was already settled in her mind.

I pushed away those thoughts and studied a group of photos, noting they had all been taken in front of the Emptor Academy manor house. The architecture was unmistakable, as was the sense of history that cemented each brick in place. It was a stern building; distant and unapproachable.

Kayla was giggling right in front of it with her arms draped across the shoulders of two very familiar boys. Sebastian and Nasir.

Well, wasn't
that
cozy.

I didn't see any love letters tacked anywhere, no obvious signs of past boyfriends, no red Sharpie hearts framing any faces. Maybe she'd been telling the truth about her dating fly-by in an airport, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. That there had to be some ulterior motive for Sebastian to select her as my roommate. I scanned the room for something tangible, but the only consistent decorating theme was glitter. From hedgehog stickers to photos of hedge fund trust kids, the room was unapologetically girly. The swirl of bright colors and glossy textures became overwhelming. My brain went straight into visual overload and I clenched my eyes shut. Studying every inch of the cluttered bedroom was the fastest way to drive myself insane.