Ace of Spades by Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé

Author:Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé [Àbíké-Íyímídé, Faridah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Feiwel & Friends

* * *

The house is empty when I get back.

I go upstairs immediately, opening my laptop and downloading everything Peter sent over.

The first sheet pops up. I scroll, watching as each message is traced back to the origin. Computer 17. Every message that was sent is there.

Just in. Looks like Chi’s not so sweet. Sources say she got caught trying to steal candy. Careful, Chi, don’t want a record Yale will see …—Aces

It’s been two weeks since it happened. Two Tuesdays ago. And I still can’t figure out how the candy ended up in my pocket. I wonder who these sources are. There were other people in the shop, but none I recognized as being Niveus students. Only Jamie. But it doesn’t make sense that he’d ruin his relationship with Belle by posting the later messages about us. None of this makes sense.

The next downloaded page comes up on the screen—the dates and times of the logged texts.

Like Peter said, they all happened around ten o’clock.

22:06

22:13

21:57

All on a Sunday or Monday night. Who would have access to the school at that time? The janitor? The teachers? Anyone could steal a key …

My phone buzzes and I jump.

Is it weird that I’ve never watched The Notebook before?—B

I smile down at her message, feeling guilty for being happy that she texted when Jamie is still obviously upset. A good friend would try to fix his relationship with her … But I don’t have to be a good friend to someone who isn’t one to me.

Yes, really weird, you should change that soon.

I look down at my phone, waiting for her reply.

Maybe I was too forward.

I don’t want her to think I was suggesting she come over and watch it, even though that’s what I was suggesting.

I’m regretting sending it.

Are you free now? I have it on DVD.—B

I look at my laptop’s screen as another download pops up.

Logged at 22:04 on Sunday … That can’t be right.

I scroll, zooming in on the page and details. My heart picks up.

How is it possible that Aces knew I would be accused of stealing candy on Tuesday, when they logged it on Sunday night at 10:04 p.m.?

My mom’s making pancakes too …—B

I look down at her message. The sense of impending doom in my chest makes me feel like someone has wrapped their hands around my neck, blocking my air supply.

Blond hair. Blood. Tarmac.

At any moment, Aces could release more lies or more truths. The police could come knocking on my front door, lock my wrists together in handcuffs, and drag me away while the disappointment on my parents’ faces burns into my mind forever.

I need to go through all of what Peter has sent over, make sure I have an airtight plan to take back to Devon tomorrow.

Sorry, something came up.

I was just starting to have a real friend, and, like everything else, Aces is ruining that too.

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