We Know It Was You (18 page)

“You're not stupid,” Benny said generously. “It wasn't your fault. It was my fault for being disorganized, and for not predicting that Gerard would inform the police about the tape.”

Virginia rolled onto her back. “No, I mean, you must think I'm stupid if you think I'd keep the video in my room. I assumed you thought I was smart, or else you wouldn't have let me join Mystery Club.”

“Uh . . .” Benny didn't know what to say. Did Virginia think she'd been specially selected from an eager and highly qualified bunch of candidates? The truth was that Benny would have let anyone join Mystery Club—he didn't believe in excluding people. But no one except Virginia had been interested, which he obviously couldn't tell her now without insulting her.

“Wait,” he said. “So they don't have the video?”

“I have a hiding place. We all have hiding places.”

We all have hiding places
. It was kind of deep and ironic, Benny thought, Virginia saying it in this raided room with her stuff everywhere.

“Gottfried keeps cigarettes above the rafters. Piper keeps condoms in a pineapple can in the pantry. Everyone has shit everywhere.”

Everyone has shit everywhere
. Benny was so excited all of a sudden, everything she said sounded profound and
miraculous. The video was safe? Virginia maybe actually kind of knew what she was doing?

“Show me,” he said.

Virginia sat up. Without looking at him, she walked out of the room, down the hall, and into the empty common room. She flicked off the lights. It was surprisingly dark—every day the sun set a little earlier than it had the day before.

“I turn the lights out in case someone sees through the window.”

“Smart,” Benny said, hoping he sounded impressed but not too impressed. He was embarrassed for being so condescending earlier, but he didn't want to go overboard sucking up to her to make up for it.

In the darkness he watched Virginia hoist herself up on the countertop, and then crawl onto the refrigerator.

Not the ceiling tiles, please not the ceiling tiles,
Benny thought, starting to lose faith again. Ceiling tiles were pretty much the most obvious hiding place ever to be discovered by man.

“It's disgusting up here,” Virginia was saying. “It's like twenty years of grime.” Benny could see her dim outline reaching behind the refrigerator. “For a while I kept it in my pocket,” she whispered. “But that seemed dumb. The cables back here are covered in duct tape, so I just picked a spot.”

Benny heard tape ripping, and Virginia passed him the
drive. Her hand felt greasy and dirty, and the drive was cold in her palm.

“That's a great spot,” he said. “Really.”

“Do I get a merit badge?” Virginia asked. He couldn't see her face, so he couldn't tell if she was trying to make him feel bad, or if she was just joking. “Do you want to keep it at your house?”

“No,” Benny said. “Keep it here. They might search me next.”

Then there were footsteps coming up the walk toward the Boarders. “Put it back, put it back,” Benny said quickly.

Virginia scrambled around, then hopped from the refrigerator with a thud. Just then the lights flicked on. Benny whirled around. Zaire Bollo was standing in the doorway.

“Well. Hello.” She was carrying a Whole Foods bag and smirking, like she was certain she'd just caught them making out in the dark.

“Hi, Zaire,” Virginia said, walking to the sink to wash her hands. She glanced at Benny as if to say,
Say something
.

“Uh . . . you have a car?” he asked.

“Hm?” Zaire said, still standing in the doorway. Then she looked down at her shopping bag. “Oh no. I begged Mrs. Morehouse to drive me.”

Virginia whispered, “Is she here?”

“No, she went home, thank
God
.”

Benny didn't know exactly what the deal was with Mrs. Morehouse, except that she was universally loathed.

“Her car smelled like unwashed hair,” Zaire was saying. “And would you believe she hit me up for petrol? God. But I just can't live without mozzarella di bufala. Here, try some.” Zaire thrust a pinch of white cheese in Benny's face. He ate it.

“Awesome,” he said.
Awesome?
he thought, horrified.
Since when do I say “awesome”
?

Virginia burst out laughing. “Mozzarella di bufala is the awesomest!” She was laughing so hard she grabbed the counter, evidently to keep from falling over. Benny stared at the floor. Why did she have to make everything so awkward?

Virginia stopped laughing eventually, and Benny caught her eyeing Zaire's food.

“Want one?” Zaire offered, holding up a beautiful-looking tomato. “It's heirloom.”

Virginia considered it. She was obviously hungry, but Benny noticed her chin was tilted slightly away from Zaire, exerting a tiny physical resistance.
Virginia doesn't like her,
Benny realized.

“Don't ruin your appetite,” he said, lightly brushing Virginia's hand away from the tomato. “We're going out, remember?”

Virginia looked at him. “We are?”

“Yeah, come on.”

“Mom picking you up?” Zaire asked, still smirking as she began slicing the tomato.

Neither of them answered. Benny walked out the door, and Virginia followed him. Outside, the sky was violet and the air was cool and brisk. They were ambling. Virginia seemed to be waiting for him to say something.

“We're not really going out,” Virginia said finally, with just the smallest trace of a question left in her voice.

Benny shrugged awkwardly. “Uh, well . . .”

“Not that I
care
. It's just that I'm starving. I have to organize my life, you know? I have to know whether I'm going out, or whether I have to make my own plans.”

“I guess . . . make your own plans.”

“Yeah, I mean, that's what I figured.”

The cafeteria, 7:15 p.m.

They ended up at the cafeteria. Virginia didn't ask if Benny wanted to go in; she just swiped her meal card twice and said, “You can eat on my tab.” He'd only walked her there to be polite, but now he'd missed his chance to say he was going home. He could imagine the scene: Rodrigo having his bourbon, Mr. Flax saying exciting, all-new words, Nana cooking a hot, delicious chicken pot pie in their bright, nice-smelling house. Meanwhile the cafeteria felt dank and depressing. The lighting clearly hadn't been designed for use after dark—the ceiling lamps were weak and greenish without the sun to supplement them. The heat lamps buzzed over neglected-looking food.

They must always buzz like that,
Benny realized, except
during the day the sound was smothered by the genial loudness of three hundred students. It was creepy—six hours ago this building had felt like a completely different place. Benny believed in the concreteness and the intransigence of human character—the idea that, fundamentally, people never changed. People were who they were, day in, day out, sunrise, sunset, forever. But places weren't like that. They morphed and transformed based on the people and light inside them—or lack of people and lack of light.

The resident kids were scattered across the room at different tables, not many talking to one another. The boarders were cooped up so much, Benny figured they were sick of one another at this point. He and Virginia sat near the windows, which reflected dingy images of themselves as the sky outside turned black. They ate tacos and drank milk. Benny checked the nutrition facts on the milk carton. Only twelve grams of sugar.

“I didn't even tell you the weirdest thing he did,” Virginia said. Benny knew she was talking about the detective.

“What?”

“He had this legal document that he waved in my face, and it had my name on it, but he wouldn't let me read it. Is that, like, some interrogation tactic?”

“Um . . .” Benny looked from Virginia to his tray and back to Virginia. Her face was blank. Was this a trick? Was she interrogating
him
? Did she know, somehow, that he'd
read her file? “They'll do anything to throw you off,” he said finally.

“Huh.” Virginia went back to her dinner.

Benny kept glancing at her, expecting her to suddenly seem mysterious or something. But she was just Virginia as usual, scarfing food, pointing at people and talking about them way too loudly, her face a total open book. Was it possible she didn't even know about the restraining order? Either she didn't know, or she was a more masterful faker than Benny could have ever predicted.

He wished he could just ask her about it, but he knew he couldn't. First, he couldn't explain how he knew about the restraining order without admitting that he'd sleazily invaded her privacy and investigated her behind her back. Second, he didn't want to force Virginia to discuss what was probably a very personal and embarrassing matter. To Benny, friendship meant allowing your friends to maintain their dignity even when you knew weird shit about them.

Friendship?
The word stuck out in his mind. Were he and Virginia
friends
? They were supposed to be colleagues. Maybe friendship was inevitable when you hung out with someone so much. Benny didn't know. He'd never been great at keeping friends. To him, it always ended up feeling like
work
—the conversations, the commitment to another person's interests and feelings—eventually it became draining. It didn't feel that way with Virginia, though. She was
weirdly easy to be around. But he didn't want being friends to screw up their work relationship.

“Look at Gottfried,” Virginia said, pointing. He was asleep at a table across the room, his hair falling into his taco.

“Have you noticed how wherever we are, he is?” Benny asked in a low voice he hoped didn't carry.

“Not really . . . ,” Virginia said. “But I guess it always feels like that in the Boarders. People are always in your face.”

“The football field Saturday morning. The Sapphire Lounge last night . . .”

“He wasn't at the game on Friday, though,” Virginia pointed out. “If he were there, I would have noticed.”

“Unless he was hiding,” Benny said, remembering the cigarette butts he'd found under the bleachers. “Do you know what brand of cigarettes he smokes?”

“No . . . They come in a blue box. Or green maybe.”

“Do you think he imports them from Germany?”

“No, he just goes to gas stations.”

“Parliaments maybe? Newports?”

“I don't know. I just know Camels have the camel, so not those.” Virginia shoved another taco into her mouth. Then she swallowed a huge bite and asked, “What do you think'll happen to Gerard?”

Benny shrugged. “He's not our responsibility. But I hope this whole thing has proven my point about sharing
information. Imbeciles like Gerard can't handle themselves. The fewer people whose idiocy we have to deal with, the better.”

Virginia nodded, dumping hot sauce on a third taco.

“You did fine today. It would have been better if you hadn't dropped my note, but all circumstances considered, you did fine.”

“Fank woo,” she said with her mouth full.

Benny leaned back in his chair and examined Gottfried across the room. He had moved in his sleep, his face smushed into a taco like it was a pillow. Benny would never understand the way some people lived. If he were caught sleeping in a taco, he would probably die of shame. But Gottfried just didn't care. Sleepy? Go ahead, rest yourself upon this comfy taco. Nighty-night!

Next to him, Virginia wasn't that much better. Her table manners were atrocious, and she was scarfing her food like one of the orphans from
Oliver!
Maybe it was the lack of adult supervision. The boarders had all gotten used to the idea that no one was watching.

I'm watching,
Benny thought. But he knew that, to most people, he didn't count.

The road, 8:00 p.m.

It was dark now. Their steps crunched along the gravel road toward the Boarders. Gottfried's hand kept brushing against hers, holding it for a second, then dropping it.
What is
wrong with him?
Virginia thought. It was like he could barely stand. He was shuffling along, leaning against her occasionally, like he was still drunk from last night. If Virginia hadn't bothered to wake him up and help him home, he probably would have slept all night in a plate of tacos.

“Walk straight, Gottfried,” she said, steadying him with her arm.

“I am so tired,” he moaned. “And so sad.”

“Aw, there's no reason to be sad, Gottfried,” Virginia said.

“But I'll never see that woman again. The beautiful woman in cheetah skin. I lost her phone number!”

“Oh, I have it,” Virginia said, fishing in her pocket. “You dropped it last night in the common room.”

Gottfried's face lit up instantly. “Oh,
danke
!”

He kissed the paper, and then kissed Virginia's cheek. Virginia stumbled a bit, surprised, and Gottfried's lips slid across her face and sort of landed in her hair. Virginia looked around in case anyone was watching. The way Gottfried was acting, it would seem like they were together or something. Which maybe wasn't the worst thing, considering. Gottfried was by far the most exotic guy in school. But he was too handsome, in Virginia's opinion. People would think she was superficial if it seemed like she liked him.

THWUMP!

Gottfried tipped forward. Virginia half fell trying to catch him. He was holding his head, like something had
hit him. Then Virginia saw it rolling in front of their feet: a half-deflated football.

“Hey! Who's there?” Virginia shouted, whirling around. “Who just threw that?”

“Aww . . . ,” Gottfried groaned, holding his head.