“After the blackmailing shit with the cheerleaders, you fucking expect me to think you didn’t organize someone to record that to use against me?”
“I did,” she yells out. “But I didn’t send it. I swear.”
Noah steps forward, slamming his hand down on the table, making us all jump. “Whose phone was it recorded on?”
“Tiffany’s,” she rushes out.
A gasp is heard from across the room and I look across to find Tiffany sitting up against the wall, her hands raised in innocence. “I filmed it,” she admits, too terrified to even dream of lying about it. “I sent it straight to Monica afterward and deleted it off my phone. I didn’t want the evidence.”
“Henley saved your fucking ass a few weeks ago and you didn’t think to do the same for her?”
Tiffany shrugs. “Sorry, but Henley offered to do it to get me on her side. I didn’t owe her anything.”
“You didn’t owe the girl who didn’t rat you out for jumping her and finding the dirt that Monica was using against you?” he questions. “You’re fucked up, but don’t you worry, we’ll deal with you in time.”
Fear flashes in her eyes as Noah turns back to Monica. Tiffany is a problem we can deal with another day, right now, Monica needs to be put back in place.
“Looks like the spotlight is back on you,” I murmur, deathly low to Monica, releasing her head and sitting on the edge of her desk, so close she has to crane her neck to see me. “Tell me, I’d love to hear your side of the story.”
She instantly starts shaking her head, tears springing in her eyes. “I swear, I didn’t do it.”
“Says the girls who lied about…well, everything.”
“I swear,” she repeats, looking between me and Noah. “I’ve done some fucked up things over the past six months that I’m not proud of. Like seriously fucked up, but I’ve learned my lesson and kept my head down. I just want to graduate. Please, you’ve got to believe me.”
“And you’ve got to understand how fucking hard it is to do that,” I tell her. “You see, literally all of the evidence is pointing your way. You were the brains behind me being jumped. You’re the sad bitch who keeps blackmail to get yourself off. You’re the one who had the video. What am I supposed to think?”
“I know it looks bad, but I didn’t do it.” The tears start to fall and for the first time, I start doubting myself. “I swear, Henley. It wasn’t me. I haven’t been to any fucking parties and I haven’t tried to climb my way back up. I just want senior year to finish so I can get the fuck out of here. You’ve already ruined what little chance I had at having any sort of social status, so what could I possibly gain by sending out that video?”
I narrow my eyes on her. She has a fucking point.
“There are bitches all around this school who are dying to take you down. They all want what you have,” she continues, quickly glancing at Noah. “You have him, the grand fucking prize. You have the respect of the whole school and the status every girl wants. Anyone of them could have gained something by sending out that video, but not me. All I would have gained is a fucking smackdown. Lucky me, huh?”
“So, who the fuck sent it?” I demand. “It was on your fucking phone.”
She shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know,” she says. “Anyone could have gotten it. Tiffany emailed it. Despite her deleting it off her phone, it would have still been in her sent emails. Someone could have hacked her phone, or mine, or hell, the fucking cloud. Everything stays on the fucking cloud.”
“Uhhh…” a nervous voice says from behind me. I whip around to face the designated school nerd. His name is Simon and he’s in my Biology class and despite the fact that I’m a fellow science nerd, I’ve never talked to him before.
My eyes narrow on him and he instantly snaps his mouth shut. He either has balls of steel or a death wish for interrupting my interrogation; either way, I’m going to find out which.
“Can I help you?” I demand, momentarily forgetting just how bitchy I can sound.
“I…I…I.”
“Spit it out,” Noah growls.
Simon swallows, his eyes flicking back. “I, uh, I could hack into the school network and find out where the blast originated from.”
I raise a brow. “You can do that?”
“Well, yes. It’s not exactly hard,” he says, spinning the phone on his desk around and showing me the video. He clicks into the sender’s details. “It was sent from a school email.”
Noah snatches Simon’s phone off his desk and looks closer at it. “How the hell do you know that’s a school address?”