Chapter 6
My mother was in full planning mode when I got home. The dining table was covered in glossy university brochures, scholarship applications, and a color-coded calendar that mapped out my entire future in fifteen-minute increments. "There you are!" She looked up, beaming. "I've been making lists. We need to schedule campus visits for your top three choices. Riverside, obviously, and then State and Carlton as backups. The Riverside acceptance letter should arrive any day now, and then we'll need to…"
"Sounds good, Mom." I set my bag down, kept my voice light and engaged. This was important to her, the culmination of years of sacrifice. I wouldn't let her see the fractures underneath.
"...confirm your housing preferences. I was thinking you'd want to be in the Honors dorm, since you're a Whitmore Scholar. The brochure says they have single rooms available if we request early enough…"
"A single room would be perfect." I moved to the fridge, poured myself water with steady hands. "More space to focus on studying."
She squeezed my shoulder as she passed. "I'm so proud of you, sweetheart. Everything you've worked for…it's all coming together."
I smiled at her. "Thanks to you."
"We did it together." Her eyes shone. "Do you remember when you were twelve, and I told you education was the way out? That if you worked hard enough, you could have opportunities I never had?"
"I remember."
"And look at you now. Full scholarship. Riverside University. My daughter." She shook her head, amazed. "Sometimes I still can't believe it."
Neither could I. Because it was built on a foundation that was crumbling beneath my feet.
After she went to bed, I sat at my desk and opened my laptop. In a hidden folder, protected by my custom-coded RSA encryption along with a vigenere cipher, I kept my real notes.
Timeline - September 14:
2:00 PM: Left house, phone off
2:35 PM: Arrived Chance's neighborhood (walked, no cameras)
2:47 PM: Knocked on door
2:50-5:15 PM: [gap - no digital footprint]
5:30 PM: Left house (seen by neighbor - PROBLEM)
5:47 PM: Bus 47 (on camera - PROBLEM)
6:30 PM: Arrived library, texted Mira
Known Evidence:
Fingerprints: Explained (birthday, March)
Cell tower ping: Partially explained (Riverside Park adjacent)
Bus footage: Explained (Riverside campus visit - weak)
Witness: Unexplained - CRITICAL GAP
Unknown Variables:
Diary contents
What Chance told others about the essay
Additional witnesses
Forensic evidence from scene
Liabilities:
Mira knows I arrived late and wet
Neighbor saw argument three weeks prior
No proof of Riverside campus visit
Cell phone off during critical window (suspicious)
I added a new line:
If pressed: claim visited Chance to apologize for argument.
Left before anything happened. Explains witness, explains presence.
But that was a last resort. Every additional detail was a potential contradiction waiting to trap me.
My phone buzzed. Mira: Can we talk? In person? Tomorrow?
I stared at the message, running through scenarios. Mira was smart. Observant. She'd noticed something. The wet clothes, the late arrival, my distraction that entire week after. How much had she pieced together?
Option A: Meet her, gauge what she knows, adjust the story accordingly. Option B: Avoid her, let suspicion build.
Option C: Get ahead of it, confess something small and controllable to build trust.
Option A. Always gather information before making decisions. Sure. Coffee after school?
Yes. The usual place.
I closed my laptop and lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. In the dark, I could think clearly, map out the branching possibilities like a decision tree. If James arrests me, I will deny everything, lawyer up, force him to prove it beyond reasonable doubt. Circumstantial evidence wouldn't be enough. If Mira confronted me: depends on what she thought she knew. Could be managed. If the diary revealed the essay theft: my motivation to silence Chance becomes clear. Very bad. Need to find out what's in it before James makes that connection. If my mother found out: the one variable I couldn't calculate. Her disappointment would be worse than any prison sentence.
My phone lit up again. Unknown number: This is Detective James. One more question, did Chance seem upset or worried when you saw her in March? Any indication she felt threatened by anyone?
A test. Seeing if I'd volunteer information, or if I'd stick to my story.
I typed back: She seemed normal. Happy, even. She was excited about college. I'm sorry I can't be more help.
I set the phone down and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. My mind kept circling back to that day, to the moment when everything spiraled out of control.
I'd gone there to negotiate. To find a solution where we both won. I'd had arguments prepared, contingency plans, three different approaches depending on her mood.
I hadn't planned for her to say no to all of them. Hadn't planned for her absolute certainty that I needed to confess, consequences be damned. And I definitely hadn't planned for what happened next.
The sound her head made when it hit the marble floor still echoed in my quietest moments. I'd checked for a pulse. Found none. Stood there for exactly forty-five seconds trying to decide what to do.
Then I'd made my choice. Not out of panic. Maybe out of fear. Because the only way forward was if Chance never got to tell her truth.