I need to know. I need to know what the police suspect, where their investigation is pointing them.
We find several massive folders containing notes and information about the case, and the five of us divide them up among ourselves, flicking through pages and pages of documents. There are pictures of Iris’s body in the morgue, which I flip past in a hurry. My heart speeds up and bile coats my throat as I try to wipe the images I saw from my mind.
I page through several statements from her parents, her academic records, school schedule, and phone records until—
There. There’s something.
“Hey, River,” I call softly. He’s on the other side of the room, digging into another file drawer, but he doesn’t look up when I say his name.
“River!” I repeat a little louder, anxious to show him what I found and ask if it means what I think it means—his dad is a lawyer, so I’m hoping he’ll understand the dense language better than me. But he still doesn’t respond.
“Ri—”
I’m about to call his name again when I notice something strange. Lincoln, who’s stationed against a file drawer several feet away from the gray-eyed boy, makes a small gesture with his hand. It’s low, near his hip, almost imperceptible. I only notice it because of the angle I’m standing at.
River’s gaze catches on the movement, and then he turns to me smoothly. “What?”
I blink, my eyebrows furrowing. “Did you not hear me?”
“What?” He shoots me a bewildered, almost amused look, as if my question is absurd. But I see something shift behind his eyes, a flare of fear sparking in their gray-sky depths.
“You didn’t, did you?” I ask slowly.
“Of course I did.” His words are sharp, and it looks like he wants to turn away from me, but he doesn’t. He’s staring intently at my face, his gaze flicking down to my mouth… and after a moment, I realize why.
He’s waiting to see if I’ll speak again.
Waiting to read my lips.
“You can’t hear me.” My words are soft, hardly more than a whisper, but I guess it doesn’t really matter.
River’s body goes rigid, and his nostrils flare. He looks like he’s torn between humiliation and anger, between running for his life and biting my head off.
“I can,” he says stiffly. “Sometimes. Just—not very well.”
Holy shit.
For a few heartbeats, we all just stand in silence. The other three guys are watching our exchange, and I can tell Lincoln in particular is on edge, ready to jump to River’s aid if need be.
But what do they think I’m going to do? Mock him? Tear him down?
I wouldn’t do that. There’s nothing wrong with him.
So many things make more sense now though. Like how he’s always been the quietest of the group, often standing a little apart, observing so carefully. How he keeps his back to the wall at parties, so people can’t surprise him from behind—so he never gets caught out like he just did. And the other three kings have rallied around him, helping him keep his secret by always having his back, catching his attention or covering for him if he misses something.
And Iris—the things she screamed at him at that party after he rejected her must’ve been about this. She must’ve known, or at least suspected.
Shit. No wonder he was so fucking pissed and freaked out that night. She almost blurted his secret to the whole school.
I realize I’m still staring at River, locked in a silent standoff with him, so I close my file folder and walk toward him. His body jerks, almost like he wants to flee, but he stays perfectly still as I come to a stop in front of him.
“I won’t tell anyone, River,” I say softly, making sure not to change my pattern of speech—not to start enunciating exaggeratedly as if he’s a slow child or something. He must be an incredibly accomplished lip-reader to have kept his near-deafness hidden for so long. He doesn’t need my pity, and he doesn’t need to be coddled. “I promise. I’ll never tell a soul.”
He doesn’t look like he believes me at first. His face is a mask of shame and self-loathing, and I hate that he feels either of those things right now. So even though it makes no sense and only makes the crazy fucking mess between all of us even messier, I step forward again, closing the last bit of distance between us, and press a chaste kiss to his lips, like I’m sealing a vow.
His hands keep gripping the folder he was looking through, and he doesn’t relax, exactly, but his lips press back against mine.
When I pull away, I make sure he can see my face before I say, “I don’t care. It doesn’t change anything about you, as far as I’m concerned. And anybody who does care can go fuck themselves.”
The corner of his lip twitches like he wants to smile, and even though it doesn’t happen, it makes a warm feeling spread in my chest.
“I wish you’d told me though,” I add. “In fact”—I raise my voice, shifting my gaze meaningfully to Lincoln—“there are a lot of things I wish you guys had told me. Can we just accept that I’m a fucking part of this now, whether I want to be or not? Whether you want me to be or not? And if we’re all in this together, we can’t be keeping so many damn secrets from each other. I need you to tell me the truth about things.”
Lincoln’s amber eyes seem to burn with an inner light, but he dips his head in a nod. “All right.”
“Agreed.” River nods too, gazing at me like he
