Here Lies Blair Campbell

Chapter Three

We all arrive at Phoebe’s house, deadly quiet for the first time in, well, years- and it’s not because it’s an hour before midnight. Izzy goes to Phoebe’s room with Kara right behind her, and Phoebe sits on the couch with her laptop, beginning to type furiously, eyebrows furrowed. Ally begins fiddling with her phone, rolling on her side as she puts the phone to her ear. 

I don’t need to be a genius to know something is up. 

Noah appears from the back of the house before sitting down next to me. “Did she tell you anything?” I whisper, and he shakes his head no. Next to us, Ally sighs and says quietly into her phone, “Justin, call me, okay? It’s important.” She hangs up and throws her phone across the couch, burying her face into a pillow. 

“I’m about as clueless as you are, Charlie,” he says. “I think Phoebe and Izzy are the only ones who know something.”

I sigh and lean my head on his shoulder. “I’m so sick of this.”

“Of what?”

I scoff, gesturing toward the empty air. “Everything-- all this drama revolving around us and Blair. It’s annoying.” I look at Phoebe and Ally. Phoebe looks like a tired mom and she rubs the bridge of her nose. “I mean, do you know how much Blair bullied Phoebe last year? Phoebe disappeared for a couple of months, didn’t even answer her phone after that fiasco. You know which one I’m talking about.” 

Noah presses his lips together and nods, resting his chin on my head. We fall silent, realizing how oblivious we actually are about all of this. It’s like we’re inside, but still getting pushed back outside. Phoebe and Kara and Izzy still have all of their secrets that they would never share with us. 

Phoebe gets up and goes to the back of the house, where a door slams shut, but not before the sound of Kara crying is heard. Phoebe is beginning to comfort her now, and the last thing we can hear is her saying, “Oh, Kara.” I sink into the couch more, and Ally turns over and stares at us before sighing and closing her eyes. We’re all uncomfortable right now, for the first time in a long time. It traps us, and I can feel it squeezing me until I’ve sunk so far into the couch that I almost fall off. Noah rolls his eyes at me before pulling me back up. 

Ally is pulling out her journal and flipping to a blank page. “A pen?” She asks me, and I fish one out of my bag and throw it to her. She catches it and rolls over onto her stomach and begins writing. I stare at her at her, tapping my finger on Noah’s forearm. Ally’s journal is like my room. She never lets anyone see it, not even the people she trusts the most. 

But that’s the best thing you could do, especially in this group. You need to keep what you can to yourself. Giving your heart to these girls will seem like the right thing to do, but it will always eventually come back to stab you in the back. 

I watch Ally for so long I almost fall asleep. I’m getting myself comfortable when there’s a slam again, and I almost jump out of my skin. Kara’s marching into the vast living room, and Noah pushes my tired self off of him, so hard that I fall onto the floor. Phoebe trails behind Kara, looking a bit nervous. Izzy is behind all of them, an I’m-done-with-everything look on her face. 

“So?” Noah is questioning them as he fixes himself on the couch. “What did Blair do today?”

“How do you know it was Blair that did something?” Kara snaps at him angrily, her face flushing.

Noah tilts his head at her. “Steam is coming out of your ears, and Blair’s the only person who can do that to you.” He shrugs. “You can’t keep us in the dark forever, and you look like you have a plan for revenge, and if you want all of us to cooperate, we’re going to have to know what she did to deserve whatever punishment you have in store for her.”

“It’s not going to be a punishment,” Kara says, rolling her eyes. “Just a lesson.”

“That’s just a nicer word for punishment,” Ally says monotonously from the floor. “Just tell us what she did. Did she steal your ever-coveted role as Princess Diana?”Izzy snorts, and Noah presses his lips together to keep from laughing. Ally may not speak much, but it’s brutal when she does. 

But Phoebe keeps her mouth in a straight line, Kara begins fidgeting with her sweater. And that’s when we realize- Blair may have actually done something… bad. Like, really, unconditionally bad. I lean forward, suddenly alert. “What happened,” I say quietly. 

Kara seems to have a hard time saying whatever it is. She doesn’t seem mad, just maybe disappointed. Phoebe takes Kara’s hand, squeezing it to encourage her. Kara looks down, and then back up at us, tears forming in her eyes. “She posted a video on her story. It was an old video, but it was still really bad.”

I frown, pulling out my phone. I haven’t checked anyone’s updates since this morning, and I guess I’ve missed a lot, considering the fact that Kara is borderline wailing. I tap on Blair’s story, and then I see a video I thought I’d never see again. She’s captioned it an “early throwback thursday. say hey to stacy for me!” I feel my face go white, and it all comes back to me. The smell of dirt and smoke. Izzy, finally serious, not laughing, pulling us up. Us, out of our minds. 

I feel like throwing up. 

Ally goes to the couch, her face still passive. She leans over me to see the video replaying over and over. I watch her face go even blanker than it already is, and she swallows hard. She looks down, her hair falling in front of her eyes. “Why would she post that on her public story?” Ally is asking us quietly, her brow slightly furrowed. “She has over four thousand people who can view that story, and that’s not just our school.”

I grab Noah’s hand, squeezing it. I feel the need to comfort him, even though I’m the one who needs comforting in this situation. Izzy glances at our hands intertwined, but she’s too distracted to mention anything about it. I can see the lights going off in her head. Kara is still crying, her body shaking, and Phoebe holds her up, looking as though she is about to cry herself.

Ally’s brow is furrowed, almost angrily. Phoebe, having sat Kara down on the couch, is now leaning against the wall, tugging fiercely at her ponytail. Izzy is beginning to dig her nails into her hands, a sure sign that she’s concentrating on something-- something that I’m pretty sure is along the idea of revenge.  

Noah is the first one to speak up, looking at Izzy suspiciously. “Izzy…” he says, dragging her name out. “What are you thinking?”

Everyone turns to look at Izzy, who’s beginning to tap her foot incessantly against the hardwood floor. Her eyes are narrowed, mouth set in a straight line. She has her arms folded tightly against her chest, making her look like a stiff, angry doll. “She needs to pay,” she finally says, breaking the silence. “She’s going to pay.”

Kara looks at Izzy with bloodshot eyes. “How?” She seems so hopeful, just like that night. Izzy Garcia, coming to save us once again. We can’t live or act the way Izzy does, but we depend on her essence, her being, to save us from destroying ourselves. And that’s how Kara sounds right now-- like a lost little girl, hoping her guardian angel will come and swoop down to save her. To punish those who must be punished. But to save our secrets, to save us from our own punishment. Her eyes are screaming at Izzy, SAVE ME!

It almost seems as though Izzy is ignoring Kara, who’s beginning to protest, “How?!” Our fearless leader turns toward Phoebe, who is preoccupied with borderline ripping her hair out.  “Phoebe, what’s that story you were telling me about? The one that you submitted for NWA COMP. What did we do in that one?”

Phoebe stops tugging her hair out for a moment to think. “Um, we kidn*pped the most popular girl in the school?”Izzy’s grin is back, and she’s already nodding, pointing her finger at Phoebe. Immediately, Phoebe is shaking her head. “No, no no no- we can not do that. Isabella. Think about it. We kidnap not only the most popular girl, but the richest, most well known girl in the whole city of South Valley. That’s so far past our morals.”

“Morals?” Izzy questions, raising an eyebrow.

“My morals,” Phoebe almost growls. “This is a prank that will end with us in jail, Izzy. I’m not taking the chance.”

But we’re all exchanging glances. Kara’s tears have dried, and a glint has taken over her eyes. This might actually be a good idea. One that will teach Blair a lesson, perhaps. One that she needs more than anything else in the world. 

“She kind of deserves it,” Izzy says with a shrug. “She has the nerve to post that video of us, and under what condition? It was from two years ago. What kind of response does she expect us to give her in this situation? Nothing?” 

Kara and Ally are both nodding, though. Phoebe looks at Ally incredulously. “Ally! You’re actually agreeing to this? You’re supposed to be the neutral one!”

Ally just shrugs. “It’s true, though,” she says quietly. “She knows better than to post that.”

Noah and I are staring at this whole exchange. I’m in quiet awe that we have actually gotten to the point that we think it’s okay to kidnap this girl, considering our history with her. But then again--

Considering our history with her, it might be okay. This might teach her to not mess with us again. I find myself nodding, too, but I only realize it when Izzy grins at me and Phoebe stares at me, mouth ajar, eyes filled with disappointment. I feel a twinge of regret when I look over at Noah and see that he has the same expression as my best friend. I turn away from him. 

“I refuse to take part in this,” Phoebe says.

Izzy laughs at her. “Pheebs, love, you’re already a part of this. You’re the inspiration. Besides, what are people going to think when Blair gets kidn*pped and you’re off on the sidelines the whole time, ignoring us? They will definitely suspect us.”

“Don’t you get it, Izzy? They’re going to suspect us the minute she disappears! They can track phones, and with a girl like Blair it’s going to be hard to keep her kidnapped.”

“Not if we just kidnap her for the weekend,” I suddenly say. It’s all coming to me now. I keep my gaze away from Noah, whose disappointment is crashing down on me in waves. “Think about it. Get her phone, text her mom or dad or whoever and say she’s sleeping over this weekend, she’ll be back on Monday evening after school. We kidnap her, hold her wherever-”

“And do what with her?” Phoebe growls. “Torture her?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “We just teach her a lesson. It doesn’t have to involve torturing her or tying her up or anything like that, honestly.” I trail off, still thinking about it. “But what would we get out of it? Blair isn’t going to change, and we know that. We don’t even know anything about the kind of person she is, so who says this is going to be easy?” I shrug. “We might trigger something in her.”

“Or in us,” Ally says bluntly. We look at her, confused. “One of us might go a bit too far is all. We’re not her biggest fans as of now, as you all can tell.” 

Phoebe is practically snarling now, her nose flaring and her cheeks turning red. “Are you guys insane?! Is something wrong with your head or something? Do not tell me I became friends with a bunch of sociopaths!”

“Psychopaths,” Ally says with a bored tone. “Sociopaths have a reasonable conscience.”

“Whatever!” Phoebe scowls. 

“You shouldn’t be so mad,” Izzy says with a shrug. “You wrote a story about it. That means that you thought about it at one point in your life. One point that I’m betting to have been very recently.” Izzy pushes herself off the wall and moves to the center of the room, towering over us. She stares us down, tilting her head a little as she thinks. “We will kidnap Blair Campbell, not kill her. We will teach her a lesson, not torture her. And we are doing this because she must pay for her sins.”

Noah snorts and we all turn to look at him. “What?” he says incredulously. “Are you guys listening to yourself? This isn’t a movie, Izzy. This is real life. There are consequences for the wrong things you do in real life. I know you guys aren’t going to listen to me, but I’m just saying. Something bad is most likely going to happen from this quote-unquote ‘harmless fun’.”

Izzy is silent. We’re all silent as we mull this over. Noah is right, but he doesn’t understand where we’re coming from, fortunately and yet, unfortunately at the same time. As a group, we got too involved with Blair, something we should’ve known better than to do. That video- that horrible, wretched video- was proof of it all. And how dare she post that for people all over the world to see. Blair knows foreign royals, kids of entrepreneurs. She has them all on her social media, and she posts that for them to see? 

She deserves this k********g. She deserves more than that, to be honest. She deserves social humiliation, a fall from the social food chain. She deserves that, and more. 

I look up from my clenched hands, to the clock on the wall. It’s midnight. My parents won’t care that I’m gone, but Seb will. It will take me two hours to get home at this rate. I look at an angry Phoebe to a defiant-looking Kara and Izzy. I stand up and gather my books, putting them into my bag. As I throw my bag onto my shoulder and open the front door, I look at my best friends, avoid eye contact with Noah. “I’ll write out the plan tonight.” And then I slam the door closed. 

Noah is following me out of the house, though. “I’ll drive you,” he says. “Izzy is staying with Phoebe tonight.” I keep my gaze on him. “Charlie,” he says with a sigh. “My car is still at school anyways.” I turn away from him. We walk the fifteen blocks to school in silence, and my mind wanders to the day we became The Glory Girls. 

I can’t remember it very well, I realize. I know Kara integrated herself into the group on the second day of school, claiming Izzy and I to be her only friends, but even then, it was always me and Izzy first. We would ride the train and bus to her house everyday after school in the first semester of freshman year, kicking off our tennis shoes and going into her room, where we would plan our high school days down to the second. Izzy wanted to be fearless, dangerous, that cool popular girl whoever everyone loved but could never get close to her. I just wanted a good story to write. August and September was spent on Izzy’s bed with root beer floats every Friday, my papers everywhere but me and my laptop in one corner. Izzy would be at her desk, writing another script for a film, or watching film production videos. 

Noah’s room was right next to hers, so we would see him stumbling through the hallway with his sophomore friends, and on Friday nights, a cute blond girl, with her artistically ripped jeans and crop tops. The cute blond girl turned into a brunette named Jessica, turned into a latina named Alina. The Evolution of the Girls Noah Sharpe Loved happened right before our eyes in the hallway of Izzy Garcia’s home. 

Phoebe found her way into that hallway at one point in her life, in October of our freshman year.  She was a freshman girl we’d seen around school, in my conservatory classes. She was quiet, thoughtful, not the kind of girl Noah usually brought home. They were, Izzy and I determined, each other’s first loves. 

They were- until they weren’t. Suddenly, in December, Phoebe began hanging out with me and Izzy more often, coming home with us, avoiding Noah’s eyes. Izzy and I became friends with her- obviously- but severely avoided the question we were dying to ask. They eventually- eventually- became polite, and then friends with each other. 

Ally-- I don’t remember very well how exactly Ally got into our group. She kind of appeared one day and, as we always do when it comes to Ally, we just went with it. But-

Noah interrupts my train of thought when he takes my hand. “What are you thinking about?” 

I look at him, his blue blue eyes, his brown hair sticking out beneath his backwards hat. He tilts his head at me. I shake my head and look away, squeezing his hand. “Nothing,” I say quietly.

We don’t talk for the remaining ten minutes it takes us to get to the school parking lot. My thoughts begin wandering again to meeting Noah, then the Glory Girls, then Noah again. I’m so lost in my sentimentality that I jump when Noah tells me that we’ve arrived at the school parking lot. We walk to his car, and I get into the passenger seat, snapping at him, “I could have gotten myself home. I’m a big girl.”

“Yeah? You’re also my girlfriend,” he replies as he starts the car and begins pulling out of the parking lot. “But what kind of guy would I be, regardless of our relationship, to let you take public transportation at almost midnight? Besides, what will Seb think of me when we finally tell-”

I snap my head over to him so fast I almost get whiplash. “When? You mean never.”

He’s silent, but he’s gripping the wheel tightly. “I still don’t understand why-”

“Because, Noah, I made a pact with Izzy to not go after you, especially with what happened between you and Phoebe-”

“Phoebe and I were almost two years ago. Damn, get over yourself, Charlie. It was a freshman year fling. This? This thing between us? It’s more than that.”

I exhale loudly, narrowing my eyes at him. Does he not understand? “Glad to know you didn’t care about Phoebe. She just started seeing someone new and acting normal around you. How is she going to feel-?”

“What she feels is not my concern, Charlie. I know I sound like a jerk right now, but people move on. Her opinion, or anyone else’s for that matter on our relationship, doesn’t really hold that much weight for me.” He’s pulled over, stopped the car, the radio still playing. The heater is on full blast but I still feel really cold as Noah stares me down. He turns his body a little so that he’s facing me. “Listen, I’m tired of sneaking around everyone’s backs. Of seeing guys flirt with you, even though you don’t flirt back. It’s annoying. I want to be able to hold your hand in public- at least just that. Give me at least that.”

I’m silent. The car is unbearably silent, and Noah reaches over to take my hand. I want to be able to do more, say more, than just squeeze his hand back. And maybe he’s right. What exactly am I afraid of? Izzy and her unbearable, unspoken rules? 

I sigh, and finally say, “Okay, we can tell them. When the time is right, though. Not in the middle of all of this, okay?”

He smiles- that heartstopping smile of his- and leans forward. With his mouth against ,ine, he smiles again and says, “You’re insane.” He doesn’t give me a chance to say anything else because he presses his lips harder against mine, taking my face in his hands. “God, I love you.”

I rise up, unbuckling my seatbelt, and he grabs me by my waist, pulling me forward onto his lap. I squeeze my eyes shut until I see stars, let everything cloud my brain to make it so loud that his “I love you’” gets buried somewhere in the mess. Until every “I love you” is buried. Until all that is left-

Is nothing. 

That night, I arrive at home at one in the morning, climbing the four flights of stairs to my room at the top of the house. I don’t let anyone in, because letting someone into my room means letting them into my mind, and I don’t even allow Noah in here. The wall are covered in blank papers that I taped there at the beginning of school. I set my bag down and kick off my shoes, eyes on the wall. I close my eyes-- the papers need words, I think. I’ll be alone without them, because I need them when I am alone, and not around my friends. 

They’ll be alone without me. 

They don’t need me, I find myself thinking-- like they’re living breathing things, words-- I need them. 

Blank pages scare me-- there’s one on the floor right now. I need to write something, anything. 

I bend down and pick up the paper. I write, shakily, but it comes out of me like something else has taken control of my hand, my mind, and is spitting out- magic. 

I don’t really know how it happens. My  mom used to tell me that magic comes out of my hands- out of my mind, my soul- when I write. 

"he kisses me

tender and sweet

savoring this small moment

a piece of his love released

given to me to keep

and cherish forever."

Believe it or not, I have  always been afraid of words-- this is why I write. And yes, I guess that maybe this makes me a coward, because who is afraid of words? (People who are afraid of the truth)

But everyone is afraid of the truth if you really think about it. Everyone is always afraid of the truth, whether it’s admitting they’re wrong, or telling someone they did something wrong. People will kill to keep the truth underwraps.