Apart from Sophie Nantes and a girl I identify as one of the friends who tailed her in Tatum’s hospital room, I recognize three other faces.

All of them have pictures hanging in the new community center.

Five girls, all of them the new bright stars of Optimal’s youth scholarships, hand-selected by the vice principal of Barrens High School.

Chapter Forty

Lilian McMann looks surprised to see me, though I called to let her know I was coming. Or maybe she’s just surprised by how bad I look. Catching sight of myself in the mirror mounted behind the reception desk, I get a sudden thrill of the unfamiliar: a girl with hollow eyes, blue-tinged skin. A stranger who bears only a passing resemblance to the reflection I remember.

It probably doesn’t help that I’m still wearing a pair of paint-splattered jeans and my dad’s work vest.

“Come in,” she says. “Can I get you anything? A water? Tea?”

I accept a water. I’m still a little buzzy from the beer, and I need to clear my head, need to focus. As soon as she sits down again, I get right to the point. “I’d like to talk to your daughter about what happened to her before you left IDEM,” I say, and she freezes with her water bottle halfway to her mouth. “I need to ask her about the messages she received, and about whether she knows of anyone else—any other girls—who were targeted.”

She lowers her water without drinking. For a moment she sits there in silence, and I’m worried she’ll say no. But she simply says, “You believe me, then? You think she was targeted deliberately?”

“I think Optimal has been using girls. I think they’ve been using them for entertainment. For bribes. They’ve been trading pictures, for sure. But I’ve heard rumors of parties, too, that some of the girls attended as part of the scholarship program.” I can’t think about what might have happened to them when the camera lens was turned away. “That’s how Optimal got so many people to protect them. It wasn’t just money. It was girls. Everyone is implicated. Not bribery.” I swallow. “Blackmail.”

For a long time, Lilian sits in silence, gripping her water tightly. And now, in the silence, I can hear my heart beating. I’m worried she won’t believe me.

“How?” she asks finally.

“I think Misha Jennings, the vice principal, got the idea from her friend Kaycee Mitchell, ten years ago,” I say. “It was a game she and her friends played when they were in high school—a very sick game they invented. They preyed on younger girls, underclassmen, people who wanted to belong. Invited them to parties, got them drunk, convinced them to pose. Then they ransomed the photos back, or threatened to release them.”

I can hardly stand to look at Lilian. Her face is cold and tight and furious, and I can’t help but feel she’s blaming me—for bringing the news, for failing to stop it. “But the photos were never returned. I understand that it might sound crazy, but I think that through Kaycee’s father, they found a revenue stream and exploited it. Some Optimal execs were hunting around for young girls.”