Free The Julian Game by Adele Griffin Page A

mugs.
    “Mmm.” My friend Jeffey. And Ella, with a noncommittal yeah , didn’t bother to set straight the misunderstanding.
    “Not for me, that model life,” said Hannah. “I’d die without chips and cheesecake. But damn, Jeffey looks saw- wheat .”
    “That’s funny. We all think she looks like a baby giraffe,” said Ella. “She’s fouled up with back acne, too. They have to Photoshop her from head to toe. Right, Raye?”
    “Meow.” Doug rolled his eyes.
    “No, it’s true. We’ve all seen. She’ll never be able to make a real career out of modeling, it’s just a hobby. She hardly even gets paid. Right, Raye?”
    It wasn’t true. I’d seen Jeffey in the locker room a dozen times. Her unself-conscious, clothes-hanger figure was the reason some of us huddled behind the metal locker doors when she was around, wriggling like seals in and out of our uniforms.
    The pause was becoming a chasm. I swallowed unchewed pancake. My mom had been so big on never speaking against other women. How the world was hard enough. How loyalty was essential to wellness.
    “Yeah, it’s pretty gross,” I said, looking away from Ella’s sunbeam smile.

sixteen
    “We did it,” Ella said the next morning when she called.
    I was bleary, rubbing my eyes. “Did what?”
    “Log on to Julian.”
    “Why?” But I was already reaching for my laptop.
    “To check out the shiner. Meri sent me a message this morning. Remember Mark Calvillo, who was friends with Brandon? The guy in the Texas Longhorns shirt?”
    “Okay.” I kind of remembered him, swoopy hair and bullet eyes. “What about him?”
    “He’s who did it. If we’d stayed two more minutes, we’d have seen Julian go down, then get dragged in by the cops along with ten other kids.” Ella sighed. “Ah, Looze, that was the sickest party. Meri lost her cell privileges and no Audi for a week.”
    The picture popped right up. It looked like Julian had snapped it himself. Expressionless and close up. It made a horror-movie, doorknob effect. His eye was pulped blackish purple. “Oh my God. Somebody really beat him up.”
    “Not somebody. Mark Calvillo. But in a way, it was really us, Raye. We got him. He’ll never know, but he’s got us to thank.”
    Acid churned in my stomach. “My dad’s calling,” I said faintly. “I better go.”
    I kept staring after I clicked off. It was as if Julian were looking directly at me. As if he’d shot the photo for my own bleak conscience. He hadn’t captioned it or explained it or anything. Nothing but the date and time, 2:38 AM.
    He’d also left a private message in Elizabeth’s inbox. I quickly went into Natalya’s mom’s account and changed the password in case Ella thought to pick it up. Then I took a breath and opened it.
    Dear “Elizabeth,”
    Since there’s no message from you, I guess I don’t need to tell you what happened when I went to find you at Meri’s last night. Hell, you might have been there.
    First, so you know, I got the joke early—as I’m sure you’re aware your Facebook profile makes nada sense. And you always got a little less “foreign” by the hour. I never wanted to call you out on it. There’s a point when you stop caring who a person isn’t, because you’re more interested in who she is.
    Before tonight, I thought I was getting to know you. It’s hard to cut to the core. But I thought you were a friend.
    And here’s what makes it worse: realizing that not only were you screwing with my mind, but actually plotting against me. Getting me to that party, why? So your big brother or whoever could give me my due? Did you watch? Did you enjoy it?
    This isn’t hate mail, kiddo. Whoever you are. You’re a learning experience.
    So, thanks.

    J.
    ✌ was a Julian symbol, his voucher: “the truth as far as I know it.”
    I shut down and mouse-burrowed under the blankets of my bed.
    This didn’t make any sense. I’d only just met Julian Kilgarry last night, and here was his good-bye. More than