30 | just-world phenomenon
CHAPTER THIRTY
JUST-WORLD PHENOMENON
( — the tendency of people to believe the world is just and that people therefore get what they deserve and deserve what they get. )
— ♡ —
RHIANNON'S HEAD IS ABOUT TO EXPLODE. There are plenty of places she wishes she was at right now, especially her bed, but she seems to be out of luck; instead, she's having Sunday brunch with the Sargents in a too well-lit room that nearly makes her want to scream.
Unfortunately, she can't do that, so she just sits perfectly still in her high chair (and throwing jealous glances at the various bubble chairs scattered around the garden; they're big enough to fit her tall self in them, as long as she remains in a sitting position, and she can even slouch and cross her legs inside its protection). The coffee is served, she hangs her sunglasses on the crown of her head and Ezra reaches out for a plate of sugar cubes.
"That's disgusting, Ez," Jude points out, and Ezra raises an eyebrow, in that arrogant way only he can pull off, and makes sure to dump an extra sugar cube inside his cup, stirring it with a silver spoon. "Stop that."
"Why? I like it this way."
"You like it the wrong way."
"There's no right way of taking your coffee." He brings the cup to his lips, ironically sticking out his pinky finger, and smacks his lips after swallowing the beverage. Samantha Sargent throws him quite an impressive glare, one she usually reserves for people dumping trash on the street, the Fords and insects. "Amazing. This is the best thing I have ever tasted. Rhea, coffee?"
Rhiannon shifts in her chair, pouring herself a second cup after he hands her the coffee pot, and the birds chirp around them, jumping from branch to branch. Even though it's a foggy day, as usual, the sun can be seen from behind the clouds and even the wind has given Vofield a break, ensuring today's brunch could be held outside in the gazebo.
She's flattered to be invited to these things, something that seems so intimate that only family should be invited, but Sean dismisses her worries, pointing out she has "always been family, anyway". That, along with her throbbing hangover and the stupidly overemotional state she has been in, was nearly enough to bring her to tears, but she managed to pull herself together at the very last second.
She even gets special treatment behind these iron gates. Even though Samantha can't treat her as her literal daughter for obvious reasons, she pampers her and cares about her in a way a devoted, caring mother would. After seeing how downright miserable Rhiannon looked after she and Jude stepped through the front door, she immediately rushed her to the so-called 'beauty room'.
There, they both got manicures and pedicures, did face-masks, shared skin care routine tips and had their hair and makeup done. It seemed a bit too excessive for Rhiannon, even though she enjoys taking care of herself and just looking good, but they were only having brunch. Samantha flicked her tongue, saying it was "nonsense", and only didn't get away with letting Rhiannon borrow her clothes because the staff said the table was set.
Jude was thoughtful enough not to say anything about how she stumbled into his dorm room holding a half-empty bottle of Montoya Cabernet just a few hours ago, hence why she looked as defeated as she did when they got here. She's thoughtful enough to not tell him about everything that went down in Rowan's apartment prior to that.
It's not because she doesn't want to, as he's her Gabriella—the one person she can tell everything to, especially because he's involved in this mess as she is, regardless of how innocent they are. It's because she doesn't want to even think about it, as betrayal is one of the worst, most destructive feelings in the world. It weaves its way around your heart and lungs, squeezing so tight you can barely breathe, and spreads into the rest of your body, jumping from neuron to neuron like a synapse.
"So," Sean begins, spinning a cronut between his fingers, and Rhiannon's stomach grumbles as she reaches for one of those herself, "when are you going to start planning the wedding?"
That question spurs a plethora of reactions around the table. Rhiannon, for example, swallows a piece of cronut that's definitely too big for her esophagus, similarly to how she nearly choked with a rose petal at Stephanie and Aaron's wedding. Jude spits his coffee back into the cup, which is more disgusting than Ezra's taste.
That is, until Ezra bursts into laughter.
"I forgot you two are self-centered enough to ignore every other relationship on the planet," he declares, his light-brown waves glowing golden under the gentle lights of the gazebo. Rhiannon and Jude both glare at him, wiping their mouths with their respective napkins. "I proposed to Kenzie."
Rhiannon takes a brief moment to register his words. Ezra and Mackenzie have been dating for longer than Rhiannon can remember, so it was only a matter of time before one of them proposed to the other; Ezra joked it was a race between him and Jude, to see which of them would get engaged first, but Jude spent so much time jumping from relationship to relationship that everyone knew Ezra would win.
Now that they've all settled down, Rhiannon had, somehow, forgotten all about it. It felt so . . . simple, so bound to be forgotten in the middle of all the issues she and Jude have had to deal with since they went to college.
"Congratulations," Jude retorts. "Why did I not know this?"
"I don't know," Ezra softly replies. "Probably because you blew up your own lungs . . . you care more about your cats than you care about anyone else . . ."
"My cats don't spend each free moment of their day trying to find ways of bringing me down."
"Your cats also think your life revolves entirely around them, even when you're not here, which, coincidentally, you also do." He raises his cup of coffee. "You all deserve each other."
"Enough," Sean scolds. "Sunday brunch is a drama-free event. I'm sure Jude and Rhiannon will enjoy a break from . . . whatever the hell is going on in that forsaken university." He shakes his head and Jude's fingers close around Rhiannon's wrist, giving it a soft squeeze—not in a stay calm way, but more like I'm here for you and you're here for me and nothing can take that away from us. "I know it's prestigious and all, but Guerreiro probably won't last until the end of the school year. The poor man."
"And all those poor kids," Samantha adds. "I think it's commendable that all of you are supporting each other, trust me, but, as the investigation begins to close in . . . the police will want to squeeze any relevant information out of you. They'll try to break you, not to mention the press; God knows how desperate the local news need their juicy gossip."
"But, since you two didn't do anything, I doubt there's anything you need to worry about," Ezra continues. "You don't know who did it; all you know is that the two of you are innocent, which the police also know. Dang. I never really liked Northrop back when I still attended, but you're lucky she's on your side."
"Is she?" Rhiannon mutters, a little louder than necessary, and they all turn to her. "I mean, we think she is, but how are we supposed to know whether that's true or not? We don't know her motivations to do anything, like we also didn't know Frances'."
She bites down on her bottom lip to stop herself from running her mouth before she says anything she'll regret, eyes dropping down to her plate. Samantha takes these actions as her feeling upset, which she is, but not for the reasons they might think; Rhiannon truly feels like a monster, incapable of feeling any empathy, but she's able to admit what happened to Frances was horrible, regardless of how horrible he could have been.
It upsets her because it makes her think about the utter mess they've gotten themselves involved in and how difficult it will be to get out of it. It upsets her because it makes her think about Hailey and Gabriella, who, following their desperate and understandable need to protect each other, might have done some pretty awful things.
It upsets her because she fears she'll never find out the truth about what really happened that night. It upsets her because she fears she won't be able to handle it if it ever comes out.
"Rhiannon, sweetie," Samantha coos, leaning forward to gently rub her arm. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"
"It's okay," she quickly replies. "It's okay. I guess I've . . . been a little bit too emotional lately."
"That's new," Ezra comments. "I thought—"
"Shut up, Ezra," all the remaining Sargents order, in unison.
"You're worried about your friends," Sean states, "and yourself. And whatever the future will hold. It's only natural for you to feel something about it, regardless of what certain people"—he throws Ezra a brief accusatory look—"might think about it. Let it all out if you want. Unless . . ."
"What?"
"Well . . ." He exchanges a nervous glance with Samantha. "We think we're still a little bit too young to be grandparents—"
"Oh, God, Dad," Jude complains, mortified. "Let's not do this."
"—and you're too young to be parents," Sean continues, as if he had never gotten interrupted. "Granted, people younger than you might already have children, but please be safe with what you're doing. All of it," he adds, when Jude and Rhiannon open their mouths, "not just your . . . ahem, your love life."
— ♡ —
EVERYONE KEEPS TALKING ABOUT HOW DAMAGING IT CAN BE TO PLACE GOOD PEOPLE IN BAD ENVIRONMENTS. They never talk about how those supposedly 'good' people might have already been bad, since long before they were dumped into that environment; that's a mindset that fully blames nature and ignores nurture, it ignores that some people just plain and simply suck and were born that way.
You know, like Connor Duncan, but there's no lie in saying that attitude has taken him quite far in life. Rhiannon refuses to ever step as low as he did, as she got a tiny taste of what it was like to behave and think like him and suffered the harmful consequences of it. Only certain people can live like that and they're not made—they're born. She'd like to live the rest of her life with a clear conscience, convincing herself she had a fighting chance at some point. She'd like to trust herself enough to know she did the best she could with the resources she had, and those resources were sufficient to not let her end up like Connor.
To not let her end up like her parents.
So, as February slowly fades into March and the minimum temperatures begin to rise almost imperceptibly, melting the snow and bringing back the rain, Rhiannon discovers she has no idea where she stands. Good people, bad people—there must be a gray area in between, depending on the criteria to fully fit each pole.
Good and bad are subjective. That's one of the first things they teach you at school, and, as you grow older, you realize how your moral reasoning evolves; while something might not be legal or morally right in a given situation, you might be inclined to do what you feel is ethically right. You might do what you think is fair.
Rhiannon finds herself trying to come up with excuses for why Hailey and Gabriella might have done what they could have done. She really doesn't want to believe it, especially because of how ridiculous it sounds after everything Hailey has done, not just for her, but for Taylor as well. She can't possibly fathom why Hailey would want to hurt Taylor when she values loyalty as much as she does, and Rhiannon still believes Hailey has too much integrity to ever think about doing something like that—threatening, hitting and wrapping Taylor in plastic before throwing her into the ocean (in Maine, out of all places)—and Gabriella pushing Frances off the top of the staircase is also unthinkable.
There are plenty of people she didn't see on November 29th, but that doesn't mean she can run around and point fingers, accusing them of having gone through the trouble of leaving the country just to do something that terrible.
Hailey is not that type of person. She said it so herself; the other girls wouldn't hurt a fly. Rhiannon knows pretty darn well this is nothing but blind trust, something that can be incredibly dangerous for everyone involved, but she believes her.
It would suck if she didn't. When mostly everyone in that group is still in the gray area between 'people who can't be trusted' and 'people Rhiannon trusts her life with', she's a lot closer to the latter than to the former, even if there's still a considerable distance from it. The second pole is reserved to Jude, with Matteo following close behind, and then there's Roman.
She knows she's not being the best person she could possibly be. She knows she should stand by the girls instead of letting those events pit them against each other, but there are so many other things at stake Rhiannon has to plan each step she takes to the most microscopic detail.
Nevertheless, she's certainly past the trend of hating other girls for petty reasons. Even though she can admit jealousy was the only reason why she didn't like Zelda once they had actually said more than two words for each other, that has since vanished, but they're not close. Rhiannon can't explain why, as she doesn't know it herself, but there's a voice in the back of her head that doesn't let her fully like Zelda.
"Never say I don't like you."
Rhiannon's stare immediately drops from her combat boots to the girl standing next to her, holding two tall cups of coffee. As if Hailey had read her mind, she's standing only a few feet away from her, and the fluorescent lights in the waiting room give her hair a strange orange tone; Rhiannon is used to the gentler strawberry blonde shade, which, along with those doe-like hazel eyes, softens her strong personality.
They keep running into each other in this place. After all, since all the participants have been receiving mandatory psychological support after everyone was released from the hospital with a clean bill of health, but a whole lot of trauma. Most of the time, Rhiannon never knows what to tell the ones she finds in this room, but they also don't try to keep a conversation going.
It might be because there really isn't much to say, other than acknowledging they're all in the same boat and they're all the captains, so they have to take full responsibility. It might be because she always finds a way of driving everyone away from her. It might be because she's terrible with social situations and fears she'll screw up. It might be because she's so desperate to have some control in her life and is so scared of unpredictability, a natural human characteristic, that she's so hesitant about establishing significant relationships.
It's why Rowan was scared of her and thought she hated his guts, when she simply didn't know how to properly approach him. It's why pretty much everyone thinks she's as emotionally available as a concrete wall.
"Thank you," she mutters, accepting the cup Hailey hands her. "Do you have an appointment?"
"Yep." Hailey falls to one of the empty seats. There's no one else here but them and Rhiannon could do the smart thing and sit down, but the clock is ticking and there isn't that much time left before her appointment starts, anyway. "We're working on grief today. That and my grudges, but, personally I don't think there's a problem there; I'm great at handling my grudges."
Rhiannon shudders, with shivers running down her spine, and tiny droplets of steaming hot coffee fall to her hands. "What?"
"I'm a big fan of approaching things headfirst and telling it how it is." She calmly sips her coffee. "I let people know that they suck and then I move on with my life."
"But with no physical violence, right?"
Hailey looks up, clearly amused, and Rhiannon tries to find any traces of hesitation in her facial expression and posture; something like the slight clench of the jaw or the tensing up of the shoulders. That never happens. "Why does everyone think I'm violent?"
"Matteo had to hold you back the night Taylor's body was found"—Hailey briefly looks away, and Rhiannon truly hates that she mentioned such a sensitive subject—"and, let's be honest, I think Northrop feared you might kick her in the face."
Hailey shakes her head. "Like, I was pissed, for me, for Dimitri, for Taylor . . . but I don't have anger issues. I was on the debate team during my four years of high school, and I learned that the best way to prove a point and defend myself is through my words. Not that I can't throw a punch if someone hits me first, but you get the point." She inhales, fixing the knit scarf around her neck. "That's one of the reasons why I think these people are all a bunch of cowards."
"Sorry?"
"The person we're covering up and risking our lives and credibility for, whoever has been texting and calling us, the person who killed Taylor . . . you name it. One of them hides behind lies and a group who's not willing to sacrifice one of them so everyone can be saved; it's kind of noble, but, like, what the hell? Why am I giving these people so much power? If one of us ever decides to open up their damn big mouth and say we're lying and that they're going to tell the truth, we can kiss our safety and freedom goodbye. You and Loverboy have solid proof regarding your alibis, but not everyone else does." She pauses. "Then, those other bastards are hiding behind burner phones and threats."
"Only one of them ever came out of hiding. You saw how that ended up."
"Yeah. And McCall took their identity to the grave."
"Can I ask you something?"
"I'm not going to your baby shower."
Rhiannon gasps. "Why does everyone keep talking to me about babies? First, it was Jude's father, then—"
Hailey throws her a deadpan look. "Rhea, honestly, you need to go out more. Look it up online and have a laugh every now and then. It's a Vine reference," she slowly adds, as if Rhiannon wasn't following. "Go on. Ask."
"What do you think Taylor knew that was so bad someone decided to ruin her life over?" She fidgets, while Hailey remains firm. "Sutton told me . . . she only told two people about the texts. Sutton herself and Chancellor Guerreiro. We know Dimitri knew about them too and started getting the texts before I did. I thought . . . Gabriella told you about what happened once in McCall's office with Laura and Northrop, right?" Hailey nods once. "I don't think he had anything to do with it. I know that man and know that, if he had any suspicions about professors covering up for the students who had killed someone, he'd step up turns; Sutton also said he knew about the texts because Taylor asked him for help, but he thought it was just a silly prank that would end in a few days or weeks."
Hailey lets out a sad sigh. "Damn."
"Yeah. Do you know anything—"
"I didn't kill Taylor." When Hailey looks up, her eyes are rimmed with tears, and Rhiannon's chest tightens. "I swear to God I didn't do it. I would never do something like that to her—or to anyone—regardless of how furious I was at them. I was angry because she wouldn't listen to us and because she didn't trust us enough to let us help her. I never meant . . . I didn't want things to go as far as they did." She wipes a tear from her cheek with her coat's sleeve. "Gabby says I'm scary when I get angry, and Taylor was like a tiny kitten. Perhaps I scared her a little bit when I said all those things to her, that she was being unreasonable and an utter idiot, but I never . . . I didn't do it."
Rhiannon swallows, but her voice still comes out croaky when she asks, "Where were you on November 29th?"
Hailey opens her mouth to answer, but, before any words can come out, Rhiannon's therapist exits her office. After throwing them both a small, warm smile, she steps aside to let Rhiannon enter the room, indirectly telling them their conversation will have to wait.
Before the door closes, Rhiannon sees Hailey pull her phone out of her pocket, after it presumably vibrated, and slide her thumb across the screen to unlock the device. Her eyebrows furrow, with a crease showing up between them as she reads, and, when she looks up, her eyes are wide open.
Rhiannon's own phone vibrates four times mere seconds after, and she knows exactly what it is. She wonders why she thought these had stopped coming—it will never stop, not until the truth gets out or the police drop the case.
Neither of them seems to be more likely than the other at this point.
BLOCKED NUMBER, 02:01 PM: There are unbreakable bonds, and maybe yours is one of them after what you did. Maybe you're not as unbreakable when you're on your own.
BLOCKED NUMBER, 02:02 PM: There's strength and safety in numbers, but you know what they say: loyalty might weigh more than those numbers. Are you really what you all think you are?
BLOCKED NUMBER, 02:02 PM: Liar liar, house on fire. The clocks are ticking.
BLOCKED NUMBER, 02:03 PM: The higher they go, the harder they fall. Good thing you ensured that would happen to Frances, but maybe you should have thought about those you're placing your trust in.
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