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Three days have passed since I last saw James and Lydia. I've been locked in my room, ignoring my brothers' attempts to coax me out.
My brothers were knocking on the door again.
I wish I had the energy to send them away. I understand they're worried, but I just don't feel like I can do anything or talk to anyone right now, even if they're my brothers.
"Lin is on the phone," Sebastian says, peeking through the door.
Frowning, I pull the blanket from my face and turn to face both my siblings. Sebastian is standing in front of my bed, holding a phone out to me, while Erik stands by the door, observing.
I squint, recognizing the phone in Sebastian's hand. It's mine, and Lin's name is flashing on the screen.
"You took my cell phone?" I ask weakly. Outrage bubbles up but quickly dissipates.
For the past few days, my body has felt like a black hole, swallowing every emotion before it can reach me. Nothing gets through anymore. I don't feel like doing anything. Getting out of bed feels like running a marathon, and I haven't gone downstairs in days.
The idea of showering, getting dressed, and being around people is overwhelming. I couldn't bear to see James. If I saw him, I would probably collapse like a wilted flower or burst into tears.
"Tell her I'll call her back," I mumble, my voice scratchy from disuse.
Sebastian doesn't move. "You should talk to her now."
"I don't want to talk to her now." What I want is a little time to get back on my feet.
Three days isn't enough to face Lin and her questions. I only sent her a short message on Wednesday. She doesn't know exactly what happened between me and James in Oxford, and I don't have the strength to tell her about it. Or what happened afterward.
I wish I could forget last week and pretend everything is normal. Unfortunately, that's impossible when I can't even get out of bed.
"Please, Iris," Erik finally speaks, walking closer to my bed. "I don't know why you're so sad and why you won't talk to us, but Lin told us something. I think you guys should really talk."
I glare at Erik, but when I see the determined look on his face, I know I've lost. They won't leave my room until I talk to Lin. In some ways, we are just too similar, and stubbornness is definitely one of our shared traits.
Resigned, I stretch out my hand and take the phone.
"Lin?" I ask through the phone.
"Iris, sweetie, we really need to talk." Her tone tells me she knows. She knows what James did. She knows he ripped out my heart and trampled on it. If Lin knows, the rest of the school probably does too.
"I don't want to talk about James," I begin. "I never want to talk about him again, okay?"
Lin is quiet for a moment. I hear her take a deep breath. "Your brothers told me you went out with Lydia on Wednesday night." I don't say anything, just fiddle with the hem of my blanket with my free hand. "Is that where you found out?"
I let out a toneless laugh. "What do you mean? That he's an asshole?"
Lin sighs. "Did Lydia really not tell you anything?"
"What would she have told me?" I ask hesitantly.
"Iris... Did you see my message from earlier?" Lin's tone is so careful that I suddenly feel cold and hot at the same time.
I swallow dryly. "No, I haven't looked at my phone since Wednesday."
Lin takes a deep breath. "Then you really don't know yet."
"What don't I know yet?"
"Iris, are you sitting up?" I sit up in bed. You don't ask that unless something absolutely terrible has happened. Suddenly, the image of James with Elaine, drunk in that pool, is replaced by a much more gruesome image. James in an accident. James in the hospital.
"What's going on?" I croak.
"Cordelia Beaufort died last Monday." It takes me a moment to process her words.
Cordelia Beaufort died last Monday.
An unbearable silence spreads between us.
James' mother is dead. Since Monday.
I remember our deep kisses, his hands restlessly running over my naked body, the overwhelming feeling when he was inside me. It's impossible that James knew that evening. No, he and Lydia must have found out on Wednesday.
I hear Lin speaking, but I can't concentrate on her words. I'm too busy wondering if Mortimer Beaufort kept their mother's death a secret from his children for two days. If so, how terrible must James and Lydia have felt when they came home on Wednesday and found out?
I remember Lydia's swollen, red eyes as she stood at my door and asked if James was with me. The blank, emotionless look James gave me. The moment he jumped into the pool, ruining everything that had happened between us the night before.
A painful throbbing spreads through my body. I take the phone away from my ear and turn on the speaker.
Then I click through my messages. I open the history displayed under an unknown number. Three unread messages appear:
Iris. I'm so sorry. I can explain everything to you. Please come back to Cyril's or tell me where you are so Percy can pick you up. Our mum died. James is going crazy. I don't know what to do.
"Lin," I whisper. "Is that really true?"
"Yes," Lin whispers back. "A press release went out earlier, and less than half a minute later the news was everywhere."
Silence spreads between us again. My head is spinning with thousands of thoughts at once. Nothing seems to make sense anymore.
Nothing but this one feeling that comes over me so suddenly and violently that the next words bubble out of me as if by themselves: "I have to go to him."
