Chapter 4
Mia didn’t hesitate.
“Send me the address,” she said. “I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
I gave her the code to the back door—my dad’s birthday, backwards. Told her my laptop was in the back of my closet, inside an old winter boot box. Told her to be quiet, that my dad was probably home, that he was on Lila’s side.
“Be careful,” I said.
“Always,” she said.
I hung up. My hands were shaking. If Mia got caught… my dad would call the police. He’d say she was trespassing. He’d use it against me, say I was trying to plant evidence.
But I had no choice.
An hour later, my phone buzzed. A text from Mia.
Got it. Also… found something else. You’re not gonna believe this.
My stomach flipped.
What? I texted back.
Can’t say over text. On my way to the hospital.
10 minutes later, Mia snuck into my room. She’d changed into scrubs she’d stolen from her mom’s nursing job, a fake ID badge clipped to her pocket. She looked just like a student nurse.
She locked the door behind her. Pulled my laptop out of her backpack, set it on the table by the bed.
“Okay,” she said, opening it. “First, the voicemail. It’s there. I checked.”
She clicked play.
Lila’s voice filled the room, sharp and angry.
“You think you’re so smart, Mia? Getting that scholarship? You don’t deserve it. It was mine. And I’m going to make you pay. I’m going to take everything you have. Just you wait.”
The recording cut off.
Tears burned my eyes. That was it. That was proof Lila had threatened me.
“Great,” I said. “Now we just need to show this to Det. Carter and—”
“Wait,” Mia said, holding up a hand. She pulled a beat-up leather journal out of her backpack. The cover had Lila’s name scrawled across it in pink marker.
“I found this in the basement,” she said. “Tucked behind the water heater. I was leaving your room and heard your dad talking to Karen in the kitchen. Had to hide down there for 10 minutes. Found this while I was waiting.”
She opened it. Flipped to the first page.
My blood ran cold.
It was Lila’s journal.
Page after page of rants about me.
She hates me. She thinks she’s better than me.
I applied to Northwestern three times. Three times! And she gets in on her first try? It’s not fair.
I’m going to make her regret it. I’m going to ruin her life.
Mia flipped further.
June 15: Found a website that lets you fake email addresses. Made one that looks just like Mia’s. Wrote the confession email. Saved it. Will send it to myself after I push her.
June 20: Bought a new phone. No contract. Will use it to send the email so it can’t be traced back to me.
July 3: Tomorrow’s the cookout. Everyone will be inside eating pie. She always stays on the porch alone. Perfect time.
July 4: It worked. She fell. Heard her bones crack. It was beautiful. The police will believe me. She’s going to jail. And the scholarship will be mine.
I stared at the page.
Lila had planned every single second of it.
The fake emails. The new phone. The timing of the push.
She’d thought of everything.
Except hiding her journal well enough.
Mia flipped to the last page. Dated that morning.
She’s not backing down. I’ll go to the hospital tonight. Threaten her. If she still doesn’t confess… I’ll release the emails. Then it’s over.
I looked up at Mia.
“We have to give this to Det. Carter,” I said. “Now.”
Mia nodded. “I already called him. He’s on his way. Said to tell no one. Not even your mom.”
15 minutes later, Det. Carter knocked on the door. Mia let him in. He looked at the journal, then at the laptop, then at me.
He didn’t say anything for a long time. Just flipped through the journal, page by page, his face getting darker and darker.
When he finished, he closed it. Looked at me.
“This changes everything,” he said.
He pulled out his phone. Called someone. Spoke in low, urgent tones.
“Get a warrant for Lila’s house,” he said. “Look for a burner phone. Any computers. Any evidence of fake email accounts. And pick her up. Now.”
He hung up. Looked at me.
“Lila is going to be arrested again,” he said. “This time, she’s not getting out on bail. Not with this.”
He tapped the journal.
“This is premeditation. This is assault. This is tampering with evidence. She’s looking at serious time, Mia.”
I felt a weight lift off my chest.
It was over.
Or so I thought.
The next morning, the hospital room was chaos.
Reporters were outside. The local news had gotten wind of the story. “Local Teen Faked Assault To Steal Cousin’s Scholarship” the headlines read. Lila’s lawyer had released the fake emails to the press before the police could arrest her.
My dad showed up, screaming.
“What did you do?” he yelled at my mom. “You helped her plant that journal, didn’t you? You’ve always hated Karen! You’ve always hated Lila!”
“Tom, that journal is real,” my mom said, her voice steady. “The police checked the handwriting. It’s Lila’s. The dates match. The ink is aged. It’s not fake.”
“I don’t care!” he yelled. “You’re ruining that girl’s life! And for what? So your precious daughter can go to a fancy college?”
He looked at me. His eyes were cold.
“You’re no daughter of mine,” he said.
He turned and walked out.
I stared at the door. My chest hurt.
My dad had disowned me.
My mom wrapped her arms around me.
“He’s wrong, baby,” she whispered. “He’s so wrong. And he’ll see that. I promise.”
I wanted to believe her.
But as I watched the news on the hospital TV—reporters saying I was a liar, that I’d faked my own injuries—I wasn’t so sure.
May you like
Lila might have been arrested.
But she was still winning.
