Chapter 8 - The Part About the Money
The room went quiet in a way I had never heard before. Not like when the teacher claps her hands. More like everyone stopped breathing at the same time.
Mom's hand was still on my back. I could feel it shaking through my yellow cardigan. The microphone was heavy in my hand. My palm was sweaty around it.
Mr. Graham was standing now. He was a tall man in a dark suit near the front table. He looked at the big black screen, then at me.
"Play it," he said. His voice was low.
The DJ clicked something on his laptop. A little line of blue light moved across the screen. Then the sound came out of the speakers. It crackled at first.
I knew that voice right away. It was the same cold voice from earlier. The one that had said, She brought that worthless kid. Sit in the back.
On the sound, a woman laughed a little. Then she said, "Just keep Claire in the back. Don't let her near Graham."
My breath caught. Mom's fingers pressed harder into my back.
Another voice answered. A man's voice, quieter. "What about the payment? She keeps asking about the agreement."
"Tell her after," the first voice said. "She doesn't talk to Graham until I say. If she talks, we lose it. Keep her quiet through dinner."
I looked at Mom. Her face went white. She stared at the speakers like she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
Around us, people at the white tables stopped moving their forks. Nobody drank. The fairy lights behind the DJ booth blinked and blinked. The chandelier over us felt too bright and too hot.
Mr. Graham took a step forward onto the white dance floor. His shoes made a loud sound.
"Stop," he said to the DJ. He held up his hand. Then he turned and looked straight at Vanessa.
Vanessa was still standing close to us. Her white lace sleeves trembled. Her updo had come a little loose on one side.
"Whose voices are those?" Mr. Graham asked. "What payment? What agreement?"
Vanessa smiled fast. Too fast. "Richard, please," she said. Her voice shook. "You know how these things get twisted."
Mr. Graham didn't smile back. "I asked who ordered it," he said louder. "Who told them to keep her from me?"
I swallowed. My throat hurt. I held the microphone tighter because my hand wanted to drop it.
Vanessa looked around at all the guests. Then she looked at me. Her eyes were wet but angry.
"She edited it," Vanessa said, pointing at me. Her long sleeve slipped back a little. "She's eight. She doesn't understand. Someone helped her cut that together."
A few people gasped. A man at the front table stood up halfway.
Mom spoke then. Quiet, but clear. "Lily doesn't know how to edit anything," she said.
Vanessa turned on her. "Claire, stop this," she said. "Please. Shut it off. Shut it off before you ruin everything."
She said it the same way she had said it before, sharp and panicked. Shut it off. My chest tightened because I remembered her running toward me across the dance floor.
Mr. Graham — Richard — looked from Vanessa to Mom to me. I saw something change in his face. His eyebrows pulled together. He wasn't looking at Vanessa like she was the bride anymore.
"You knew Claire was trying to talk to me?" he asked Vanessa. "About money?"
Vanessa shook her head fast. "No. There is no — it's wedding stuff. Vendors. You don't understand—"
"Then why say my name?" he cut in. "Why say keep her from Graham?"
The room got loud then. People started talking over each other.
"Play the rest."
"Let the kid finish."
"We want to hear the full clip."
My heart beat so fast I could feel it in my ears. I looked up at Mom. She was breathing hard, staring at Mr. Graham like she wanted to say something but was scared to.
Mr. Graham pointed at the DJ booth. "Don't you touch that power," he said. "Nobody touches anything until this plays out."
Vanessa took a step back. No one moved closer to her. The space around her white dress got empty. All the guests watched her, not me now.
May you like
I still held the microphone. Mom bent a little so her shoulder touched mine. She didn't take the mic from me. She just stayed there.
I stared at the screen, waiting for the blue line to move again.
