comments, but at this point no
one could be considered completely innocent.
The next grouping Sasha uncovered was much more curious than
the previous two: there were a number of people who didn’t think Laura looked
that much like Sarah Castro-Tanner at all. Sasha tended to agree.
The very first thing she had done after learning the name
Laura Rivers was look her up online. Her profile page was filled with pictures
taken in the California sunshine, all of which were annoyingly perfect. There
were shots of Laura riding a bike along the pristine California boardwalk, a
few selfies taken in a brand new convertible—of course the L.A.
girl had a convertible—and a series from some bonfire party. These were
the images Sasha stared at for longer than she was willing to admit. She
couldn’t take her eyes off one picture in particular—an image of Laura
wrapped up in a fleece blanket beside the fire. The flames barely lit the right
side of her face, so Sasha could see most of her features. In Sasha’s opinion,
Laura looked like a distant cousin of Sarah’s, at best. Some features were
similar, but it wasn’t enough to fool Sasha—at least not from the angle of
the photo.
Sasha placed the messages from this group, which she called
“deniers,” into the orange category: high priority. In order to voice the
unpopular opinion that the new girl and the girl who’d committed suicide didn’t
look alike, these people must have known Sarah Castro-Tanner’s face pretty
well. These were people Sasha was interested in watching. They were either so
familiar with Sarah that they couldn’t see her face in Laura’s or, even more
telling, they were lying about the similarities that they saw.
Sasha thought back to an article about the psychology of
lying that she’d stumbled upon during one of her marathon sessions online.The
best way to detach is often to deny, the article explained. That’s why she
considered this group so suspect.If one of these students had
information about Sarah, they’d been keeping it a secret. They’d maintained a
lie of omission for all the past eighteen months, so they would be inclined to
bury the story again by disregarding Laura.
It wasn’t until Sasha discovered the fourth and final group
that she wondered if all her earlier theories were wrong.
That final group didn’t surface until Friday afternoon. Most
people used Sarah’s name at least a dozen times as they talked about Laura. It
was almost impossible to talk about one person in relation to another without
ever referencing the first person’s name, but two people among the hundreds
she’dhacked did just that. They made an effort to not use the
words Sarah Castro-Tanner, dancing around her name like referencing it either
wasn’t allowed or wasn’t possible. The move struck Sasha as too curious to
ignore. She clicked through the individual lines of text to find the source of
this confusing feed.
MandaBear: Please talk to me, Charlie. I seriously do not know what you’re
so upset about. What is going on??
CSanders: The VidBits. Don’t play dumb. It’s too late.
MandaBear: I didn’t do whatever you’re talking about, and I didn’t record
that night. Why would I want to remember what happened?
CSanders: Who knows.
MandaBear: I want to forget everything just as much as you. I would never
torture you about her. That’s why I was weird about Laura, because I just want
to forget. Don’t you?
Sasha read the exchange over and over until her eyes went
completely blurry. She knew that it was real, but it still seemed unbelievable.
One week ago the idea of knowing Sarah’s true story was a distant dream. Now
Sasha had uncovered two people who knew something about Sarah that they wanted
to forget, and it would only take her seconds to figure out their real names.
Chapter 4
September
6
Laura
Laura settled into her favorite
corner of the velvety sectional couch in her living room and wrapped herself in
the blue, plaid
one could be considered completely innocent.
The next grouping Sasha uncovered was much more curious than
the previous two: there were a number of people who didn’t think Laura looked
that much like Sarah Castro-Tanner at all. Sasha tended to agree.
The very first thing she had done after learning the name
Laura Rivers was look her up online. Her profile page was filled with pictures
taken in the California sunshine, all of which were annoyingly perfect. There
were shots of Laura riding a bike along the pristine California boardwalk, a
few selfies taken in a brand new convertible—of course the L.A.
girl had a convertible—and a series from some bonfire party. These were
the images Sasha stared at for longer than she was willing to admit. She
couldn’t take her eyes off one picture in particular—an image of Laura
wrapped up in a fleece blanket beside the fire. The flames barely lit the right
side of her face, so Sasha could see most of her features. In Sasha’s opinion,
Laura looked like a distant cousin of Sarah’s, at best. Some features were
similar, but it wasn’t enough to fool Sasha—at least not from the angle of
the photo.
Sasha placed the messages from this group, which she called
“deniers,” into the orange category: high priority. In order to voice the
unpopular opinion that the new girl and the girl who’d committed suicide didn’t
look alike, these people must have known Sarah Castro-Tanner’s face pretty
well. These were people Sasha was interested in watching. They were either so
familiar with Sarah that they couldn’t see her face in Laura’s or, even more
telling, they were lying about the similarities that they saw.
Sasha thought back to an article about the psychology of
lying that she’d stumbled upon during one of her marathon sessions online.The
best way to detach is often to deny, the article explained. That’s why she
considered this group so suspect.If one of these students had
information about Sarah, they’d been keeping it a secret. They’d maintained a
lie of omission for all the past eighteen months, so they would be inclined to
bury the story again by disregarding Laura.
It wasn’t until Sasha discovered the fourth and final group
that she wondered if all her earlier theories were wrong.
That final group didn’t surface until Friday afternoon. Most
people used Sarah’s name at least a dozen times as they talked about Laura. It
was almost impossible to talk about one person in relation to another without
ever referencing the first person’s name, but two people among the hundreds
she’dhacked did just that. They made an effort to not use the
words Sarah Castro-Tanner, dancing around her name like referencing it either
wasn’t allowed or wasn’t possible. The move struck Sasha as too curious to
ignore. She clicked through the individual lines of text to find the source of
this confusing feed.
MandaBear: Please talk to me, Charlie. I seriously do not know what you’re
so upset about. What is going on??
CSanders: The VidBits. Don’t play dumb. It’s too late.
MandaBear: I didn’t do whatever you’re talking about, and I didn’t record
that night. Why would I want to remember what happened?
CSanders: Who knows.
MandaBear: I want to forget everything just as much as you. I would never
torture you about her. That’s why I was weird about Laura, because I just want
to forget. Don’t you?
Sasha read the exchange over and over until her eyes went
completely blurry. She knew that it was real, but it still seemed unbelievable.
One week ago the idea of knowing Sarah’s true story was a distant dream. Now
Sasha had uncovered two people who knew something about Sarah that they wanted
to forget, and it would only take her seconds to figure out their real names.
Chapter 4
September
6
Laura
Laura settled into her favorite
corner of the velvety sectional couch in her living room and wrapped herself in
the blue, plaid
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