by Nancy Holder
Then his smile faded as he dropped his voice even lower. “Hey. Did you hear about Jilly Delgado’s horse?”
She nodded. “It’s horrible.”
He toyed with the magazine, rolling it between his hands. “Poor thing’s neck was severed almost clean off. There was blood everywhere. The stable hands who found it said they thought it was mud at first, it was so thick.” He gazed into the distance—almost as if he were looking at something else. Something invisible to her.
Sickened, Hazel worked overtime not to see any of it. She crossed her arms, hugging herself. She’d been to Jilly’s stable, Brookhaven Ranch, years ago for a birthday party. She’d ridden Spirit. She could remember the way he chuffed and shook his mane. His steady gait and big brown eyes.
“And its left eye—”
“Matty, stop,” she pleaded.
He tapped the magazine. “Sorry. It’s just…maybe I do have a journalist’s fascination with this kind of thing. There are a lot of strange people out there, Haze. And a lot of serial killers start out with animals.”
Hazel felt a chill. “God. That’s uplifting.”
Matty sighed and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “I gotta get back.” He looked at her with a penetrating stare. “I don’t mean to scare you, but you should be careful, Haze. Stick with your girlfriends. Don’t take chances.”
“I won’t. We won’t.” She frowned slightly. “It seems like we do just about everything together.”
“Okay.” He tucked the magazine under his arm. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Hazel had no idea how she was going to get anything done now.
Poor Jilly, she thought, shivering. What kind of person would hack up a poor, defenseless horse?
CHAPTER SIX
At the game, the PLDs huddled together in the bleachers, sharing a big, scratchy blanket.
Despite the fact that the Highlanders were winning, Hazel felt like the PLDs were the main event—sitting front and center and drawing everyone’s interest.
Hazel had to admit that she loved the attention. She cheered loudly and wagged her purple-scrunchied ponytail whenever the team scored.
Sylvia had brought popcorn, and the PLDs discreetly shared a flask filled with scotch. Hazel abstained. Sylvia had her booked for a babysitting gig after halftime. She didn’t want to show up at Charlie’s house smelling like a distillery.
She threw a Hershey’s Kiss into her mouth instead.
Between plays, Daliah Firestone and Francesca Morano slid over to say hi.
Daliah and Francesca were popular girls, known for their style and their rep as stars of the drama club. Hazel would have given anything to hang with them just a few weeks ago. Now the tables were turned.
“Hazel,” Francesca gushed, “I love your outfit. That shirt is totally cute.”
Hazel glanced down at herself. She had on jeans, a long-sleeve T-shirt with a rhinestone cowgirl on it, and her black hoodie. Nothing special.
“And those jeans!” Daliah continued. “They’re the perfect wash. What brand are they?”
Hazel had opened her mouth to accept the compliment when Sylvia cut in.
“Merci!” she said. “Our Hazel has the best clothes, doesn’t she?”
Francesca nodded, obviously thrilled to have Sylvia’s attention.
A roar sounded from the large crowd and everyone leapt to their feet. Hazel jumped up, craning her neck to see what she’d missed.
Carolyn nudged her. “Your boyfriend just completed a huge play!”
Hazel didn’t know anything about football, but she knew Matty was a wide receiver. She spotted him high-fiving Josh. Then he turned directly to where she was sitting and pointed, his face breaking into the broadest smile. He gave a little wave, then returned to the game.
“Ooh, sweet!” Sylvia teased Hazel.
“Matty Vardeman.” Daliah sighed. “He’s so hot. You’re so lucky!”
This is like a dream. The other girls don’t just like me. They envy me—they want to be me.
That is what being a PLD is all about, Hazel thought.
At halftime, the cheerleaders took over the field. Breona Wu, who seemed to have recovered from her afternoon meltdown, was the star of the show. She vaulted into the air, balancing on top of a complicated human pyramid.
She tumbled down, then held up a cardboard sign with the number 43 painted on it.
Forty-three. Matty’s number, Hazel realized. She stared at Breona as she whooped and hollered. Was it that I had a carnation or that I had Matty’s carnation that made Breona so insane?
Hazel wasn’t sure. When you were a PLD, there was just so much drama.
When Hazel showed at the Pollins house, she fed Charlie some mac and cheese. He went to bed in his roomful of gadgets, and she settled in the living room, delving into her homework.
She was engrossed in history when the doorbell rang. She set down her book, uncurled her legs from the sofa, and went to the door. She checked the peephole, fully expecting to see one of the PLDs on the porch.
Oh my God!
It was Matty, in jeans and jacket, his dark, curly hair glistening from a post-game shower. He must have seen her peering through the hole, because he waved.
Warmth rushed through her and she fumbled to unlock the door quickly. When she yanked it open, he smiled at her hesitantly. “Hey.”
“Hey.” She opened the door wider, gesturing for him to come in.
“Sylvia told me you were here,” he said. “She thought you might need some company.”
“I do,” she confirmed. He put his arms around her and kissed her gently.
“So, did you go to the after-party?” she asked as they broke apart and moved into the living room.
He nodded. “Yeah, but not for long. I drove Stephan over there. Did you know he used to go out with Megan?”
Hazel’s mouth dropped open. “You’re kidding! That’s—I mean, she hates him.”
“I think the feeling is mutual. He kept trying to convince me that she’s gay or something. I told him it was none of my business.”
Hazel stared at him. “Megan? Gay? No, it’s—”
She’d been about to tell him that Carolyn was the lesbian, but Sylvia had said not to spread it around.
Matty took off his jacket. “That’s what some guys say when a girl ticks them off. It’s either that or that she’s a prude. All I know is, she must have hurt him bad.”
Hazel processed that. Or tried to. Of the two, Stephan seemed more capable of doing the hurting than Megan.
She shook her head. “I can’t even picture them together.”
“Me neither.” He paused. “So how’s Charlie?”
“Asleep,” she said.
The telltale beeping of a computer game sounded from Charlie’s room.
Matty laughed. “Asleep, huh? Let’s go see.”
He grabbed her hand and led her down the hall. Hazel tried very hard not to melt at the feel of Matty’s strong fingers wrapped around her own.
Hazel knocked on the door. Charlie’s high, small voice answered. “Come in.”
Matty pushed open the door. “Hello, carbon unit,” it announced.
Charlie was sitting in bed, playing with his Game Boy. “Matty!” he cried, leaping up. “My dad and I put up the posters and I’ve had three calls about Isotope!”
“That’s great,” Matty cheered.
“None of the cats were him, though,” Charlie said, lowering his voice. “Just cats that looked like him.”
“Don’t give up hope,” Matty said. “I’ll bet he just went roaming. He’ll be home soon.”
Charlie sighed. Then he held up his Game Boy. “Hey, do you want to play for a while? I’ve got Rayman 3.”
“Awesome.” Matty pulled up the same chair he’d used when he made his sketch.
“Do you guys want something to drink?” Hazel asked.
“Sure. Water is fine,” Matty said.
“We have some Sprite in the refrigerator,” Charlie said eage
rly.
“Sprite it is, then,” Matty amended. “Make it a round, please.”
Hazel went into the kitchen and got three Sprites out of the fridge. She grabbed a bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa.
She balanced it all against her chest and turned toward the bedroom.
“Oh!” she cried. Matty was there, blocking her way.
“Charlie’s a sweet kid, but I hope you know—I didn’t actually come here to play video games.” He slowly removed each item from her arms and set them down on the counter.
His fingers brushed her collarbone. Chills rippled across her chest.
He tilted his head, gazed at her with an adoring expression, and brushed his lips over hers. “Hazel,” he whispered.
She put her arms around his neck and gave in. They leaned into each other. The feel of Matty’s lips made Hazel dizzy. She struggled to maintain control.
It’s okay, she thought. This is good. This is real. It’s not like what happened last summer.
The memory of that night in August hit her like a bucket of ice water. She hadn’t told anyone about it—and she didn’t want to make the same mistake again.
She broke away. “Charlie’s waiting.”
“He’s got his Game Boy,” Matty protested, putting his arms around her again. “He doesn’t even know we’re gone.”
“I know, but…” She smiled uncertainly. “It’s…I just don’t think…”
He huffed. His brown eyes narrowed.
Hazel panicked. Was he angry? Did he think she had led him on?
Then she remembered that she was a PLD. Would Sylvia care if Josh was mad at her? Not likely. Hazel had the right to say no. If that was all he wanted from her, then he was a jerk.
Matty recovered quickly. He smiled. “Sorry, Hazel. I don’t mean to rush you.”
“It’s—it’s okay,” she murmured.
For about an hour they all sat in Matty’s room, playing video games. Matty let Charlie win. Each time, Charlie jumped up on his bed, doing a little victory dance. It sent Hazel and Matty into fits of hysterics.
After a while, Hazel reached over and checked the watch on Matty’s right hand. “Almost midnight.”
Matty yawned. “Wow. I should go.”
“Yeah, I guess you should,” Hazel agreed reluctantly. He reached out a hand to help her up.
She walked him to the door and they kissed for a few more minutes. She didn’t want it to stop. Ever. But he had to go.
“Lock this door, okay?” he instructed.
“I will,” Hazel promised. She tingled as she watched him go through the arch and down the walk to his car.
“Lock it,” he insisted again before getting in. He started the engine and pulled away.
No longer caring about seeming cool, Hazel watched until she could no longer see Matty’s taillights. Then she shut the door and turned the dead bolt.
She padded back down the hall to find Charlie fast asleep. She put an extra blanket over him and shut off his light.
She walked back to the living room to study. As she crossed the threshold, her cell phone went off.
Could it be Matty? She dug the phone out of her pack and checked the caller ID. ID BLOCKED. She pressed the connect button and put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Are you alone in the house?” The voice was disguised, midway between a growl and a hoarse whisper.
“Hey, guys,” she said merrily. “Guess what!”
“Because I’m in the study, waiting for you.”
“Ha ha! Wrong!” she said triumphantly. “I checked the locks, inside and out. You are so lying!”
“But I’m dead. I’m a ghost. I’m incorporeal.”
“No, you’re Katie and Chrissie Darling,” Hazel said, laughing. “Matty came by. Thank you for sending him over.”
“You let him in the house?”
“Damn straight,” she said proudly.
“Without a chaperone? You are a bad babysitter!”
“The evilest,” she confirmed.
“You will pay!”
“No, I will get paid.” She carried the phone into the kitchen, remembering then that she had left dishes in Charlie’s room. She would have to clean them up before Mr. Pollins got home.
“No. You will get laid,” the voice said. Then a crescendo of evil laughter preceded the dial tone.
Hazel giggled, appreciative of the prank. In their own twisted way, it meant the PLDs cared.
Then she tiptoed into Charlie’s room, got the dirty dishes, and carried everything into the kitchen. She was drying the last of the three glasses when the landline rang. She grabbed the receiver off the wall unit and put it to her ear.
“Pollins residence.”
“Someone should warn you.” Another disguised voice. Deeper this time.
“Wow. You guys must be bored. I know. I suck. I’m a bad babysitter.” She put the glasses on the shelf, closed the cabinet door, and hung the dish towel back on the hook beside the door to the pantry.
“You think I’m one of your friends? News flash. They’re not your friends.”
The caller snickered. The sound was rough—mean. It rendered Hazel speechless.
“They would turn on you in a second if it came down to you or one of them. You should watch your back. Popular girls are only out for themselves. If they’re ever threatened, they’ll throw you to the wolves.”
“Who is this?” she said, shaken.
The dial tone buzzed in her ear.
She hung up the phone and replayed the voice in her mind. Who did it sound like? She felt certain that she recognized it somehow.
The landline rang.
Don’t answer it, Hazel told herself. But Mr. Pollins had instructed her to.
“Pollins residence.”
“Time for some homework?” the growling voice asked. “How about this: if a horse bleeds to death at a gallon a minute and a cat bleeds to death at a cup at a minute, which animal suffers more?”
Hazel’s stomach clenched. Hard. “Hey, whoever? You’re sick, and this isn’t funny.”
“I should know the answer. I killed them both. And I need more. I’m right outside the door. Guess who’s going to be next?”
Hazel slammed down the phone.
It rang again. She stared at it.
She backed away, hunched over, with her arms wrapped around her body. This was beyond a prank. This was extreme.
But…it had to be the PLDs. Didn’t it?
What if it isn’t? a voice inside her asked. What if it’s the psycho who killed Jilly’s horse?
Hazel hurried down the hall to check on Charlie. He was asleep, snoring softly.
The cordless in the hall blared, and a loud banging shook the front door. Hazel jumped and let out a small shriek.
She put the cordless to her ear. The voice on the other end hissed, “Charlie’s sleeping, nice and peaceful. I’m right outside. What are you going to do?”
Hazel’s heart thundered as she crept toward the door. The brass knob rattled violently. Had she locked it? Yes, after Matty left. But would the bolt hold?
There was only one thing to do. She had to call the police. If she could just sneak a peek at whoever was outside first…
She took a ragged breath and moved slowly, cautiously toward the peephole.
Oh, please, please let it be a joke….
The caller’s words rang in her ear. Guess who’s going to be next?
Hazel put her hand on the knob.
The door burst open—and she screamed!
CHAPTER SEVEN
Hazel leapt out of the way as the front door slammed against the wall.
“God! Oh God, Hazel! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Charlie’s father lurched forward to grab the door, holding out a reassuring hand. “It’s just me, kiddo. My key was stuck in the lock for a minute. Just me. Don’t be scared.”
Hazel panted, struggling to catch her breath. She switched off the cordless and held it in
both hands.
“Are you all right?”
She cleared her throat and tried to smile, having no idea if she actually managed it. She wondered how much she should tell him.
“There was a wrong number. I think it was kids pranking. But they were really trying to scare me—”
“Oh. Well, we can’t have that. I’ll try redialing and seeing if I can find out who they were. I’m sorry about that, Hazel. What did they say?”
She hesitated, and in that space, he asked, “How’s Charlie?”
“He had a pretty good night. He’s asleep now.”
Mr. Pollins sighed. His shoulders slumped. “He’s still awfully overwhelmed.”
Hazel figured Mr. Pollins was pretty overwhelmed too. He looked tired. Bags formed under his bloodshot eyes. He yawned.
“These past few nights I’ve had to work late and I’m not as young as I used to be.” He glanced over at her. “Did Charlie talk about Isotope?”
She nodded. He looked at her very sadly. “I don’t know if I should tell him this or not, but I found Isotope.”
Hazel’s heart thudded. “Oh. No.”
“He’d been dead a couple of days. I think he ate something. Snail bait, maybe. I put him in the trash. Don’t tell Charlie. I need to do it myself.”
“Snail bait?” she asked. “You mean he was poisoned. Not…injured?”
“Not a scratch. I can only hope he didn’t suffer.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Hazel was grateful that Mr. Pollins had insisted on walking her to her car. She set her cell phone in the cup holder between the two front seats. Then she slid in and started the engine.
“Thanks again.” Mr. Pollins gave her a wave and went back into the house.
As Hazel pulled away from the curb, her phone lit up. She grabbed it out of the cup holder.
It was a text message.
YRSECRETPAL2PURPLEHAZE: Here, kitty kitty!
“You guys,” she said, her voice wavering.
PERSONAL BLOG
HAPPY2BME
HAZEL THINKS HER FRIENDS ARE SWEET? SHE’LL LEARN. THEY’RE SWEET AS SNAIL BAIT. OR SWEET AS HORSE MEAT.
I TRIED TO WARN HER. I’M RIGHT UNDER HER NOSE AND SHE DOESN’T EVEN SEE ME. IT’S NOT MY FAULT IF SHE GETS HURT. AND SOMEONE IS GOING TO HURT…VERY SOON.