Pretty Little Devils

by Nancy Holder

  As chance would have it, Megan, Carolyn, and Sylvia all had sitting jobs immediately after school. Everyone air-kissed in the parking lot, promising to be extra careful.

  Hazel and Ellen walked together toward their cars. Ellen sifted through her bag, looking for her keys. She swore, then rummaged some more. She came up empty and stopped dead in her tracks

  “What is it?” Hazel asked.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just—I am so entirely freaked,” Ellen confessed. “You know what I realized?” Ellen looked at Hazel with wide eyes. “If Breona is dead, that means she wasn’t the one leaving all those messages all weekend.”

  “You’re right. So who’s pranking us?”

  “Hazel, Breona has been murdered and we’ve been getting tons of threatening messages. I don’t think this is just a prank.”

  “We don’t know if Breona was murdered,” Hazel said more calmly than she would have thought. “All we know is that she died.”

  “But Lakshmi said—”

  “Lakshmi wants to get status by telling us things.” Hazel cut Ellen off.

  “You have a point.” Ellen picked at her cuticle again. It was bloody and raw. “Um, you want to hang out together? I don’t really want to be alone, you know?”

  “Yeah.” Hazel put an arm around her friend. “I know.”

  Ellen hugged her. Then her body went rigid. “Oh God, Hazel. Look.”

  Hazel turned and followed Ellen’s gaze.

  A black-and-white San Diego Police Department squad car was parked just outside the entrance gates, its red lights swirling.

  Mr. Clancy was standing off to the side with his arms crossed. An officer was beside him, talking to a student.

  Hazel looked closer. Dark curly hair, the letterman’s jacket—it was Matty!

  A second officer got out of the driver’s seat. He told Matty to get in the car.

  Matty shook his head. He looked red-faced and very angry.

  “It’s not my problem!” she heard him yell. The officer grabbed Matty by the arm and stuffed him into the back of the police car.

  “Why are they taking him?” Ellen asked. “Hazel, why would the police want to talk to Matty?”

  Ellen’s father wasn’t due home until after seven, so they went to her house. Hazel called her mother and said she would be studying late.

  Ellen turned on the gas logs in the fireplace, and they sat for a long time—sipping cocoa, not talking much, not studying at all.

  They turned on the news. Breona’s death was at the top of the local broadcast.

  “Police are investigating the grisly death of Brookhaven High School’s beloved head cheerleader, Breona Angelina Wu,” the news anchor announced.

  Hazel realized that Lakshmi’s report had been one hundred percent accurate. Someone had killed Breona in brutal fashion.

  And the police had taken Matty away for questioning…

  “Matty didn’t do it. He couldn’t. He was with you,” Ellen said, reading Hazel’s thoughts.

  “He wasn’t with me all night,” Hazel said. “Maybe until two-thirty.”

  “Haze, you know him,” Ellen insisted. “He’s just not that kind of guy.”

  Then why did the police arrest him? Hazel wondered.

  She buried her face in her hands.

  “When he freaked out on the field, I thought Sylvia was overreacting.” Hazel took a shaky breath. “But maybe she was right. Maybe he has problems.”

  “Stay calm,” Ellen said, giving Hazel a reassuring pat on the back. “Brandon told me their fight was totally not a big deal.”

  “Brandon told you?” Hazel looked up. “You guys have been talking?”

  Ellen’s eyes went wide for a moment. “Don’t tell Sylvia!” she squeaked.

  Hazel rolled her eyes. “I think she has bigger things to obsess about right now. So, you know that she was just being manipulative, right? Trying to break you guys up?”

  “Of course.” Ellen shook her head. “But what else is new?”

  “Wait. I don’t understand. If you know about it, why do you guys put up with it?” Hazel asked.

  Ellen picked up her mug. “The thing is, Sylvia has helped all of us at one time or another. We owe her. And besides…” She took a sip of her cocoa. “What would any of us be without the group? The PLDs as a whole are greater than the sum of its parts.”

  Hazel could barely believe what she was hearing. It was clear that Sylvia had them all under her thumb.

  Was she as trapped as the rest?

  “Listen, Ellen,” Hazel said. “There’s something else you should know.”

  Ellen cocked her head innocently. “What?” she asked.

  “Sylvia and Brandon—they were hooking up for a while.”

  Hazel watched Ellen’s expression. For a moment it looked like she was about to crumble.

  “I hate to say it, but I’m not surprised,” Ellen whispered.

  “Really?” Hazel asked.

  Ellen shook her head. “Brandon has always been kind of weird around Sylvia. And the truth is, she does this kind of shit all the time.” She paused. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less.”

  Hazel put a comforting hand on Ellen’s shoulder. “I don’t think you have to worry about it now. Brandon put an end to it. He really likes you, El.”

  “Really?” Ellen gazed up, hopeful.

  “Absolutely,” Hazel reassured her.

  “It’s just—it’s weird that he never mentioned anything about it. Like he wanted to keep it a secret or something.”

  “He probably just didn’t want to hurt you,” Hazel said quickly.

  Ellen gazed into the distance, thinking. She frowned. Seconds ticked by in silence. “It’s okay,” she finally decided. “I know where his heart really is.”

  Hazel smiled. “You know he—” She was interrupted by the ring of her cell phone. She rummaged through her purse, pressed talk, and put it to her ear.

  “Haze,” Sylvia said. “I heard.”

  “Heard what?” Hazel asked.

  “About Matty. The police. A bunch of kids saw it happen.” Hazel heard typing in the background. “There’s something you should to read,” Sylvia continued. “It’s in the student files. I’m e-mailing it to you now.”

  “I’m out,” Hazel said, throwing Ellen a glance.

  “Well, you need to get home,” Sylvia said. “You need to see this. Now.”

  “But—”

  “Look, just do it,” Sylvia said curtly. “It’s important.”

  “What did she want?” Ellen asked once Hazel had hung up the phone.

  Sylvia’s words echoed in her head. Real friends tell each other everything. She wondered what Sylvia could have found out about Matty.

  “She left me an e-mail,” Hazel said. “I—I should go home anyway. My parents will be wondering.”

  Ellen shrugged, like she was a little hurt, but she didn’t press. Hazel grabbed her keys.

  Hazel entered her house and let the front door slam.

  “Hi, honey,” her mother called from the kitchen. “We’re having that chicken you like so much.”

  “Great,” she said flatly, heading straight for the stairs. “I have homework.”

  “Okay. I’ll call you when it’s ready,” her mother replied cheerfully.

  She must not have heard about Breona yet, Hazel thought. She wouldn’t be so calm otherwise.

  She trudged up the stairs and down the hall. Corey was in his room, but she didn’t say hello. All she wanted to do was slip under the covers and try to forget everything.

  After changing out of her wet clothes and throwing on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, Hazel sat down at her computer. She powered it up and logged on to her e-mail.

  From: PLDSLY@hotmail.com

  To: PURPLEHAZE@hotmail.com

  Subject: I THINK YOU NEED TO READ THIS

  Hazel took a breath and clicked on the subject line.

  Hazel, this is from the school files. It’s about Matty. I know this will
be painful for you, but I figured you should know before it’s too late. I had a bad feeling about him and there’s no denying it now—it’s all in the files. Call me later, mon petite, and we’ll talk about everything.

  xo, Sylvia

  Hazel braced herself and scrolled down. Part of Matty’s file had been pasted in the e-mail.

  VARDEMAN, MATTHEW

  “…Matthew violated the temporary restraining order taken out by his girlfriend’s parents prior to leaving for Brookhaven…. Matthew is prone to violent outbursts and physical aggression…serious anger-management issues…. We recommend continued counseling upon arrival in Brookhaven…as he will encounter additional stress with this transition, outbursts can be confidently predicted….

  Hazel read it again.

  …violent outbursts and physical aggression…serious anger-management issues…

  Hazel remembered Matty’s explosion on the football field. His anger on the night of the dance. She shuddered. She’d been alone with him in the car after that. How could she have let herself trust him?

  “Hazel…Hazel, did you hear me?” Her mother was calling her.

  “What, Mom?” she yelled back, trying to keep her voice from cracking.

  There were heavy footsteps on the stairs.

  “I said, you have company,” her mother hollered.

  Hazel shot bolt upright as her bedroom door slowly swung open.

  Matty. He was here.

  He was dressed in black, his hair dripping from the rain. His chest was heaving. Hazel saw a wild, desperate look in his eye.

  …prone to violent outbursts…

  Matty came toward her. She stood up to cover the e-mail on-screen, then clicked off the monitor.

  She turned to face him, her shoulders tensed. “What do you want?”

  “Just hear me out.” He held his hands out in front of him but continued into the room. “It was no big deal. They asked me some questions and let me go. They didn’t have any proof.” He smiled wryly. “So they had to release me.”

  Hazel stared at him. Mute.

  “I saw you in the parking lot as the police car was pulling away,” he explained. “I know it looked bad. But they let me go, Hazel. I had nothing to do with it.”

  He came closer, reaching his arms out to touch her. Hazel stepped to the side, slowly backing away.

  “I was going to call. But I had to get to you. I was freaking out.” He took another step toward her. “I found out how Breona died.”

  She took a breath and stepped back again; she was nearly against the wall.

  …restraining order…

  “Someone stabbed her,” Matty said, his dark eyes boring into her. “Hundreds of times.”

  “You. Need. To. Go.” Hazel forced the words from her frozen chest. “Now.”

  Matty scowled. “What? Why? You think I did it? Are you crazy?” he demanded, growing louder.

  “Get out of here,” she rasped. “Please.”

  He gave her a long, hard look, then turned and stomped back down the stairs. She heard the front door open, then slam shut.

  Hazel sank onto the bed, exhaling. It was all so confusing. She knew Sylvia was a manipulator, but it was all right there in Matty’s file—and in the angry expression she’d seen on his face. What was happening? Matty couldn’t have killed Breona—could he?

  PERSONAL BLOG

  HAPPY2BME

  ALL SENSE OF TRUST HAS BEEN COMPLETELY TRASHED. I’M SICK OF BEING TREATED LIKE A DOG. HAZEL IS PLAYING WITH FIRE. SECRETS AND LIES—SOON THEY’LL ALL SEE WHERE IT GETS THEM. THEY’LL ALL PAY.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  There were officers all over Brookhaven High. Some wore khaki San Diego Police Department uniforms. Others wore street clothes. Those were the detectives—or so Hazel assumed. Her life had become a crime-scene television show—only there was no sound track, and no one seemed to know who’d done it.

  Walking down the hall, she scanned the crowd for Matty.

  She pushed her way through the crush. Everyone seemed to be swept up in a swirl of tension—all tight, scared faces, hunched shoulders. Some people were talking too loudly; others were silent. School as they had known it was over forever.

  Hazel paused a moment in front of her locker, remembering the day she caught Matty taping his green carnation to her door.

  She thought of his smile…how flustered he had been. Was that the face of a brutal killer?

  Then she thought of Breona’s freak-out.

  Breona, who was gone.

  Hazel’s cell phone went off, ripping her out of her heavy thoughts. She checked the ID—Sylvia.

  “Yes?” Hazel answered.

  “Did you do this?” There was a brief silence, then…

  “Bad babysitter.” It was a metallic voice, just like the chip on Charlie Pollins’s door.

  “No!” Hazel cried. “What is it? Where is it?”

  “In my locker. It goes off when I open the door.”

  “Oh my God.” Hazel stared at her locker. She hesitated for a moment, then she worked the combination and pulled.

  “Bad babysitter!”

  It was a harsh, rough voice. The same one from the prank calls? Hazel backed away.

  “This isn’t your prank, Hazel?” Sylvia demanded.

  “No!” Hazel cried, her eyes still glued to the open door.

  “Then who did it?” Sylvia demanded.

  “Why are you asking me?” Hazel asked.

  “Because Charlie Pollins does this kind of thing. With those chips,” Sylvia said impatiently. “It had to be one of us. Who else would have access to Charlie?”

  Hazel didn’t have to think hard. Only one other person she could think of had access to Charlie. The same person who had made his missing-pet posters. The same person who played video games with him till late at night.

  Matty Vardeman.

  Everyone bought chicken noodle soup for lunch, as if solid food were too much to deal with. It was salty, and Hazel couldn’t shake the image of huge vats of chicken feet simmering away in a factory someplace. She put down her spoon and sipped a bottle of water.

  Sylvia looked around their table. “The voice chips. Give it up. Who did it?”

  Everyone stared at everyone else.

  A ripple went through the cafeteria as the doors by the diversity mural opened. Three police officers, Detective Fullerton, and Clancy strode in.

  “It had to be one of us, right? Who else has our locker combinations?” Megan whispered.

  Hazel watched as the authorities slowly made their way through the lunchroom.

  “Those wouldn’t be hard to get,” Sylvia answered without turning her head. “There’s a list, right? Of all the combinations? People like Mrs. Sharma have access to them. She probably gave the list to Lakshmi—who sold our combinations to the highest bidder.”

  “Maybe Lakshmi did it herself,” Megan ventured.

  “No, she’s not that smart,” Sylvia said contemptuously. “Whoever did this used Charlie’s voice chips. So if it wasn’t one of us, it was someone close to us.” Sylvia’s voice dropped to a low growl. “Attending our parties…pretending to be our friend.”

  Hazel remained silent.

  The PLDs turned as one of the detectives strolled by their table.

  “They’re going to ask us about the drugs in Breona’s locker,” Ellen whispered, her voice high and nervous.

  “Why? No one asked us about the drugs before,” Sylvia pointed out.

  “They’re going to talk to us eventually,” Carolyn agreed. “Someone is going to tell them how much we hated her.”

  “So?” Sylvia said. “We didn’t kill her.”

  “We talked about payback,” Ellen ventured.

  “To each other, hello?” Sylvia sounded extremely irritated, as if she couldn’t believe how dense Ellen was. “We didn’t kill her, Ellen.”

  “True.” Ellen exhaled slowly. “So why do we all feel so guilty?”

  Sylvia turned a cold eye on her. “W
e don’t.” She looked at the others. “Do we?”

  Hazel spoke up. “Whoever killed her was a total psychopath.”

  “A psychopath. Like someone who had a restraining order taken out on them?” Sylvia asked, giving her a look.

  Hazel’s stomach clenched. Beads of sweat collected on her forehead.

  “We should tell them about the voices in our lockers,” Ellen said, eyeing the police officers. “Show them.”

  Everyone looked at each other, then at the cops.

  “Okay, okay, I confess,” Carolyn said, half raising her hand. “I did it.”

  Everyone stared at her in total disbelief.

  She grimaced at her soup and pushed it away. “The voices in the locker. I planned it forever ago, and Charlie called me and told me they were done. I already paid him, so…” She shrugged.

  “That…is in amazingly poor taste,” Sylvia said icily.

  “Dude, you have totally got balls,” Megan said. “I swear, that is one of the greats!”

  “You’re nuts,” Ellen said. “It was so inappropriate!”

  “That’s what makes it so fabulous,” Megan argued. “It’s so wrong!”

  Sylvia sighed like a mother of wayward children. “You never cease to amaze me, mes petites.”

  “Hey, we’re not the pretty little angels,” Megan said. She turned to Carolyn. “So, the scary phone messages, the e-mails? That was you too?”

  “No.” Carolyn’s smile faded. “I just did the voice chips.”

  “Well, it’s time to confess,” Sylvia told the group. “The game is over. Prank caller, come out, come out, whoever you are!”

  There was dead silence.

  The detectives retreated from the cafeteria, done with their intimidation.

  The lunch bell rang, and the PLDs pushed back their chairs.

  As they walked into the quad, Josh appeared out of the crowd. He gave Sylvia a quick kiss. Hazel noticed rings under his eyes.

  “Hey,” he said. “I just left Kim’s office. The police wanted to talk to me, but my parents said no, not without them and a lawyer present.”

  “Good,” Sylvia told him, reaching up and tousling his hair. “Smart.”

  He frowned. “But doesn’t that make me look guilty?”