The Ugly Girls' Club: A Murder Mystery Thriller

by C. A. Wittman

  Cassandra collapsed on her waterbed, crying, practically hyperventilating.

  “I can’t stand her,” she said. “I can’t stand any of them.”

  Hunter hurried away into her bathroom and came back with a wet washcloth.

  “Lie back,” they ordered, “and take long, slow breaths.

  Cassandra gazed up at them with sorrowful eyes, and then did as she was told, waves of water undulating beneath her body. Hunter placed the washcloth over her eyes.

  “How does that feel?” They asked.

  Cassandra nodded mutely.

  Even with the door shut, Emma could hear Louise on the phone to one of their parents. She wasn’t sure which one.

  “We should all go home now. Give this family space,” Hunter said.

  “I’ll call my mom,” Cat said. Brenda was always the go-to.

  Seconds later, she had Brenda on the phone, explaining the situation, and paused to listen.

  “Okay,” Cat said and hung up.

  “What did she say?” Emma asked.

  “She’s on the other line with Louise. She said she’ll be here in ten minutes.”

  Brenda texted Cat when she arrived. She did not bother to come in, but waited in her Land Cruiser. It was only when Louise saw them all filing through the living room that she asked if Brenda was outside.

  “She’s in the middle of something and needs to hurry back home,” Cat said nervously.

  Louise’s face hardened and she strode to the door, flinging it open, and taking brisk strides to Brenda’s vehicle. Brenda rolled her window down.

  “Can I talk to you?” Louise asked through her teeth.

  Brenda’s eyes darted over to the rest of them as they began to get into the SUV.

  “I’m kind of in a jam right now,” Brenda said, the engine idling. “Can I call you later?”

  Louise looked as if she might implode. “I just want you to know that the neighbor was giving our kids alcohol.”

  “Oh. Yeah,” Brenda said, nodding like a bobblehead. “I’ll talk with Cat and the rest of them about that.”

  Louise crossed her arms, crackling with frustration. “It warrants a serious talk.”

  “Yeah,” Brenda agreed. “Absolutely. I—well, I’ve gotta go. See you at the graduation.”

  Brenda slowly backed her car up, leaving Louise in the driveway. If Louise could have shot bullets out of her eyes at Brenda, she might have, Emma thought as Brenda continued to back her vehicle onto the street.

  “What an unhappy woman,” Hunter muttered to themself.

  Brenda ran a hand over her hair.

  Emma knew Brenda was still in the doghouse with Cat and even if she weren’t, it wasn’t her parenting style to make a big deal over a little champagne.

  “So who’s going where?” She asked.

  “I’d like to go home if you wouldn’t mind dropping me off,” Hunter said.

  “Sure,” Brenda said. “You girls spending the night?”

  “I should go home,” Emma said. “I need my robe and stuff for graduation.”

  “Right.” Brenda gave her steering wheel a little pat. “Yeah. So I’ll just take everyone home.”

  Chapter 21

  Emma moved through the crowd of students and parents to reach her mom, who stood at the very outer perimeter of the crush of proud parents hugging, kissing, and taking pictures of their kids.

  Jill was not a fan of crowds. In fact, she had a phobia of being around too many people, a phobia that she’d gotten somewhat under control over the years. She could now manage being part of a crowded event without having a panic attack, although the anxiety never quite left her.

  Emma kept her eyes on her mom, who held her hands clasped in front of her torso, a stiff, fake smile on her lips. Every time someone passed Jill and said hello, she’d nod robotically and the smile would grow a little bigger, the rest of her face out of sync with her mouth.

  “Congratulations,” Jill said once Emma reached her.

  “Thank you,” Emma beamed, and they leaned toward each other for a brief hug.

  “Where are the twins?”

  “Myla is watching them. The crowd would have overwhelmed them. It was a nice ceremony, though,” Jill added, eyes darting around the gymnasium decorated with balloons and streamers for the occasion.

  A girl squeezed past them, shrieking out her friend’s name, and Jill winced.

  “Well,” she said. “You look beautiful. I believe the diet regimen is working for you, Emma. I hope you can celebrate your new healthy lifestyle, instead of the other, uh… trend.”

  “It’s okay, Mom. I’m happy with how I look.” Emma placed a hand on Jill’s arm. Her mom still didn’t get it, Emma thought, but she was glad she had taken her advice because she did feel healthier and pleased with how she looked. She’d lost ten of the twenty pounds the doctor had suggested she lose, but her recent growth spurt had redistributed the remaining extra weight. The result was drastic. In the period of four weeks, she’d grown to look like a completely different girl. Cat, Nisha, and Cassandra had begun making remarks about her growth spurt, and she’d often catch one of them staring at her. A few times, Cassandra had asked her in private for diet advice. Emma had gotten up extra early that morning to blow her hair out for the event, and now it hung glossy and long down her back. The wedge heels she’d bought to go along with her new dress accentuated the length of her newly slim legs. She’d stood in front of the mirror earlier that morning, gazing at her figure in the white summer dress with the slim straps and lacy midriff cutout. She’d bought it at a boutique on Montana Avenue at the suggestion of the saleswoman.

  “I won’t fit in that,” Emma had said.

  The saleswoman had given her a quizzical smile. “I think it’s just your size.”

  In the dressing room, Emma had blinked at her reflection with astonishment. It was as if the dress were made for her.

  Lately, she’d begun to get friendly looks and smiles from boys and men. Several days ago, she’d glimpsed a pretty girl in a store window and had turned to take a second look only to realize, startled, that she was looking at herself. In the mornings when she brushed her teeth, she stared at her new slimmer face in the mirror. A face that was almost unrecognizable from even three weeks ago.

  “Where’s Dad?” Emma asked.

  When she’d searched out her parents in the audience, her eyes had lit on Jill, but she hadn’t been able to locate Oliver throughout the ceremony.

  Jill frowned. “I’m not sure he came.”

  A dart of disappointment and worry shot through Emma. She’d thought her father would show up for something as important as graduation. It wasn’t just that, though. He was supposed to pick her and her friends up to take them to his place, where they planned to swim and get ready for Blue’s party. As far as the other parents knew, it was just the five of them having a sleepover at Emma’s dad’s in Malibu.

  A tap on her shoulder had her spinning around. It was Cat. She grabbed Emma up in a big hug.

  “We’re done with this place!” She yelled. “Hi, Jill.”

  Jill blinked, maintaining her out-of-sync smile.

  In Emma’s ear, Cat asked, “Where’s Douche?”

  Emma shrugged, not quite able to look Cat in the face, her disappointment crushing.

  “Shall we step outside for pictures?” Jill suggested, her forehead moist with perspiration.

  “Yes. Great idea,” Emma said, sweeping the gym one more time for her dad, a sick feeling settling in her belly. He hadn’t come. He was going to leave her hanging. Again.

  Outside, families milled around, taking pictures and videos of their graduates while friends clung together, arm in arm for group pictures.

  Across the lawn, Emma saw Cassandra having her picture taken by her mom. She looked miserable. Emma gave her a small wave, and Cassandra waved back. She pointed out Emma and Cat to Louise and began walking in their direction. By the time Cassandra made it over with her mom and sister, Nisha and Hun
ter had joined them with their families. Amongst a flurry of introductions, congratulations, and jubilant hugging, Emma found herself caught up in the embrace of one of Hunter’s moms, Joanne.

  “It’s nice to finally meet all of you,” she said. A halo of dark curls framed her soft features, her friendly hazel eyes lit up in a way that reminded Emma of Hunter. Hunter’s other mom, Henry, stood just behind Joanne. She had short, spiky black hair and dark, penetrating eyes, a hint of an upward curvature to her lips.

  “That was such a lovely commemorative speech Posie made about Wren and Poppy,” Joanne said. Her eyes misted at the thought and her hand instinctively grasped Hunter’s.

  Jill’s smile flickered, and Emma could tell that the sudden switch of topics had taken her mom off guard. Jill struggled with what to do or how to be when others became emotional around her, especially when a person showed signs of grief. She despised touching and hugging people she didn’t know, and Emma knew she grappled with the right things to say in a social situation when a person expressed sadness.

  Emma linked her arm through her mom’s to speak for the both of them. “Yes. We thought it was really touching,” she said.

  Hunter bowed their head and Emma saw them squeeze Joanne’s hand reassuringly.

  “Those poor girls,” Nisha’s mom Deja said with a shake of her head. She wore a little black dress, hair scraped back into a tight bun. “How you doin’, Em? I haven’t seen you in a minute. Girl, you’re looking sharp. That dress is out cold. Grew, too. All y’all done grew,” she added with a sweep of her hand, flashing long, bright red nails.

  “Are you Nisha’s sister?” Louise asked Deja.

  Deja got that a lot because she had Nisha at fifteen and wasn’t even thirty yet.

  “No, this is my mom,” Nisha said. “She looks young because she is young.”

  Deja gave Nisha a look, then rolled her eyes. “Excuse me. I can speak for myself.”

  Nisha ignored her mom. “I’ve got two words for that dress,” she said to Emma. “Flower girl. I’m done.”

  Deja drew in her neck. “Nisha.”

  Louise stared at the two of them, and, upon noticing, Deja frowned back at her.

  “I don’t think we’ve met,” Louise said. “I’m Cassandra’s mom, Louise. Nisha’s been over quite a bit.”

  “Okay,” Deja said, dark eyes snapping as she sized her up and turned her back to talk to Cat, Brenda, and Andy.

  From behind Louise, Sam grinned at the snub, then craned her neck to look at something across the crowded field. Emma followed her gaze. She was watching Posie and her family. Donovan stood next to his sister. He wore a fitted long sleeve black dress shirt with navy blue tailored dress pants. Donovan gazed back toward them. Sam raised her hand and waved. He didn’t return the gesture. His eyes were fixated past her. Sam turned around to see what he was looking at and her eyes locked with Emma’s. In that instant, Emma realized Donovan was checking her out and she blushed deeply. A flit of anger tightened Sam’s features before she strode off in his direction.

  “I’m ready to take pictures now,” Jill announced, drawing Emma’s attention back to her group.

  Shit, Emma thought. She’d forgotten about Jill a little too long. Her mother had that look she got just before she locked herself in the Reset Room. Her lips were subtly moving, and Emma knew she was reciting the periodic table of elements to calm herself.

  “Pictures!” Emma echoed Jill, catching everyone’s attention.

  The five of them—Emma, Cat, Nisha, Cassandra, and Hunter—lined up, linking arms. Soon all the parents had their phones out, snapping pictures and filming videos.

  Emma tried to feel excited and happy, but her father not showing meant that it wasn’t just her he was disappointing, but all of her friends. Now that she’d decided the party could be fun, she’d been looking forward to it. They all had. At six, Ezra was supposed to bring the food they’d made yesterday.

  Emma sighed and gazed at her mom’s phone, flicking through the pictures Jill had taken.

  Someone’s arms encircled her waist.

  “Congratulations, darling,” her father said in her ear.

  She turned around, equally relieved and irritated. Oliver beamed a smile at her.

  “Where’ve you been?” Emma snapped.

  His forehead crumpled into apologetic folds of concern. His sincere look.

  “I’m sorry. I ran into a bit of a kerfuffle.” He swept a hand over his full head of grey hair. “I was searching for you, love, but I have to say, I didn’t recognize you in that dress. You’ve really slimmed down. You look fantastic, Emma.”

  Emma felt a blush coming on as Hunter’s moms, who stood nearby, gazed curiously at Oliver.

  “This is my dad, Oliver,” Emma said to them.

  “She does look good,” Jill said to him. “It’s the new diet I’ve composed for Emma. More whole foods, less calorically dense junk food, and regular intermittent fasting. In addition, Emma has grown, adding to her overall new svelte figure.”

  Louise took a step toward them, interest and curiosity sweeping over her features. Deja raised a brow, and Emma, embarrassed, thought Jill was done, but she continued talking. Oliver had inadvertently hit on a subject that interested Jill.

  “It turns out she was following a new trend teenage girls are into these days: getting fat and then throwing celebrations. A dangerously unhealthy sport.”

  Jill’s comment rendered everyone silent, and Emma wished she could disappear—just vanish. Cat’s dad, Andy, stroked his chin and blinked at Jill from behind his glasses. He was clearly baffled, having no idea what she was alluding to.

  “Well, anyway, you look absolutely lovely, Emma,” Oliver said, trying to save the moment, smoothing his eyebrow with an index finger.

  “Excuse me,” Hunter’s mom Henry spoke up. “What is this new trend you’re talking about?”

  Jill licked her lips. She had that glint in her eye that she got when she was about to go off on a tangent.

  “Apparently, Emma informed me that bigger women and girls are being celebrated for their size. A fallacy, in my opinion.”

  Louise nodded, as if in agreement.

  “There are serious health consequences to carrying around too much weight. For every year one is ten percent or more over their healthy body weight, morbidity risks increase.”

  “I think what Emma meant,” Henry interjected, “Is that, for decades, larger women have been made to feel ashamed of their size. Society, spurred on by marketing, mostly from the fashion industry, exerts quite a bit of pressure on women to conform to beauty standards that are extremely limiting and unrealistic for the average woman. Right now, we are having a moment where women are finally feeling okay, comfortable in their own skin, no matter what their size.”

  “Word up,” Deja said.

  Jill frowned. “No matter what their size?” She echoed.

  “No matter what their size,” Henry repeated, her dark eyes glowing with intensity.

  “Do you know that when a woman’s body mass index goes north of twenty-five percent, she is at risk for obtaining chronic health diseases, many of which are preventable even if you have a genetic predisposition toward certain diseases? Eating a healthy diet and keeping your weight down is key to living a longer, healthier life. So I don’t think getting fat is something to celebrate or make light of. Emma was very overweight. And, chronic health problems aside, her physical appearance was suffering.”

  “Oh, Ms. J,” Nisha mumbled to herself, looking mortified for Emma. Deja’s hand floated up to her mouth, her eyes wide.

  “You did not just say that.” Henry said, stunned.

  “Said? Said what?” Jill asked.

  It had been a long time since Emma’s mom had embarrassed her so completely. Brenda pulled agitatedly at her upper lip, not daring to look in Cat’s direction.

  Hunter tugged at Henry’s arm just as she opened her mouth to say something. They gave her a look and whatever retort she was about to
give died on her lips.

  Oliver glanced down at his Panerai watch with a grimace.

  “Brilliant. Astute as ever, Jill,” he said dryly, forcing a smile. “Shall we head off?” He suggested to Emma.

  “I need to grab my stuff from the car,” Hunter said.

  “Me, too,” Nisha said.

  “Me three,” Cat added.

  Cassandra said nothing, her eyes cast to the ground.

  “Are you coming, Cas?” Emma asked.

  Cassandra glanced at her mom.

  Louise looked at Oliver, sizing him up. “They’re having a sleepover at your house?” She asked.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “And it’s just a sleepover?”

  Oliver gave a slow blink. “Yes,” he lied.

  “What do you mean, ‘it’s just a sleepover?’” Deja asked her.

  “Last night, I came home and found the girls and, um, Hunter,” she looked at Hunter uncertainly, “at the neighbor’s, drinking champagne.”

  “What neighbor?” Deja’s eyes snapped at Nisha.

  “Gumption Road,” Nisha said. “She hired someone to come over and show us how to make Chinese food for tonight when we go to Emma’s dad’s house. Then when she found out it was Cassandra’s birthday, she had her housekeeper go out and get a cake, and she let us have a little champagne to celebrate.”

  Deja’s features softened. “Well, she should have asked about the champagne, but that was nice of her.”

  “I thought it was irresponsible,” Louise said, her face pinched.

  “You know how it is with older people. Sometimes they on their own program. But it sounds like it was harmless to me,” Deja said.

  “We sometimes let Hunter have a little wine with us at dinner,” Joanne said. “But when it comes to others’ kids, it’s important to ask, so I understand why you were upset.”

  The consensus was that Louise was overreacting and her shoulders slumped.

  “The legal drinking age is twenty-one,” Jill spoke up, siding with Louise. “And these kids are, on average, seven years away from twenty-one.”