Why, I’m not exactly sure. That’s just always the way it is.
“Great. Thank you, Alyssa. You’re always so helpful.” I scan the table once more, curious when no one looks me in the eye. Dani just came off the volunteer round, so I’m not going to ask her to do it again. Courtney is currently too unstable, so I’ll wait until next month. Lex lifts her head, her gaze almost defiant when it meets mine, and I wonder what her deal is.
I decide to challenge her. “You up for volunteering this month, Alexis? We could really use your help,” I say, my voice sickeningly sweet.
Her bold red lips twist into a semi-smile. “Not particularly. I need to finish writing my senior essay. College applications and all that.”
“Um, I’m fairly certain we all have to finish writing our senior essays.” I glare at the remaining quiet juniors, and anger makes my blood hot. I have no time for this. “Time for you to step up, junior Larks. Someone needs to pipe up before I choose one of you to take the job. And I really hate doing that.” I pause. No response. “It’s a requirement, girls. You must volunteer. That’s the whole point of being a Lark. Remember?”
Maggie sighs and tilts her head to the side, her lank brown hair falling across her shoulder. I’m surprised she’s not volunteering, because she’s usually one of the first to speak up.
The put-out expression on her face is annoying. How did she get into the Larks again? Oh, that’s right. She’s a legacy member. Her sister was a Lark four years ago, when I was still in the eighth grade, so I never got a chance to work with her, though my sister did. I heard nothing but good things about Lysette Fawkes from Peyton.
Not so sure about her little sister, though.
“Fine, I’ll volunteer,” Maggie finally says with a slight frown. “Though don’t forget, I was the one who organized the sign making for Gretchen’s vigil last week.”
“Oh, that’s right.” I snap my fingers. “So…what are you saying? Would you like a medal?”
Maggie’s surprised expression is straight out of a cartoon. She’s all bug-eyed, gawping shock. “I just wanted to mention it—”
“When we feel it’s necessary to list our accomplishments, we do so. Otherwise, it just looks like you’re bragging. A bit of advice? It’s best if you keep your mouth shut and let us judge you by your actions.” I smile serenely, trying my damnedest to look presidential. I swear Courtney looks like she’s about to burst out laughing. “I do appreciate you taking the initiative and helping out with the signs, though. And thank you for volunteering at the hospital this month. The children will be ever so grateful.”
Maggie’s face is tomato red. “You’re welcome,” she mumbles.
She probably thinks I humiliated her on purpose, but I have to keep the juniors in line. I hate being so tough on them, but I’m the Larks president. I need to be extra tough.
“Anyone else have something they wish to discuss?” I ask pleasantly.
“I do,” Lex says, sitting up straight. “I think we need to seriously consider who to choose as Gretchen’s replacement.”
“Already?” I ask. “She’s barely been gone a week, Lex. I don’t know…”
“I think it’s a good idea,” Courtney adds. “The bylaws say we must maintain ten members at all times—five seniors and five juniors.”
I turn on her. “You read the bylaws?” No one reads the freaking bylaws. They’re boring. They date all the way back to the seventies, when people had to actually write them on a typewriter.
So primitive.
“Yeah, I did.” Court shrugs. “After Gretchen died, I figured we’d need to do something. So I checked up on the rules.”
“If we don’t find a replacement for Gretchen, we might have to disband,” Lex tells me.
How in the world does she know? Did Lex read the bylaws, too? What, are they ganging up on me? “Says who?”
“Says our rulebook,” Lex stresses. “I read the bylaws with Court. Come on, Penelope. Don’t be difficult. We need to nominate a potential new member.”
“Shouldn’t we declare special circumstances?” I can’t even begin to fathom who we might nominate. The choices among the senior girls are so slim.
“Maybe,” Dani says, finally piping up. “I mean, we’ve never dealt with a…murdered member before. I would definitely count this situation as special circumstances.”
“Then let’s look into it.”
When Lex starts to speak, I cut her off. “I’m serious. Finding another member is the last thing I want to do. There are so many other tasks we need to focus on.”
“Like what?” Court asks.
I glare at her. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to Courtney—or any of them. And I don’t appreciate how she’s calling me out in front of everyone. I thought she had my back.
“Let’s discuss potential new members at the next meeting,” Dani suggests, ever the peacemaker. “And if we can’t make a decision, then we should look at the next step.”
“What? Disband?” Lex says with a smirk.
“No!” Maggie practically shouts. She pounds her fist on the table so hard, it makes everyone jump in their seats. “We can’t disband! The Larks are too important to this school, to the entire community! We can’t quit just because Gretchen was murdered!”
I watch her, surprised by her outburst. She looks furious at the thought of the Larks breaking apart.
Alyssa reaches out and pats Maggie’s arm. “Calm down. Everything’s going to be fine,” she murmurs, but Maggie only glares at her before she slumps in her seat. Like that mini tantrum just took everything out of her.
“Thank you, Alyssa.” I smile at her and she smiles in return. I probably look like I’m playing favorites, but I can’t help it. She’s my pick for next year’s Larks president. “And that would never happen,” I reassure Maggie. More like I’m reassuring everyone. I make sure and look them all in the eye. “Just because one of our members is gone doesn’t mean we’re all going to quit. Gretchen wouldn’t have wanted us to do that.”
I don’t know if that’s true, but it sounds good.
“Speaking of murder. Have the police released any other details about what exactly happened to Gretchen?” Courtney asks.
The room goes silent at her question. Someone clears her throat. Dani fidgets in her chair.
I mean seriously—does Courtney want all the dirty details? How gross is that? The local paper ran an article right after the body was discovered and identified, but they didn’t mention how she was killed.
It’s like they’re keeping it a secret.
“I haven’t heard anything.” I glance around the table to find them all watching me with hallowed expressions. “Has anyone else been questioned by the detectives?”
Mostly shaking heads, except for—of course—Courtney.
“They came by my house on Sunday to talk to me again,” she says quietly, her gaze dropping to the table.
“Really?” Lex’s voice perks up. She’d probably secretly love to see Courtney go down for Gretchen’s murder. “All that smack talk about Gretchen finally bit you in the butt, huh?”
“More like the public scene she made at the vigil,” mumbles Jessica, one of the quieter junior members. The rest of the juniors giggle nervously until I send them a stern look that immediately shuts them up.
“None of that was the reason.” Courtney lifts her head and glares directly at Lex. “They found texts on Gretchen’s phone about me and…someone else. Ugly stuff, like she wanted to kick my ass or something stupid like that.”
“Really?” Dani breathes, her brown eyes wide with surprise.
“Yes, really,” Courtney mocks. “They wanted to know if Gretchen had threatened me in any way over the last few weeks.”
“Had she?” I ask. What does she mean, texts about her and someone else? Who’s the someone else? Why won’t she just say the name?
Courtney levels her gaze on me. “No.”
Huh. I don’t know if I believe her.
&n
bsp; “Then they asked to look at my phone,” she continues.
“Did you let them?” Lex sounds like she wants to start laughing.
“No.” Courtney’s gaze sweeps around the table, alighting on each of us. “Be careful. Because they’ll probably ask to look at all of your phones.”
Dani gasps. Lex laughs. The juniors remain quiet. But I’m still watching Courtney.
What exactly does she have to hide?
Chapter
Ten
Later that night, I’m sitting on my bed with my laptop, trying to work on my American Government project, when I get a text from a number I don’t recognize.
Unknown: Don’t trust her.
Frowning, I stare at the three words, then at the number. Even the area code is unrecognizable.
I have no idea who it is. I have no idea who I’m not supposed to trust, either. I know a lot of hers.
So I decide to call their bluff.
Me: Don’t trust who?
I set my phone down and try to concentrate on the article I’m reading for research, but it’s boring. And I’m suddenly anxious. Who’s sending me random texts late on a Thursday night? Who am I supposed to not trust?
My phone dings with a reply.
Unknown: All of them. They’re liars.
Me: Who is this?
Unknown: Consider me a friend.
I open my text thread with Dani and shoot off a message to her.
Me: Plz tell me you’re getting weird rando texts from strangers.
She replies quickly.
Dani: I’m not…r u?!?!?
I stare at the screen, wondering how much I should tell her. My phone chimes with another message and I check it.
It’s from my random stranger.
Unknown: Courtney isn’t being honest with you. She knows more than she’s saying.
My heart twists. It’s like this person is in my head and knows about my earlier suspicions. And it’s freaking me out.
Who the hell is this?
Me: What does she know more about?
Unknown: Gretchen.
Me: What do you mean?
Unknown: They’ve been fighting for a long time. G&C.
Yawn. That’s old news.
Unknown: And it got serious the week before Gretchen died.
Me: How do you know?
Unknown: Trust me. I know.
Me: So I’m not supposed to trust my friends I’ve known for years. But I should trust you, a random creepy stranger?
Unknown: I’m not a random creepy stranger. You know me.
I stare at the last words this person texted me. You know me.
Unease slips down my spine.
Me: How well?
Unknown: Well enough.
Me: Maybe you should tell me who you are.
Unknown: Maybe you should do a little more investigating and see just how much Courtney really hated Gretchen.
Me: Why don’t you tell the police yourself? Let them investigate.
Unknown: I don’t trust cops. They’re idiots.
Okay, this conversation is stupid. Though this person isn’t too far off the mark. I didn’t like the detectives, either.
Me: You have trust issues.
Unknown: You’re right. I do. But I think I can trust you.
Why in the world would he or she trust me?
I get another text from Dani, so I check it.
Dani: Why aren’t u responding to meeee? What’s going on?? Whooz texting uuuuu??? Tell me!
God, sometimes I really hate her bad text grammar.
Me: Turns out it wasn’t meant for me.
My finger hovers over the button. Should I lie to her? Keep this from her? According to my new anonymous text friend, I’m not supposed to trust anyone. But Dani is my closest friend. She’s my best friend. I pretty much tell her everything, and I know everything about her. I don’t like keeping secrets from her, even if she does blab them to other people sometimes and I end up getting mad.
Yes, if you haven’t guessed, this has totally happened before.
Giving in, I tap the screen and send the message. And get a fast reply.
Dani: Dang! I was hoping it was some mysterious guy who’s hot for you.
She’s always hoping I’ll hook up with some guy. It’s been her greatest wish ever since Robby and I split. She wants me to be with another football player, then she can date Brogan, and we can double date every weekend.
Sometimes it’s like my best friend lives her life in a romance novel.
My phone dings again, but it’s not with a message from Dani.
Unknown: Can I trust you, Pen?
Huh. No one calls me Pen. I don’t really allow it. Penny still sticks with some, considering it’s what everyone used to call me in elementary school.
I get another message.
Unknown: Can I tell you a secret?
Me: Depends on what it is. Some things I might not want to know…
Clutching my phone, I wait for the next message.
Unknown: Maybe it’s better if I tell you in person.
My mouth drops open. No freaking way.
Me: I’m not going to meet you or whatever. I don’t even know you. What if you’re the one who murdered Gretchen?
My mystery texter actually sends me a row of laughing emojis.
Unknown: I didn’t kill Gretchen, even though you might think I did.
Frowning, I stare at my phone’s screen. Why do I feel like I’ve had this conversation before?
Unknown: Meet me Saturday 9 am at Sweet Offerings. I’ll tell you more then.
…
Despite that nagging inner voice inside my head telling me I’m crazy to even contemplate meeting my mystery message sender, I show up at the Sweet Offerings Bakery and Coffee Shop at eight forty-five Saturday morning. Maybe I can spy on this person and figure out who it is before I actually meet with them. And then I’ll never meet with them.
Instead, I’ll go straight to the cops and rat him or her out.
I sit in my mom’s car in the parking lot across the street, watching Sweet Offerings’ front door. My mom couldn’t understand why I wanted to borrow her car when I have my own, until I made up some lie about being out of gas and how I really couldn’t stand the thought of a lecture because oh my God, I’m still in mourning over Gretchen and everything sends me right over the edge.
She bought it. Her expression had gone straight to sad and forgiving and she handed over the keys to her little black Mercedes like she was giving me a grand prize.
“Don’t park too close to other cars,” she told me before I left. Like that’s all she cared about.
Depressing as that thought is, it might be true.
I’m still tired from last night. We played an away game at another school almost two hours south, and we had to ride the bus both there and back. I didn’t collapse into bed until well after one in the morning, so getting up to meet someone I don’t even know at nine on a Saturday morning kind of sucks.
But I’m too curious not to go. So here I sit, wearing an old navy blue hoodie with the words “Bonita Cheer” in white across the chest. I have the hood on, my hair tucked beneath it, and I’m slouched low in the driver’s seat, never taking my eyes off the bakery’s door.
It’s mostly old people walking their dogs who enter and exit the shop in a constant stream. Three women sit out front at a tiny round metal table, huddled close with their hands curved around their paper coffee cups like they’re freezing. The sun is out, but it’s cold, though it’ll warm up later this afternoon. Another typical fall Saturday in Cape Bonita. Soon the tourists will come in. The day-trippers who want a little slice of seaside heaven before they have to go back to the grind. I love my hometown, I really do, but sometimes it feels fake. Like it’s there to make other people happy but not necessarily me.
Does that make sense? Probably not. But I’ve always sort of felt that way.
I check my phone for about the zillionth time but have
no messages. That’s because everyone I know is still sleeping, and I’m jealous. I’m afraid my mystery coffee date is not going to show up.
I was really hoping he or she would, too. Not because I wanted to run to the cops and rat them out, but because I’m just genuinely curious. Who is this person who has dirt on Gretchen and Courtney? Is it someone close to me? Someone I barely know? Just because they tell me that I know them doesn’t mean I know them, know them. It could be an acquaintance. It could be Brogan, since he likes to pull pranks, though doubtful. Or maybe it’s some random, quiet person I’ve gone to school with my entire life. There are more than a few of those I know—
Someone knocks on my window and I scream, my heart feeling like it could jump right out of my mouth. Glancing up, I see Courtney standing there, all bundled up with a to-go cup of coffee clutched in her hand.
I roll down the window, trying to calm my ragged breathing. “Court.” I take a shaky breath. “Hey. You, uh. You scared me.”
“What are you doing out here this early?” She’s wearing a black knit cap, her shiny blond hair curling around her face. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and even without a lick of makeup on, she’s stunning.
“I could ask you the same thing.” I smile at her.
“Had breakfast with my mom.” Her smile fades. “She’s worried about me, so she dragged me out of bed at seven thirty and demanded we come here.” Courtney looks around before returning her gaze to mine. “What are you doing? Are you meeting someone?”
“No, I’m contemplating if I should run in and grab a muffin or not.” Sweet Offerings is well-known for their amazing muffins.
It’s the only excuse I’ve got.
“You should totally grab one. The pumpkin spice is to die for. You only live once, right?” She smiles again and waves. “I gotta go. My mom’s waiting. Bye, Penelope!”
And then she’s gone.
I sag against the seat and take a deep breath. Is Courtney the one I was really supposed to meet? Or…what if she met with my mystery date first? What if this person is totally playing all of us?
Grabbing my phone and keys, I climb out of the car and slam the door, then jog across the street until I stop just in front of the coffee shop. I peer through the glass windows, looking for a familiar face among the crowd of people inside, or even a young face. Any face that stands out to me and tells me it’s the person I’m supposed to meet.
Pretty Dead Girls Page 6