Poor Little Dead Girls

by Lizzie Friend

  As Jeremy loaded their bags into the trunk of the cab, her eyes wandered the quad, taking it in one last time. It looked exactly like it had that first day Sadie’s dad had driven them through the doors, but now she could see the flaws. The stone buildings were heavy and staid, and dying brown vines clung to the walls like shriveled tendons. Even the lawn looked black in the dim light, the stone benches scattered across it like crumbling headstones. Across the quad, something caught her eye. Movement, and a flash of white.

  “Be right back, okay?”

  Jeremy threw the last bag into the trunk, then rubbed his hands together against the cold. “You sure? I can come with you if you want.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll be careful.”

  She crossed the lawn, watching the figure as it stood in front of Anna’s bench, arms full of deep red roses. In the early light, her blonde hair looked almost white.

  Sadie stood next to her.

  “You don’t have to explain anything, Sadie. You did what you had to do. I wish I could say the same thing.”

  “When did you know?”

  “I didn’t” — Thayer didn’t turn her head — “and I guess I did. Some part of me, anyway. He lied about where he was that night, and I covered for him, but I just didn’t want to see it. I guess I couldn’t.” Thayer took a deep breath. “He’s going to turn himself in.”

  They stood in silence for a moment, until finally Thayer leaned forward and laid the flowers on the bench. She faced Sadie, and for the first time since they had met, Sadie felt like she really saw her. She had no makeup on, and she wore her coat over an old gray shirt stamped with the Keating crest. Her hair was rumpled with sleep, and she had deep bags under her eyes. She really was beautiful.

  “How often do you do this? With the flowers.”

  “Every week.” Her eyes welled up with tears, and Sadie took a step forward to hug her, but Thayer backed away.

  “So you’re going home?” Thayer jerked her chin toward the car and wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

  Sadie nodded. “Jeremy’s coming, too.”

  “That’s good.” She held out a hand and Sadie shook it. “Good luck, Portland.”

  Before Sadie had taken more than a few steps away, she stopped and turned. “You know, maybe you should, too.”

  Thayer raised an eyebrow.

  “Go home, I mean. Just for a few days. Things might get pretty intense around here.”

  Sadie saw recognition flicker across her face, and she knew Finn must have told her about the book. She knew what was coming.

  As Sadie watched, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, and just like that, the old Thayer was back. For the first time though, Sadie could see that the mask she wore wasn’t cruelty, or snobbery, or any of the other things Sadie had thought about her since September. It was strength. Thayer was surviving, the only way she knew how.

  She smiled then, and Sadie could see the sadness in her eyes.

  “I can’t leave, honey,” — she spread her arms wide — “I’m already home.”

  Chapter 28

  Sadie got the letter a year later. It was a clean, white envelope with an orange and navy seal in the upper left corner. Her hands shook as she turned it over and slowly slid a finger underneath the flap. She pulled out the single sheet of paper and laid it flat on the table in front of her. She took a deep breath, exhaled, and flipped it over.

  “I got in!” she yelled, jumping up and running into the den, the paper held over her head like a standard. Her dad was sitting on the couch, a sandwich poised inches from his mouth.

  “I got into UVA!” she cried, thrusting the paper toward him and dancing a little jig in front of the TV.

  Her dad frowned. “A letter? What, Coach McHenry couldn’t pick up the phone?” He grinned and stood up to give her a hug. “I knew you would, sweetheart. Congratulations. And as long as she comes through with that promise of a full scholarship, you’ll actually be able to go.” He gave her a sad smile, and she dropped her arms to her sides.

  “She will, Dad. Coach Fitz told me it was a done deal as long as I got in.” She punched him in the shoulder. “And, this means I can accept that summer internship Charlie offered at the National, too. So quit worrying.”

  “I’m always worrying, Sadie. The idea of you going back there — it scares me. Hell, the idea of you being more than ten yards away at any given time scares me.”

  She let her head fall to the side. “I’m safe now, Dad. I promise.” She gave him another quick hug. When she had told him what had really happened to her mother, he had cried for three days. Sometimes it had seemed like he was grieving all over again, but at others what he was going through had seemed almost like relief. He finally had answers. He could finally let her go.

  She ran up the stairs to her room and flopped down on her bed. There was a stack of magazines on her bedside table, and the cover of the one on top showed Trix and Gwen sitting on the pavement outside a bar in London, both their heads thrown back with laughter. They had their legs splayed awkwardly in front of them like a pair of rag dolls, and there was a third girl sitting cross-legged on Gwen’s other side. They were holding hands. Every time she saw the photo, she couldn’t help but smile.

  After Keating was shut down during the investigation, they had both started attending a public school in England. Sadie loved thinking about how Ellen Bennett must have reacted to that news. The tabloids had been breathlessly reporting every second of Gwen’s coming out, and now her new relationship with one of her classmates. They all exchanged e-mails often, and Sadie and Jessica had a standing offer to visit both of the twins in London as soon as the FBI decided it was safe for them to travel without a security detail.

  Out of habit, Sadie glanced out the window and saw the usual black SUV parked on the street in front of their house. “Real subtle, guys,” she muttered.

  Ever since Charlie’s story ran, the FBI had been a constant presence. Her name had never been released, but until the Cranstons were found and brought to trial, they wanted to make sure Sadie and her dad were protected. By now, she barely even noticed they were there, but she hoped they would back off soon. Dragging two beefy guys in black suits to a bunch of college parties was going to be really embarrassing.

  The phone rang.

  “Did you get in?” Sadie said, as soon as she picked up the receiver.

  “Yes! You?”

  “Um, duh. Otherwise I so wouldn’t have answered.” Sadie laughed and she heard Jessica squeal with happiness.

  “Oh my god, I can’t wait. How’s everything in Portland?”

  “Pretty good. My dad’s still kinda shell-shocked, but at least we’ve started occasionally talking about other topics.”

  A pause. “Do the police have any leads on the Cranstons yet?”

  Sadie’s mood darkened. “Not yet. I promise I’ll tell you as soon as I hear anything, though. For a long time, they thought they were both hiding out in Europe or something, but the police there still can’t find them.” The police had found plenty of evidence to corroborate Sadie’s story, but without Teddy and Sumner, there wasn’t much they could do about it. The files and computers in the hospital basement had been removed long before the police got there, but the equipment was left, and it had been enough. They had even found Sadie’s DNA on the operating table. The closet with the metal canisters was empty, too. They told Sadie chances were good her eggs had been destroyed.

  “And Pamela?”

  “Nope. Still nothing.”

  The line went silent.

  After the story broke, Sumner and Teddy had both disappeared, and Sadie knew that wherever they were hiding, they would stay there for a very long time. They had left Finn behind, and he was on house arrest in Virginia. She couldn’t help but feel a little sorry for him. What he had done was awful, and he needed to pay the consequences, but he had lost his mom, too.

  She tried to make her voice light. “Enough about them, though — I’ll be ha
ppy if I never hear the name Cranston again.”

  She heard Jessica sigh. “God, me too. Hey, how’s Jeremy?”

  Sadie smiled into the phone. “Really, really good. He’s coming to visit this weekend, and then I’m flying down to San Diego for Christmas with his family.”

  “That’s so awesome, Sadie. Does he know where he’s going to be next year yet?”

  “No, but I am dying to know what he’s going to decide. He already has offers from Maryland and Virginia, though, so either way at least he’ll be close.”

  “Perfect,” Jessica said. “I just can’t wait for senior year to be over. My mom signed us up for weekly mother-daughter ballet classes. I need to get out of this house.”

  Sadie laughed. “Me too. It’ll be just like old times, except, you know … ” She trailed off. “Hey speaking of which, you know UVA was founded by Thomas Jefferson, right?”

  Jessica groaned. “Oh, god. Don’t remind me. I’d really rather not have anything else to do with that guy — ever.”

  Sadie snickered. “He wasn’t so bad. The whole Order thing really wasn’t his fault, you know? He just underestimated how terrible people can be. Not everyone can handle having that kind of power without abusing it.”

  “I guess.”

  Sadie flipped over so she was lying on her stomach. “So what do you think college will be like?”

  “Umm, probably kind of like boarding school was, but with coed dorms and frat guys with STDs?”

  Sadie laughed and rolled back onto her side. “You’re probably right. But I mean, you know what the real difference is, right? According to my sources, it’s the highlight of every good Keating grad’s college career … ”

  For a moment, Jessica didn’t answer. When she did she sounded horrified. “You’re joking, right?”

  Sadie laughed into the phone. “Of course, you skank. I wouldn’t touch Greek life with a ten-foot pole.”

  She heard Jessica exhale. “Thank god. I love you to death, Sadie — you know that — but if you ever join a sorority, I will seriously kill you.”

  About the Author

  Lizzie Friend is a Palo Alto native who now lives in Chicago with her husband and son. By day, she’s an analyst who writes about things that aren’t nearly as much fun as political conspiracies; dark, writhing underbellies; and other important stuff like the prom. Poor Little Dead Girls is her first novel.

  Acknowledgments

  I wish I could say this book came to be over a month-long retreat in the mountains, flowing from my fingertips while a fire crackled and a bottle of wine decanted. That’s how I always pictured the life of a writer: secluded, romantic, and a little drunk.

  But alas, Poor Little Dead Girls’ conception was clumsy and haphazard, written in snippets at coffee shops and kitchen tables, on trains and city buses. Without the help of friends, family, and colleagues, it may never have come to be at all.

  I would like to thank my agent, Lauren MacLeod, as well as her wonderful, unbelievably supportive community of authors. Thanks too, to Jacquelyn Mitchard and everyone at Merit Press and Adams Media for taking a chance and bringing this creepy little book to life.

  To my husband and family, thank you for supporting me, believing in me, putting up with me, and enabling my delusions of grandeur. And finally to my son, Lincoln, who when this was written was still just a few strands of very redheaded DNA: I can’t wait until you’re old enough to read it. You’re going to be so embarrassed.

  Copyright © 2014 by Lizzie Friend.

  All rights reserved.

  This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher; exceptions are made for brief excerpts used in published reviews.

  Published by Merit Press

  an imprint of F+W Media, Inc.

  10151 Carver Road, Suite 200

  Blue Ash, OH 45242. U.S.A.

  www.meritpressbooks.com

  ISBN 10: 1-4405-6395-0

  ISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6395-9

  eISBN 10: 1-4405-6396-9

  eISBN 13: 978-1-4405-6396-6

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Friend, Lizzie.

  Poor little dead girls / Lizzie Friend.

  pages cm

  Summary: Starting her junior year at an exclusive East Coast girls’ boarding school on a lacrosse scholarship, small-town Sadie uncovers a murder mystery after being inducted into a powerful secret society.

  ISBN 978-1-4405-6395-9 (hardcover) — ISBN 1-4405-6395-0 (hardcover) — ISBN 1-4405-6396-9 (ebook) — ISBN 978-1-4405-6396-6 (ebook)

  [1. Secret societies—Fiction. 2. Conspiracies—Fiction. 3. Boarding schools—Fiction. 4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Mystery and detective stories.] I. Title.

  PZ7.F91533Po 2013

  [Fic]—dc23

  2013031470

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, corporations, institutions, organizations, events, or locales in this novel are either the product of the author’s imagination or, if real, used fictitiously. The resemblance of any character to actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.

  Many of the designations used by manufacturers and sellers to distinguish their product are claimed as trademarks. Where those designations appear in this book and F+W Media was aware of a trademark claim, the designations have been printed with initial capital letters.

  Cover image © 123rf.com.