Get Dirty

by Gretchen McNeil

  She walked to the front of the room, studiously avoiding Mika’s eyes. “We thought this was over,” she began, facing the group. “Bree Deringer turned herself in and we hoped this was all going to go away.”

  Several heads nodded in agreement. Okay, good start!

  “An anonymous threat has reemerged from the shadows, too cowardly to show its face. And so far no one’s been able to shine a light on it.”

  “Exactly,” Kyle said.

  “Not the police. Not the ’Maine Men. Not the archdiocese.”

  Father Uberti shifted his feet. “No need to bring the archdiocese into this.”

  But Kitty didn’t pause. She noticed that her audience was sitting forward in their chairs, their eyes wide, lips parted. Everyone but Mika, whose facial expression was slowly morphing from confusion to anger.

  But the ’Maine Men were invested in her words, waiting for the payoff. She just had to bring it home.

  “I believe,” she said, leaning toward them in a conspiratorial pose, “that Bree Deringer was the sole perpetrator of DGM.”

  The room gasped.

  “I hardly think that’s possible,” Father Uberti said nervously. He edged closer to her, as if trying to repossess the spotlight. “In light of what’s happened today.”

  “I believe,” Kitty continued, “we’re dealing with copycats—students who don’t have the same experience as the original DGM. And do you know what that means?”

  “It means they’re sloppy!” Kyle cried out.

  Kitty stared at him, blinking. He was smarter than she had given him credit for. “We need to look for their mistakes,” she said. “Because I guarantee they made some. Where did they find these videos? Where did they upload them? How did they get a Bishop DuMaine email address? There’s got to be some evidence of who’s behind DGM. We just have to find it.”

  “And then,” Tyler added, “we can catch them.” Ever the scholar.

  “So,” Kitty said, planting her hands on the desk and leaning forward. “Go find me a copycat, will you?”

  The room broke into cheers. ’Maine Men members new and old leaped to their feet, high fiving and chest bumping one another in a disturbing display of machismo. Kitty was partly terrified by what she’d managed to accomplish. She’d steered the ’Maine Men in a specific direction, one she hoped would lead to a murderer.

  Now she just had to hope none of these misguided idiots became his next victim.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  TWENTY-TWO

  OLIVIA HADN’T SEEN AMBER ALL DAY. SHE ASSUMED AMBER had left, either to check on Rex or, more likely, go home to avoid the gossip. But as Olivia walked out onto the quad for lunch, she saw her old friend perched on top of their usual table, one leg crossed over the other with the hem of her barely school-sanctioned pencil skirt inching dangerously up her thighs, holding court in front of a group of curious onlookers.

  Olivia smiled to herself. She should have known that Amber wouldn’t miss a chance to play the victim in front of the entire school.

  Jezebel and Peanut sat on either side of her, and an entire audience gathered around as she monologued.

  “I knew,” she said, then thrust her hands before her, palms down. “I could feel it the moment I walked onto campus this morning. Every inch of my body screamed out to me that something awful was going to happen.”

  “Hey,” Olivia said, sliding onto the bench next to Peanut. “How’s the show?”

  “Tired material,” Jezebel said, unwrapping a hoagie. “I feel like I’ve heard it before.”

  Amber shot her a glance but didn’t drop character. “When I opened my email and saw that link I knew it would change my life forever.”

  Jezebel rolled her eyes and Olivia had to pin her lips together to keep from smiling.

  Amber uncrossed her legs and let them swing casually off the side of the table. “My father is going to have it examined by video experts,” she said. “I’m sure it was doctored.”

  “Have you talked to Rex?” Kyle asked. He and Tyler stood together, arms folded in a matching stance.

  “Is he okay?” Tyler asked.

  “Did he ask for me?”

  “Or me?”

  Amber shook her head. “I haven’t talked to him. But it’s not because we broke up,” she added quickly, as if to emphasize that she was still the most important person in Rex’s life. “I’m sure he’s been in conference with the police all day.” Her eyes lit up, a new idea popping into her brain. “Or at the courthouse. You know, one of his father’s best friends is the assistant district attorney. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mr. Cavanaugh has the National Guard called in to find DGM. Or the Army. Or the FBI.”

  “Or the A-Team,” Peanut said under her breath.

  Olivia snorted.

  “Because . . .” Amber’s voice trailed off. Her chest heaved and she stifled a fake sob. “Because if they can attack Rex Cavanaugh, who will be next? He’s the most popular guy in school. Who else could they go after? It would have to be the most popular person in school,” she said, laying deliberate emphasis on the gender-neutral noun.

  Jezebel yawned, big and loud, then answered Amber’s question like a good sidekick. “Like you.”

  Amber’s hand flew to her mouth as she sucked in about a gallon of oxygen. “Me?”

  Tyler’s arm shot around Amber’s shoulder, and Olivia half-wished Rex was at school to see his toady hit on his ex-girlfriend. “Don’t worry, Amber. We won’t let them hurt you.”

  “Yeah,” Kyle said. He eyed Amber’s shoulders as if looking for room to add his own muscly arm, then grabbed her hand instead. “We won’t let them hurt you.”

  Beside her on the bench, Olivia felt Peanut stiffen as Kyle stroked Amber’s hand lovingly. Ugh. Poor Peanut.

  “Do you think they would?” Amber asked, looking from one suitor to the other. “I mean, would they dare?”

  It was getting to be more than Olivia could stomach. She looked around, desperate for an escape. Anything she could use as an excuse to get away from Amber’s spectacle. Instead, she saw John wander out of the cafeteria, his nose buried in a comic book.

  Perfect timing.

  She waved, trying to catch his eye, and when he looked up at her, she flicked her head toward Amber.

  John paused and stared at her. “Now?” he mouthed.

  Olivia opened her eyes wide and nodded. “Now.”

  John wrinkled his nose and sighed, big and dramatic. A child being asked to do a chore he doesn’t want to do. But it only lasted a moment before he set his shoulders, thrust his hips forward, and sauntered over to their table like a rock star taking the stage.

  “John!” Amber squealed the moment she saw him. She quickly disentangled herself from Tyler and Kyle. “Did you hear what happened? Did you see it?”

  “Yeah.” John eyed Tyler and Kyle. “Really, um, messed up. To go after him like that.” He didn’t sound like he even remotely believed the words that were coming out of his mouth.

  Amber didn’t notice. She waved her hand, dismissing her audience. Tyler and Kyle slinked away, hands buried deep in the pockets of their matching jeans. “Rex is terrified of clowns,” she said, once they were out of earshot. “I’m not surprised he pissed himself.”

  Peanut tilted her head to the side. “I thought you just said you were absolutely positive the video was doctored?”

  Amber ignored her. “But I’m just so shaken.” She shuddered, wiggling her head and shoulders as if she’d been shocked by a cattle prod. “I mean, I could be next.”

  John stared at her blankly, formulating a response. Olivia knew the words on the tip of his tongue were something like “Yeah, and you’d deserve it” and she could see him struggle to suppress that instinct, and come up with something more in character.

  “You?” he said at last. “A target of DGM? But you’re Amber Steve
ns!”

  Amber giggled. “I am!” she said, as if being Amber Stevens was somehow a title of honor bestowed by a higher power instead of the name she was given at birth.

  “You practically run this school.” John smiled, pleased with himself. “Everyone looks up to you.”

  “They do, don’t they,” Amber said. It wasn’t a question.

  John bit his lip like a flirty schoolgirl and looked up at the sky. “I know I always have.”

  If Bree could see this display, she’d be laughing her ass off. Or punching someone. Or both.

  Amber squeezed John’s arm. “You are so adorable.” She turned back to Jezebel, Peanut, and Olivia. “Haven’t I always said that John was totally adorable?”

  “No,” Peanut said innocently.

  Amber scowled. “Yes, I have, Peanut.” She looked pointedly at Olivia. “Haven’t I?”

  “Um . . . sure?” She couldn’t keep the raised inflection out of her voice. But thankfully Amber didn’t notice. The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch.

  Amber launched herself off the table. “Time for drama!”

  Olivia smiled. She was right on so many levels.

  “Walk me?” Amber latched onto John’s arm like a debutante waiting to be escorted into the ball.

  John sighed. “Sure.” He trudged off, Amber leeched to his side, with all the enthusiasm of a soldier on a suicide mission.

  “Thank God,” Peanut said. She grabbed the remnants of her lunch and shoved them in her bag, and Olivia noticed for the first time that she’d barely eaten anything.

  “You okay?” she asked, quickly following her friend.

  Peanut looked at her sidelong, instantly suspicious. “Yeah.”

  Why so on edge? “You didn’t eat any lunch.” Olivia forced a laugh. “Still on the cleanse?”

  “Cleanse?” Peanut replied, obviously confused.

  Olivia made a mental note never to do one of Mrs. Dumbrowski’s master cleanses. It had turned Peanut’s brain to mush.

  Mr. Cunningham bounded out from the wings the moment the bell rang. “Settle down, everyone. Settle!”

  Olivia looked up and noticed that he’d wheeled the big-screen television onto the stage.

  “Exciting news today!” he said, as the din lowered. He held up his hand. In it was a DVD. “I’ve got the video from opening night!”

  Olivia went rigid in her seat. Finally! The police had presumably gone over the video several times, looking for any evidence in regard to Margot’s attack. But they didn’t know what to look for.

  “I picked it up from the police department yesterday after class,” Mr. Cunningham said, “but I haven’t watched it yet. I wanted to share that joy with all of you. Now I know we’re all excited, but let us remember the tragic events that took place that evening.” He gestured to Logan. “And be respectful of those still suffering because of it.”

  “Thanks, dude,” Logan said. His face was stoic.

  “So with that in mind, I give you . . .” Mr. Cunningham waved his hand with a dramatic flourish and backed off the stage. “Twelfth Precinct.”

  Mr. Cunningham disappeared into the wings and the house lights dimmed, leaving the theater illuminated only by the blue glow of the television. The screen went static, then the video began. Olivia could see the theater, curtains open to reveal the sets representing seventies New York, and hear the audience twittering, waiting for the show to begin. She held her breath as the house lights dimmed and the screen went black. This was it.

  Music blared from the speakers, but it wasn’t the rock track played by Bangers and Mosh. It was a funky calliope song from a hooty pipe organ, like you’d hear on an old-time merry-go-round.

  “Hey!” Shane called out. “That’s not our band. Did you replace us for the DVD release?”

  Before Mr. Cunningham could answer, a photo popped onto the screen. It was a close-up of a wooden sign, hand-painted in yellow with the words “Camp Shred.” After a couple of seconds, another photo took its place. This was a wider shot, showing the Camp Shred sign in the middle of the woods at what appeared to be a summer camp.

  Olivia’s hands went cold. Had someone accidentally taped over the only piece of evidence DGM had?

  A subtitle zoomed into frame.

  Camp Shred, Jones Gulch, CA—June, 2005

  “Oh my God!” Amber gasped.

  The photos accelerated, one every few seconds. They showed groups of kids, age ten or eleven, participating in a variety of camp activities—canoeing, swimming, hiking, arts and crafts. All of them were on the chubby side, a few were borderline obese. And one girl was prominent in every photo, her wavy light-brown hair eerily familiar.

  The slideshow paused on a close-up the girl’s face, the image of her chubby, smiling cheeks lingering on the screen.

  It wasn’t until Amber shot to her feet that Olivia realized with a sick feeling in her stomach that it was a photo of her.

  “How dare you!” Amber screamed to no one in particular. Then before Olivia could stop her, she ran up the aisle and out of the classroom.

  She didn’t even see the final image on the screen.

  Courtesy of DGM.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  TWENTY-THREE

  ED COULDN’T BELIEVE WHAT HE WAS SEEING ON HIS PHONE AS he streamed out of English literature.

  It was amazing, really. Not the fact that the new DGM had pulled off two pranks in one day, but the fact that Ed didn’t know Amber Stevens had been to fat camp.

  He took it as a personal affront by these DGM copycats. At Margot’s request, he’d been digging into Amber’s past for the last six months and hadn’t found so much as a hint of Amber’s Camp Shred history. Sure, it had probably been in fifth grade, before her family moved to Menlo Park. And of course Amber, who’d cemented her queen bitch reputation by making fun of other people’s weight, would have gone to tremendous lengths to ensure no one ever knew about her hypocritical past. But Ed prided himself on being smarter—and sneakier—than almost anyone else at school, and the fact that the new DGM had succeeded where he had failed stung like hell.

  He sighed as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. If only Margot was here to see it. Ed was pretty sure this montage would elicit a smile.

  The hallways at Bishop DuMaine were a seething mass of confusion. Father Uberti had dismissed school for the day just twenty minutes into fourth period. He wanted everyone to vacate the campus immediately, pending the police investigation of the newest DGM transgressions. Around him, students were running every which way, gossiping, laughing. Cell phones and tablets that weren’t lit up with the Amber montage were playing the video of Rex and the clown. Teachers scurried through the halls, trying to get students to break up their powwows and go home. Ed noted the whistles of gym coaches and the screams of police sirens in the distance.

  Everyone thought DGM was dead since Bree Deringer had turned herself in. Idiots.

  Now only one question remained: who would get framed for these latest DGM crimes against Bishop DuMaine humanity?

  And more importantly, how did Ed make sure it wasn’t him?

  He wove through the hallways, the only student not transfixed by his cell phone screen, and searched for someone who could help with the answer to this question. It didn’t take him long to spot the tall figure of Kitty Wei striding purposefully down the hall, her long ponytail swishing violently from side to side.

  “Hola, Miss Student Body Vice President,” Ed said, sliding up behind her. “A word, if you will?”

  Kitty didn’t even look at him. “No time. I have to meet Kyle and Tyler. They’re taking me to see Rex.”

  “In case it’s slipped your notice,” Ed said quietly, straining to keep up with her long stride, “we’re all about to be sacrificial lambs. Old F.U. is going to tear the school apart to find out who was behind these pranks, and do you
really think the newbie perps have the fail-safes in place like you hardened criminals? It’s only a matter of time before they’re caught, and you’d better pray they don’t know shit about you.”

  Kitty stopped dead in her tracks and Ed plowed into her solid frame, momentarily knocking his breath away. Before he could regain his composure, Kitty gripped his arm so fiercely he thought his arteries might pop and dragged him out of the nearest door into the deserted courtyard by the boys’ locker room.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” she growled through clenched teeth. He’d never seen Kitty this pissed off before. Apparently, he’d hit a nerve. “Are you trying to get us arrested?”

  Ed smiled while he rubbed the numbness out of his upper arm. “I’m watching out for number one, that’s all.”

  “Of course you are.” Kitty stuck her finger in Ed’s face. “And how do we know you won’t protect yourself by turning us in?”

  “You don’t.” Ed smiled broadly. “You just have to trust me.”

  “Make no mistake about this,” Kitty said, glaring down at him. “I don’t.”

  Just then, the side door to the school burst open and Logan lumbered into the courtyard. Instinctively, both Ed and Kitty jumped apart and acted like they hadn’t been involved in a heated confrontation just moments before.

  “Hey,” Logan said, glancing back and forth between them.

  Ed immediately donned an affable, friendly demeanor. “Logan, my man.” He held his hand up for a high five. “Don’t leave me hanging, bro.”

  Logan stared at Ed’s raised hand but didn’t reciprocate. “How’s your aunt Helen?”

  Ed felt his face grow hot.

  Kitty arched an eyebrow. “Aunt Helen?”

  “Don’t ask.” Ed eyed Logan, wondering if he was serious or pulling his leg. “She’s fine,” he said slowly.

  “Oh,” Logan said with a smile. “Good. Hey, can I talk to Kitty? In private?”

  “Anything you can say to Miss Wei,” Ed said, channeling a hotshot sports agent, “you can say to me. I have exclusive rights to all professional interviews and—”