“Hey, are you going to Brooke’s funeral? It’s this weekend.”
“I’d like to, but wouldn’t it be weird if I did? People think I had something to do with her murder.”
“Who cares what people think?” Stephanie said. “You know you didn’t do it, and I believe you didn’t do it. You and Brooke were friends, so you should go and pay your respects.”
“I’ll think about it,” I said.
“So, how was the party Friday night?”
“It was pretty wild. How come you weren’t there?”
“I don’t go to those parties. It’s not really my thing.”
“Oh. Well, you’re lucky you didn’t go.” I lowered my voice to a whisper. “Some guy tried to rape me in the bathroom.” Stephanie’s mouth fell open. “It’s okay, though. Mark got there in time and saved me from that jerk.”
She looked relieved. “So you’re okay?”
“Yeah. I mean, I was a little rattled, but I’m all right now.”
“Who was this guy, anyway?”
“All I know is his name is Zack. He said he was a senior.”
“Ohmigod! Does he go to our school?”
“I don’t know. I hope not,” I said, raising my eyebrows.
“Anyway, enough about A-hole,” Stephanie said with a giggle. “I was thinking maybe we can hang out tonight.”
I was about to answer her when I saw Jessica charging through the hall. Her hair was a little unkempt, and she looked flustered.
“Uh, sure. We can hang at my house if you want.” I glanced at her, then back at the hall, but Jessica was gone.
“Cool.”
“Okay, I’ll meet you at my locker after school,” I said.
I took off to try to catch up with Jessica. As I sprinted down the hall, I accidentally nudged a petite girl wearing glasses into a set of lockers. I went as far as the mathematics wing, but she was nowhere to be seen. The first bell rang, so students scurried to their classes. The rattling of latches and lockers slamming shut murmured throughout the hall.
During English, I kept staring at Brooke’s empty desk. Who would want to kill her? I then remembered that Brooke wanted to tell me something in private. What if somebody knew what she was going to tell me and wanted to shut her up? My mind started racing. I had to find out who killed Brooke, and why.
Suddenly, the principal’s voice blared through the school’s PA system to announce the candidates for homecoming queen, and to my surprise, I was one of them! “Congrats Hanna!” shouted Kathleen Ward, who sat in the desk next to me.
“Thanks!” Josh turned around and gave me a thumbs up. I couldn’t help but smile to myself. I wasn’t expecting to be nominated. I hoped Claire wasn’t mad at me.
I was working on the worksheet Mr. Harding had assigned to the class when the principal’s voice boomed from the speakers again, demanding Josh to come to the office.
“Uh oh…I guess I’m in trouble,” joked Josh.
The class laughed as he stood up, gathered his books, and left.
During lunch, I went to the computer lab. I found an unoccupied computer and logged in with my student number and password. I then logged on to Twitter and clicked on Brooke’s page. I looked through her tweets and found one that was posted on September 22nd. It said: What a jerk! . Who was she talking about? A possible boyfriend?
I kept reading through her tweets, and one on September 25th hit me in the face because that was the day she died and it was posted about two hours before we planned to meet. It said: Looking forward to the Art Exhibit and Competition at Colonel Park this weekend! I have a chance to win a scholarship! I didn’t know she was an artist. I guess there was a lot I didn’t know about her.
Another tweet posted the day Brooke died made my blood run cold. It said: I’ve made my decision and I’m sticking to it! What was she talking about? I decided to log on to Facebook and look at her Facebook page. As I scanned through her friends, one guy caught my attention because he’d posted on Brooke’s wall several times; he’d made several nice comments about her, and he’d tagged her in a lot of pictures. His name was Scott Harrison, and he went to Mohawk Centennial High School. I needed to find this guy and talk to him.
I logged off the computer and scurried out of the lab. I needed a ride to Mohawk Centennial High School, but I didn’t want to ask Claire, so I decided to ask Stephanie. I sprinted through the hallway, almost knocking over a teacher carrying a handful of supplies. By the time I reached the cafeteria, I was out of breath. I stood in the doorway and was scanning the room when I spotted Claire. She was sitting at a round table with Katie and a bunch of people I didn’t know. She had mascara running down her cheeks, and her long eyelashes were wet from her tears. I watched as all her friends bowed to her, like she was their queen on a throne.
A girl in a pink button down sweater carrying a tray of food walked by with a group of girls, and I overheard her talking about Josh. “Maybe Josh was cheating on Claire with Brooke!” she blurted.
A male voice from behind me said, “I bet he was bangin’ her.”
The thought of that sent a shiver up my spine.
I didn’t see Stephanie, so I turned around and bumped into Mark. “Hey, you.”
“Heyyy.”
“Congratulations on being nominated for homecoming queen.”
I tossed some hair over my shoulder. “Thanks.”
”You’ll definitely get my vote.” He leaned in the doorway. “Speaking of homecoming, would you like to go with me?” He smelled like sweet cologne. I thought about it for a second. Mark is cute and available, so why not?
“Sure.”
“Great,” he said with a huge grin on his face.
“Well, I gotta go, but we’ll talk later.”
“Cool.”
I ran towards the writing center. As I darted past the music wing, I almost knocked over a guy carrying a guitar.
“Hey, watch it!” he shouted.
I whizzed past a big poster that said KEEP CALM AND DO YOUR HOMEWORK when suddenly I thudded into somebody and their bag hit the floor. It was Jessica. I almost didn’t recognize her. She was wearing black track pants and a black Hello Kitty T-shirt. Her hair was scraggly, and she wasn’t wearing any make-up. Her face was pale, and dark circles were under her eyes.
“Where’s the fire?” she said sarcastically as she knelt down and started throwing things back in her purse. She caught me staring at her. “What are you looking at?”
“Jessica? What happened to you? Where have you been?”
“What’s it to you?” she snapped.
I went down on the floor and helped her pick up her stuff as people walked all around us. All of a sudden, an orange medication bottle caught my eye. I picked it up and noticed it was prescribed to her mother. She abruptly grabbed it out of my hand.
“What are those for?” I asked.
“Mind your own business!” she hissed.
I watched as she stormed off, clasping her bag to her chest. I turned around to go to the writing center when I spotted Stephanie coming out of the girls’ bathroom. I darted towards her.
“Stephanie!”
“Hey! What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you could give me a ride somewhere.”
“Okay, you really need to get a car,” she said with a wry smile.
“I know, right? Try telling that to my mother.”
“So where do you need to go?”
“Mohawk Centennial High School.”
“What for?”
I gently took her arm and pulled her aside. “I’m looking for somebody. His name is Scott Harrison, and he goes to that school,” I whispered.
“Why are you looking for him?”
“Whoever killed Brooke is still walking amongst us. Who knows, he could even go to this school,” I said as I cast a wary glance around me.
“How do you know it was a guy?”
“What?”
“You said he, but it could be a she.”
/> “Whatever. So, can I get a ride or not?”
She bit her bottom lip. “Fine.”
“Cool, thanks. Let’s go.”
“Wait, now? What about class?”
“I think this is more important right now. Come on.”
I took her hand and pulled her along. The second bell chimed as we dashed out the student parking doors. She led me to a silver Honda Civic four door. She opened her car door, got in, then unlocked my side. Her car smelt like strawberries; she had one of those car fresheners hanging from the rearview mirror.
“Strawberries. Nice touch,” I said.
“Thanks. So how do we get to this school?” she asked as she started her car and put on her sunglasses.
I pulled up the GPS on my Motorola, then started reading her the directions as she drove.
“Do you think this guy we’re going to see had something to do with Brooke’s murder?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the road as she merged onto the highway.
“I don’t know, but he posted a lot on Brooke’s Facebook page, so he might know something.”
“Like who would have a motive to kill her?”
“Maybe.”
As Stephanie merged off the highway at Lionel Street and made a right, I immediately saw a sign that read WELCOME TO LOCKHAVEN. The area in which we were driving began to look bleak. The houses looked ancient, and there were run-down apartment buildings at almost every corner. The cars looked cheap, and there wasn’t a palm tree in sight.
“I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore,” I snickered.
Stephanie snapped her head towards me and giggled.
I caught sight of a woman across the street, pushing a shopping cart full of junk. We suddenly approached a small brown bricked school. The words Mohawk Centennial High School were written in big white letters above big red double doors.
“You have reached your destination,” blared from the GPS.
“We’re he-re,” I sing-songed.
Stephanie turned at the nearest street and parked at the corner facing the side of the school, then pulled up her emergency brake and turned off the ignition. I got out of the car and threw my bag over my shoulder. Stephanie circled around the car, and we headed towards the red doors. There were two guys talking outside. One of them had long brown scraggly hair that looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. He was wearing green canvas shorts, a white T-shirt, and a pair of old black and white Converses. The other guy had a shaved head and a pierced lip. He was wearing a wifebeater and a pair of old jeans.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Stephanie asked, nervous.
“Relax. I just wanna talk to him to see what he knows.
Then we’ll go right back to school.”
“So, how are we going to find what’s his name?”
“His name is Scott Harrison, and I’m not sure yet, but we can start by asking these guys if they know him.”
“Excuse me?”
“Hey, pretty ladies,” the one with the scraggly hair said with a smile.
“Do you guys know anybody by the name of Scott Harrison?”
The guys looked at each other, then shook their heads no.
“Sorry,” the one with the scraggly hair said.
“Thanks anyway. Come on Stephanie, let’s go.”
“Try the cafeteria,” shaved head murmured.
“Thanks.”
We walked past the guys and entered the school. A row of red lockers was to my left, and a row of yellow lockers was to my right. They looked old and beaten up. An overflowing garbage bin sat in the corner between the yellow lockers and the doors, and an empty chip bag occupied a spot on the floor next to it. As we scurried through the hall and went left down the next hall, we heard somebody coming and bolted into the washroom. We listened by the door; the footsteps grew louder, then tapered off. I opened the bathroom door and peeked out. There was nobody there, so we dashed out and sprinted down the hall.
Most of the classroom doors were closed in session. As we kept walking, I could hear the murmur of conversation getting closer.
“I think the cafeteria is this way,” I said, pointing.
As Stephanie whisked next to me, the sound of my heels echoed through the hall. When we reached the cafeteria, I scanned the room but didn’t see Scott.
“Do you know what he looks like?” Stephanie asked.
“Yeah. I saw his picture on Facebook.”
Several tables were jam-packed with students, while others were practically empty. I got a whiff of pizza, and my stomach began to grumble.
“How are we gonna find him in here?” Stephanie asked.
“We’ll just ask a few people to see if they know him,” I replied.
I roamed from table to table and asked various people if they knew Scott, but they all said they didn’t; I was beginning to wonder if this guy had any friends. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and when I turned around a girl stood in front of me. She had long dirty blonde hair that was side braided over her shoulder, and she wore a black toque. Her eyelashes were thick and dressed in black mascara, and they hung over her brown almond-shaped eyes. Her lips were pale and thin.
“I overheard that you’re looking for Scott Harrison?” she said.
“Yeah. Do you know him?” I asked.
She nodded her head up and down. “Yeah, I know him. He’s kind of a loner.”
No kidding, I thought.
“He eats his lunch by himself by his locker.”
“Can you take us to him?”
“You guys don’t go to this school, do you?” she asked.
“No, we go to Willowdale High,” I said.
Her eyes widened. “Boy, did you end up on the wrong side of the tracks,” she said with a smirk.
“We need to talk to him about something,” I pressed.
“Come on,” she said, gesturing with her head, “I’ll take you to him.” Stephanie and I followed her out of the cafeteria and down the far hall. “By the way, I’m Sara,” she called out as she walked ahead of us.
We passed a couple girls spouting about some show they’d watched last night. We turned right down another hall, and from afar I saw a guy with short black messy hair sitting on the floor with his back against the lockers and his knees bent. He was scribbling in a book.
“Hey, Scott! These girls are looking for you!” Sara said.
He stopped what he was doing and gazed up at us with his round blue eyes. He had an oblong-shaped head and a narrow jawline. His pointy nose hung over his dry lips. He had black studs in his ears, and he was wearing black khaki shorts, a black Simpsons T-shirt, and black canvas shoes. There was something ominous about him.
“Who are you?” he questioned in a deep voice.
“I’m Hanna, and this is Stephanie. We go to Willowdale High.”
He snapped his neck to look at me with his bulging eyes. “What do you want?”
“All right, I’m outta here,” Sara muttered.
“Thanks for your help, Sara,” I called out.
She smiled and began to walk away. As her footsteps trailed off, Stephanie paced from side to side and bit her bottom lip. I directed my attention to Scott, who was still waiting for an answer.
“We need to talk to you about Brooke,” I said.
His shoulders stiffened. “I already told the police everything I know.”
“How do you know her?” I asked.
He put his notebook and pencil on the floor, then stood up as he stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Brooke and I have been best friends since grade nine.”
“Just friends?” I asked.
He looked away and took a couple steps back, then leaned his back against the lockers and crossed his arms over his chest.
“Oh yeah, we’re…just friends.”
“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked.
He began rubbing the back of his neck. “I don’t remember...last week maybe?”
“Did she say anything out of
the ordinary to you? Maybe about somebody after her or something?”
He shook his head from left to right. “No, nothing,” he said, then tilted his head like he was thinking about something. “Wait, a while ago she asked me to help her play a prank on Claire Miller.”
“What do you mean a prank? What kind of prank?”
“She wasn’t sure. She wanted to get back at Claire for something she did to her a long time ago. She really hated her. I know how Brooke thinks, though. It’s either go big or go home, and whatever it was, I couldn’t go through with it.” He walked back and forth. “I’m already on probation for drug possession, so I have to stay out of trouble.”
“Ohmigod. Is there any way Claire found out about that?”
“I don’t know…why?” he asked.
I thought about the blood-stained shirt I’d found stashed at the back of Claire’s closet.
“Because maybe Claire got to Brooke first,” I said.
CHAPTER TEN—TIME DOESN’T HEAL ALL WOUNDS
Scott’s mouth was wide open as he ran his hand through his thick hair. “Whoa…so you think maybe Claire killed Brooke?” he said.
“I don’t know, but it’s a possibility. Brooke was her archenemy. Besides, she’s the only suspect I have right now,” I said.
“Well, besides you,” Stephanie blurted. I shot her a look. “Sorry,” she said while twirling a strip of her long black hair through her fingers.
“Wait, you’re a suspect?” Scott asked me.
“Don’t you watch the news?” Stephanie asked, incredulous.
“I was set up!” I snapped.
“What do you mean you were set up? Who would want to set you up?”
“I don’t know! That’s what I have to find out!”
I proceeded to tell him how Brooke and I had planned to meet at her house and what I found when I got there. I even told him about how my texts disappeared.
“Wow, this is wild,” Scott said, then leaned his back against the lockers and tilted his head back.
“Tell me about it. That’s why I need your help,” I said.
He was quiet for a moment. “Okay, well there is this guy she dated briefly a little while ago. His name is Mike Ellis. After he got what he wanted he dumped her. She was pretty shaken up about it.”
Masquerade of Lies Page 9