“Mrs. Tillier, I’m really sorry for your loss, but I’m telling you, like I told the police, I didn’t do this,” I said in a calm voice.
“And you!” she said, turning to face Claire. “You hated my daughter. She knew things about you that nobody else does. You might have everybody else at this school fooled, but I can see right through you,” she said, pointing her finger in Claire’s face.
“Get your finger out of my face!” Claire snapped.
“Or what? You gonna kill me, too?” Brooke’s mother shot back.
Claire started laughing.
“What is so damn funny, Claire?!” I exclaimed.
Claire looked at me, then circled around Brooke’s mom. “She’s delusional,” she said. “Besides, she can’t prove anything. If she could, they would have arrested us already.” She faced Brooke’s mom. “You’re just a crazy, lonely lady mourning her daughter. It’s time for you to leave now,” she said with a smug look on her face.
By that time, flocks of students surrounded us. I spotted the school principal, Mr. Drake, leafing through the crowded hall in our direction.
“You’re going to pay for this,” Brooke’s mother muttered, then looked at me. “You both will.” She spun on her heels and marched in the opposite direction, then stopped abruptly and turned around. “And don’t even think about coming to the funeral! You’re not welcome!” she yelled, then proceeded to walk away.
As the tapping of her heels trailed off down the hall, my heart seized in my chest. I looked at Katie and saw her lips parted in shock, but Claire surprisingly remained calm.
She smiled and took hold of my hand. “Relax. It’s gonna be okay,” she said.
“Okay, everybody get to class now!” yelled Mr. Drake. The flood of students began to dissipate. “Come on, girls, let’s get to class,” he said to us.
“Hey, Claire?” I said. She turned around and gazed at me. “What did she mean when she said Brooke knew things about you that nobody else does?”
“Who knows,” Claire said with a shrug of her shoulders. “She’s crazy.” With that, she left.
I watched as she walked away. Everybody left but me; my legs felt like they were made of lead. I just stood there thinking about what Brooke’s mother had said. What did Brooke know about Claire that nobody else knew? Whoever did this wanted to make sure their secrets died with her.
CHAPTER ELEVEN—GUILTY UNTIL PROVEN INNOCENT
After school that day, Claire dropped me off at home. When I walked in the front door, the smell of fresh coffee grounds filled my nostrils. As I made my way into the living room, I saw Detective Walters and my mother sitting on the couch talking.
“Hi, honey! I heard what happened at school today!” my mom said as she shot up from the couch and threw her arms around me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Mom. Hi, Detective Walters.”
“Hi, Miss Clark.” He stood up and fixed his jacket. “I need you to come down to the station with me.”
“Why? Am I under arrest?” I said with a smirk.
“No, no, we’re just going to have a conversation.”
“Okay.”
I looked at my mother, and she nodded her head in a you-have-nothing-to-worry-about sort of way. I could see the worry in her face, though. She was just trying to be strong for me.
“I’ll come, too,” she said. She grabbed her purse from the kitchen table, and we left.
I rode in the car with my mother, and we followed Detective Walters to the station. Shortly after, we pulled up to the drab grey building. When we got inside, he put me in the same room as last time, and my mother sat in the waiting room.
“Have a seat, Miss Clark,” he said, gesturing to the grey plastic chair.
I sat down, and he took the seat on the other side of the table. He had a manila folder in his hand. He tossed it on the table and crossed his arms across his chest.
“Hanna, did you know that Brooke was pregnant?”
I felt a rush of heat to my face. My mouth fell open. “No, I didn’t.” That’s probably what she wanted to tell me, I thought.
“Well, she was eight weeks pregnant. Do you have any idea who the father could be?”
I shook my head in disbelief. “No, sorry.”
The autopsy report showed that the estimated time of death was between 8pm and 10pm on September 25th. Where were you during that time?”
“I went to the bleachers to meet Brooke around 8pm, but she never showed up. I left about eight thirty and went to her house, but she wasn’t there.”
“Did anybody see you go to the bleachers?”
“I don’t know. I don’t think so.”
“Have you located your phone?”
“Yes…but…”
“But what?”
“The text messages are gone.”
He stood up and paced around the table. “So let me get this straight. You and Brooke planned to meet at the bleachers, but she didn’t show up, and nobody saw you there; so really, you have no alibi. Then your phone was missing at the scene of the crime, and now you have your phone, but the texts messages between you and Brooke are gone.”
“I know how this sounds, but–”
“I don’t think you do, Miss Clark.” He leaned over and put his hands on the table, gazing at me as he furrowed his brow. The stench of spearmint gum and Old Spice stifled my nose. “You’re being suspected of murder! You can go to jail! You have to give me something.” He sat down in the chair. “With your permission, we would like to contact your cell phone provider to see your phone records.”
“Go ahead! I have nothing to hide!” He nodded his head and sat down.
“We traced the cell phone tower you used to text Brooke, and it appears you were where you said you were; at the school by the bleachers.”
“I told you,” I said with a smirk.
“Wait a minute,” he said holding up one finger. “At around eight forty-five you used a cell tower by Brooke’s house to call Brooke’s cell.”
“I just told you that I went to her house!”
“Yes you did, but you failed to mention that you were there for over an hour. You used the same cell tower to place a call to your house at nine fifty-two. I asked your mother what time you got home that night, and she said you didn’t get home until ten o’clock.” He stood up again. “So, if Brooke wasn’t home, where were you during that hour?”
“I was waiting for her in my car and I fell asleep.”
“Really? You fell asleep? That’s the best you got?” My heart thudded in my chest. “I don’t know what else to tell you!” I exclaimed.
My palms became sweaty, so I hid them under my legs. Detective Walters sat back down and opened the folder to a bunch of photos of Brooke that were taken at the crime scene. He tossed a few of them on the table.
“Look at her!” he yelled, pointing to a picture.
As I shifted my eyes to look at it, I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. A single tear rolled down my cheek. He sat forward and clutched the folder in his hands as he flipped through the pages.
“The autopsy report confirmed that Brooke died from blunt head trauma.” He tossed the folder back on the desk. “So why were her wrists cut?”
“I don’t know!”
“You cut her wrists, didn’t you, Miss Clark?”
“No!”
“Who helped you?”
“Nobody helped me!”
“Oh, so you did do it by yourself?”
“No! You’re twisting my words!”
“Just tell me the truth!”
“I didn’t do this,” I said, shaking my head from left to right. Unable to suppress all my tears anymore, I broke down. “Please, can I just go home?”
He gazed at me for a long moment, then said, “Sure.” He straightened up and walked over to the door, then opened it and stepped aside. “But I suggest you get a lawyer.”
I sprung up from the chair and scurried out the door. When my mom saw me,
she stood up and I ran into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably.
***
The next day, I pulled into Brooke’s driveway, shifted my mom’s car into park, and cut the engine. I took a deep breath and opened the door. My pulse quickened; the last time I was here, I found Brooke breathless and motionless...I couldn’t get that image out of my head.
As I sauntered up the walkway to Brooke’s door, I bit my lip. I didn’t know how Brooke’s mom was going to react to seeing me after yesterday’s fiasco at school, when she blatantly accused me and Claire of killing her daughter. I wanted to turn around, get back in the car, and drive away, but I had to talk to her. I needed to convince her I was innocent. I wanted her to know that Brooke and I were like sisters and I could never do the things I was being accused of doing. I wanted to explain that Brooke was going to tell me something the night she died, and maybe with her help I could figure out what it was. I just needed five minutes. My freedom depended on it.
As I rang the doorbell, my hand was shaking and my heart was in my throat. I could hear footsteps approaching the door. Suddenly, the door jerked open and Brooke’s mom stood in the doorway. She was in an ivory plush bathrobe, and her hair was pulled back. She gazed at me for a moment with her mouth slightly parted, then she stood up straight and tied her robe closed. “What the hell are you doing here?” she snapped.
“Hi, Mrs. Tillier. I’m sorry to show up unannounced like this, but I need to talk to you about something.”
“You have some nerve coming here.”
“I swear, I didn’t kill your daughter. If you give me five minutes, I can explain everything.”
“Get out of here! If you come here again, I’ll call the police! Now get off my property!” she yelled before closing the door in my face.
I turned around and quickly walked back to the car, then unlocked the door and got in. I crossed my arms over the steering wheel and rested my head on them. At that moment, I felt so hopeless. I was gonna go down for Brooke’s murder, and there was nothing I could do about it.
I thought about my mother. I thought about how my father had left us and how in the long run all we had were each other. I couldn’t abandon her, too. I couldn’t give up. Come hell or high water, I was going to figure out who sealed Brooke’s fate before they sealed mine, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE—KISSING THE ENEMY
“Gimme a W! Gimme an O! Gimme an L! Gimme a V! Gimme an E! Gimme an S! Gooooo, Wolves!” chanted the cheerleaders.
Their routine was flawless. Claire was the captain of the cheerleading squad, and she clearly had them well-trained.
This was the Willowdale football team’s big game the night before the homecoming dance. They were playing against The Vulchers and winning fourteen to nine. Stephanie couldn’t make it because she had to work on her paper, so I begged my mother to let me borrow her car so I could go to the game solo. I had my eye on 23, because that was Josh’s number. I also followed 17, as that was Mark’s number.
It was Friday night, and there were so many people at the game. The bleachers were jam-packed. Almost everybody had a small flag in their hand that they were waving. The clapping sounded like thunder, and the roar of the crowd like lions. The big bright lights illuminated the field. The smell of popcorn permeated the air. I started getting hungry, so I called over one of the servers so I could get a hot dog. I was struggling with a small pack of ketchup, and when I finally got it open, the guy next to me accidentally bumped my arm, causing me to spill ketchup on myself.
“I’m so sorry,” he said.
“That’s okay,” I muttered as I turned my head to see who I was talking to. He was cute, with short dirty blonde hair and blue eyes; he had a Paul Walker vibe to him.
“Are you here alone?” he asked.
“Yeah, unfortunately.”
“Me, too. Why didn’t your boyfriend come with you?”
“Don’t really have one.”
“That’s too bad,” he said in a I’m not really disappointed kind of way. “Hey...you’re that girl who found that student dead, right?”
“Actually…yeah, I am.” Yeah…that’s how I wanna be known…as the girl who found a student dead.
“Hanna, right?”
“That’s me. So, why are you here alone?” I asked.
“My buddy bailed on me.”
“That sucks.”
“It did...until now,” he said with a smile.
My phone started buzzing, so I took it out of my pocket to see who it was. As I looked at the screen, my heart seized in my chest: it was a mysterious text that said you could be next. The text message came from a blocked number. I snapped up and looked around nervously.
“Is everything okay?” the cute guy asked.
“Yeah...I just have a headache.”
I ran my hand through my hair and scanned the arena, but almost everybody had their fingers hovered over their smartphones. Suddenly, I spotted somebody in a hooded sweater lurking behind a big oak tree by the parking lot.
“Are you all right?” the cute guy asked as he stood up beside me and touched my arm.
I jumped out of my skin. “I’m sorry, I have to go,” I said.
Clutching my phone, I ran down the bleachers and took a little stumble. I got up and continued to run. The big oak tree was abandoned; the hooded stranger I saw lurking behind it was gone. It was dark, and there wasn’t a person in sight. Everybody was at the game. The parking lot was quiet, but the music from the game vibrated in the background. My heart pounded in my throat.
I had turned around to go back to the game when a car came out of nowhere at full speed. It was a dark blue sedan, similar to the unknown car I saw outside of Starbucks. The parking lot was lightless, so I couldn’t make out the license plate. I was running as fast as I could when I suddenly thudded into something hard and everything went black.
***
I slowly opened my eyes and found my mom and dad hovering over me. Claire and Katie stood behind them.
“Dad?”
“Hi, honey. How are you feeling?” he asked.
I slowly turned my head and saw Stephanie. “Where am I?” I asked. My head was pounding.
“You’re in the hospital. You hit your head,” Stephanie said.
Or somebody hit me in the head, I thought. “There was a blue sedan,” I said.
“What blue sedan?” my mother asked.
I slowly sat up in the bed. “The one that almost ran me over in the parking lot.”
My mom and dad looked at each other, then back at me with concerned looks on their faces.
“There was no blue sedan. Stephanie said she found you unconscious in the parking lot,” my mom said.
“How did you know I was there?” I asked Stephanie.
“I didn’t. I finished my paper and decided to come to the game, and I saw you lying there.”
“Why didn’t you text me?”
“Because I wanted to surprise you.”
“Oh. Well, if you had showed up a little earlier, you would have seen the blue sedan.”
“How hard did you hit your head, new girl?” asked Claire with a sneer.
“All I remember is standing in the parking lot, and then this blue four door sped towards me. Then I blacked out.”
“Why were you in the parking lot all by yourself?” my dad asked.
“Because I got this weird text, and I saw somebody watching me behind a tree and…”
Everybody stared at me like I was crazy. “Where’s my phone? Mom, get my phone!”
“Hanna, you need to rest right now,” my dad said. “You can have your ph–”
“No!” I shouted, cutting him off. “I need my phone now!”
My mother walked over to my purse and collected my phone. She handed it to me, and I searched for the strange text message I’d received.
“I remember watching the game and talking with this cute guy when I got this creepy text message telling me to–” My fingers stopped scrolling, and I just froze. Sudd
enly, I couldn’t catch my breath. “It’s gone,” I whispered.
“What’s gone?” my mother asked.
I looked up at everybody and rested my head on the pillow. “Nothing,” I said.
The doctor came in and told my parents I was free to go home. I knew I wasn’t imagining the whole thing. Somebody tried to run me over, and whoever it was probably had something to do with Brooke’s murder. Either they were the ones who killed Brooke, or they knew who did.
***
That night, I was lying on the couch watching television with my mother when the doorbell rang. My mom got up and answered the door. “Hanna! It’s for you! It’s Mark!” yelled my mother. I suddenly felt a warm glow through my body. My head was still aching, so I slowly got up from the couch and sauntered to the door. Mark was standing there and he was still in his football uniform. He had a small bouquet of red roses in his hand. When I saw him I smiled and he smiled back.
“There she is,” he said in a thoughtful voice.
“Hey.”
He encased me in his arms for a long moment then released me.
“Here, these are for you,” he said as he handed me the roses.
“Thank you, they’re beautiful.”
“Just like you.” My cheeks felt hot.
“I’m sorry I missed the game.”
“That’s all right…at least you’re okay. Besides, we won.”
“Oh good.”
“So, what happened anyway?”
“It’s a long story and my head is killing me. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Is that okay?”
“Oh…yeah, sure. I’ll let you rest then. I’ll see you tomorrow for the homecoming dance?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He leaned towards me and gave me a soft kiss on my lips. “Bye. Thanks again for the roses.”
“My pleasure,” he said before he turned around and walked away.
The next morning, I woke up to a text from Josh. It said: I heard what happened at the game last night. R u ok? I wrote back: Yeah, I’m fine thanks. How did you get my number? Then he said: I got it from Claire’s phone. Hey, can you meet me at Goodies Café in about an hour? It’s important. I wrote back: Sure. He said: Cool, c u soon.
I rolled out of bed and dragged my feet over to the mirror attached to my dresser. My hair was in shambles, and my skin looked dull. My eyes were red, and grey circles hung underneath them. I put my hands on my cheeks and suddenly noticed a purplish bruise on my forehead; I must have gotten that from hitting my head last night. Crap! Tonight was the homecoming dance. Thank God for concealer.
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