Pretty Little Devils (12 page)

“Oh, look,” Sylvia chirped. “Here's Breona's little friend Jenna Babcock.”

She hummed to herself as she highlighted Jenna's name. “Cheer, cheer, cheer. Three-point-two GPA. Wow, she really is boring.”

“Yeah,” Hazel said, her eyes devouring the screen. She couldn't believe it. Was she really seeing this?

“Ooh, how about little Lakshmi Sharma?” Sylvia suggested. “Let's see. She's been in the a cappella group for three years. Bo-ring! Hey, wait a minute. Who was your friend from last year? Was it Joy?” Sylvia tapped the screen with her acrylic nail. “Joy Krasner?”

“Yes,” Hazel affirmed. “But she moved….”

Sylvia scrolled back up the screen. “Nonetheless…here she is.” She highlighted Joy's name. The single line opened up into a file. Together they scanned Joy's grades, which were pretty good. Her extracurriculars were cool, too: drama club, film club….

“Oh, look here. She was seeing Clasen,” Sylvia pointed out.

Ms. Clasen was the school psychologist.

Sylvia looked from the screen to Hazel. “Did you know Joy was going to the loony bin?”

Hazel shook her head as she read on…. It didn't make sense.

Sylvia opened a new window and typed,
SAN JOSE CENTER FOR EATING DISORDERS
into Google.

“Oh my God,” Hazel whispered.

“Wait. You mean you really didn't know about any of this?” Sylvia pressed, sounding mildly incredulous.

“We haven't been writing. I sent her some e-mails, but she didn't reply. I thought…new school, moving on….” She covered her mouth. “Poor Joy.”

Sylvia sighed and pushed away from the keyboard. “Poor communication,” she said. “That's not the way friends treat friends, Haze. Friends tell each other
everything
.”

Hazel nodded as she continued to read. She crossed her arms over her chest, taking in the pictures of low buildings trailing with bougainvillea, the smiling portraits of the staff. Joy was in a place like this?

Her old blog had been titled
JOYFULLGRL
. She had always seemed so happy.

“Oh God. I never knew,” Hazel confessed. “We hung out all school year and I didn't have a clue.”

“That wouldn't happen with us,” Sylvia informed her. “Sure, the PLDs are hard on each other. We tease each other a lot, but we're totally solid. We let each other know things. We are each other's support. We have to stay tight.”

“I guess I didn't realize how rare it was. Or how important,” Hazel said.

“We are the most popular girls in school,” Sylvia stated without a trace of bragging. “Breona and her cheerleaders think they are, but that is so stupid, because after high school, they are going to go nowhere. This is their finest hour, and they don't even know it.”

Sylvia perched on Cynthia's bed. Her eyes shone. “Why? Because we're smarter than they are. We're the ones in the middle of the herd. Just us. Just the PLDs. Other people are going to come and go. But we're going to have each other. Real lives. And real friends—forever. When you have a crisis, you can come to us. When something wonderful happens, we want to hear about it first.” She paused. “But you have to share, Hazel. Let your friends really know you.”

Sylvia held out her arms. “Look at me. I'm an open book. Ask me something.”

Hazel blinked at her. “Like what?”

“Anything. Like, something I wouldn't tell just anybody. Something I would only tell a
friend
.”

“Um…”

Sylvia gave her dark hair a shake. “See? You're too shy to ask me. You don't think you have the right. But you can ask me
anything
. So go ahead.”

Hazel thought about the games of truth or dare she had played at sleepovers.

“Okay. Are you a virgin?” She blushed uncontrollably, but Sylvia snickered, unconcerned.

“I lost my virginity when I was fourteen. In France.” She looked expectantly at Hazel. “What about you?”

“Oh. God, I…” She rubbed her forehead. “I, um…”

“Remember, it's about trust.” She gave Hazel a slow grin, reached down, and opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table.

“This will help.” She pulled out a bottle of Cointreau.

“Whoa!” Hazel exclaimed. “Do all the parents stash this much alcohol around?”

“More or less. Some message for the kiddies, huh?” Sylvia opened the bottle and took a hefty swig. Then she wiped off the lip and handed it to Hazel.

“Um, I…” She looked down at the bottle.

“Oh, go ahead. There aren't any glasses in here anyway.

Hazel hesitated. Sylvia took the bottle, put it to Hazel's lips, and gave it a little tip. The thick liquor splashed into Hazel's mouth. It was good—orange-flavored. She drank some more.

Sylvia smiled at her. Then she reached into the drawer again and brought out a joint.

“Shut up!” Hazel cried.

Sylvia winced. “Haze. No one says, ‘Shut up', anymore.”

“I know. It's just—we can't smoke that.” She gestured to the joint. “She'll know.”

“You're right.” Sylvia dropped it back into the drawer and shut it. “And
I
know you have a secret, Hazel. Something you're not telling me. But if you want to be a PLD, you have to share.”

Hazel met Sylvia's bright blue stare. She thought about Joy—how she didn't know anything about her, despite the fact that they were supposed to have been close. She didn't want that to happen again. She wanted real friends. Friends till the end.

She grabbed the bottle of Cointreau, took a swig, and made a decision. “All right. I worked at a stable over the summer. There was this guy.”

Sylvia waited. “Like, a ranch hand?”

Hazel nodded. “He led trail rides. His name was Andy. He was maybe in his mid-twenties. He bought beer one night. We had a little too much to drink—well, I did, anyway….” She let her words trail off.

“That was the first time?” Sylvia asked.

Hazel nodded again.

“Did you regret it?” Sylvia gazed at her sympathetically.

“It all happened so fast.” Hazel's voice cracked. “God, I sound like an after-school special.”

“Oh, Haze.” Sylvia sighed, pulling her into a hug. “You're so incredibly sweet.”

Hazel melted against her shoulder. It was such a relief to finally tell someone the truth. She had held it in for so long.

“I can't believe I did it. I wish I could take it back,” she muttered.

Sylvia pulled away and looked into Hazel's damp eyes. She pushed an errant piece of hair away from Hazel's forehead. “Yeah, I get that. But it could have been much worse. I know you're upset. But this isn't as bad as you think. If you didn't get pregnant and you don't have a disease, let it go. Move on.”

She cocked her head. “You've been pretty sheltered, haven't you? Your parents…I don't think I've ever seen them around Brookhaven.”

“My parents?” Hazel guffawed. “My parents haven't been anywhere. The other night, my mom said something about how people in Scotland should learn to speak English.”

Sylvia chortled. “Oh my God! How clueless is that?”

Then the mood shifted back. “Listen, I'm glad you told me,” Sylvia said earnestly. “It's a sacred trust.”

“Thank you. I'm glad I told you too,” Hazel replied.

Sylvia returned to the computer and pulled up the screen with the student files again. She dropped down to
WU, BREONA
.

“Let's see here…” she murmured.

Intrigued, Hazel bent over Sylvia's shoulder. Sylvia pushed the bottle of Cointreau toward her, and Hazel had another drink.

“Hmm, this is interesting. Seems Breona is having some problems. She's on
antidepressants
.”

“Whoa,” Hazel breathed.

“That might explain why she's such a bitch.” Sylvia paused for a moment, thinking. “Wait. No, it doesn't.”

Chuckling softly, Hazel took another swig of Cointreau. If you opened your mouth when you drank it, the evaporation was like a little flame going off. It was an interesting feeling.

“Hmm, nothing about her drug bust. The paperwork must not be complete.”

“Wait a minute,” Hazel said, her thoughts slowing—growing fuzzy. “The drug bust. You guys called in antidepressants?”

“Well…” Sylvia shrugged.

Hazel frowned. “Come on. You said friends share.”

“Maybe we put a few extra little things in her locker.”

“What?”
Hazel nearly choked.

“Oh, please, Breona's drug use is well known. We didn't put anything in there that hadn't been in there before.”

Hazel stared at her. “So you planted the drugs, and then you called it in?”

“Yes. And with good reason.” Sylvia pushed the chair away from the monitor and folded her hands across her lap. “Let me tell you why I hate Breona. Because everyone thinks it's just about Josh, and that's not true.”

Hazel settled back onto the bed to listen.

“Breona and I started out as friends,” Sylvia began. “In fifth grade. We were the smartest girls. And the prettiest. We were in all the same activities. We told everyone we were best friends forever.” She smiled faintly. “But that wasn't enough for Breona. She was jealous. She didn't want anyone else hanging out with me. If they tried, she'd throw a tantrum or be mean. She started actually hitting the other girls. I didn't do any of it, but I got blamed right along with her. I spent more time sitting in the principal's office waiting for my mom to pick me up than I did in class.”

“Yow,” Hazel said. “That sucks.”

“Hugely. I told my mother what was going on. Thank God she believed me. She said I couldn't play with Breona anymore. That was more than fine with me. Then Breona went nuts. She wouldn't leave me alone. She kept calling my house and coming by, begging me to be her friend.” Sylvia looked at Hazel. “
Serious
boundary issues.”

“No doubt,” Hazel said, taking another swig of Cointreau. She felt pleasantly dizzy.

“Things kept escalating. My parents talked to her parents. My mom suggested therapy, and
Breona's
mom went nuts.”

“No way.
Really
?”

“Really. We just wanted them to stay away from us. Life went on. Fifth grade ended. We were zoned for different middle schools—proving there
is
a God.” Sylvia ironically made the sign of the cross. “I thought I was free of Breona Wu.”

Her voice dropped. She took a deep breath, a dainty sip of Cointreau….

“And then my dog,” she said finally. “His name was Asterix.”

“What happened to him?” Hazel asked.

“I don't know.” Sylvia's eyes welled. “He disappeared. I couldn't prove that Breona had anything to do with it. Even though I
knew
. People said he must have gone out the side gate. But we
always
closed that gate.”

A single tear slid down Sylvia's cheek. Hazel had never seen her look so vulnerable.

“Oh, Sylvia, I'm so sorry,” she murmured. “That's…that's just awful.”

“She kind of haunted me after that. I'd get calls, but there would be no one on the other end. She'd make up terrible stories about me and tell them behind my back. I lost a few friends from it. She could be so convincing.”

Sylvia took a hefty swallow of the Cointreau. “And now we both go to Brookhaven. And nothing I have ever done to her can begin to compare to what she's done to me.” She pushed a dark tendril of hair away from her forehead. “No one knows about this except the other PLDs—and now you. I hate her, Hazel. I really,
really
do.”

“I don't blame you,” Hazel replied, taking Sylvia's hand. Then she thought of something.

“Sylvia,” she began. “I've been getting these weird phone calls…not the ones from you guys. They're different. Really scary. And when Breona saw my green carnation, she went totally insane. She called me a bitch and ran out of class.”