Pretty Little Devils (20 page)

“Hazel?” Ms. Carpentier repeated.

Keep it together,
she coached herself. Heads turned as she slid off her stool and walked as steadily as she could to Ms. Carpentier's desk.

“Would you come into the hall with me, please?” Mr. Clancy requested. “We have some important questions to ask.”

Hazel looked down nervously at her hands, following the vice principal out of the lab.

 

After the interrogation, Hazel walked in a daze to her car.

There was a note stuck under the windshield wiper blades. Hazel unfolded it and read it.
CALL
!!
S
.

She pulled her cell phone out of her backpack and held it in her hand for a moment. Then she dialed Sylvia.

Sylvia answered on the first ring. “Where are you? Where'd you go? Why didn't you answer your phone? Lakshmi said they sent you to the office.”

Hazel said, “Detective Fullerton was there.”

“What?”

“She asked me what time I was with Matty on the night of the homecoming dance.”

“And that's all?”

“That's all,” Hazel confirmed.

“But she can't do that. She can't question you without your parents' permission.”

“No. She can if it's not going to incriminate me. I'm not suspected of anything.”

“She didn't ask you anything about Brandon? Didn't hint…?”

“No. Just Matty.”

Hazel felt dizzy. She had been surprised. The detective's questions had turned out to be so harmless.

“You should have refused to answer any questions without your parents,” Sylvia chided her. “They might take what you said and twist it around. Breona went off on you at the dance. They might say you have a motive.”

“What?”
Hazel's heart pounded against her ribs. “What are you saying?”

“Just that what they
tell
you they want to know and what they're looking for may be two very different things.”

“Oh God.”

“So next time, tell them no,” Sylvia said. “We have to stick together. Come over after school. People are here to decorate for the party.”

Hazel couldn't believe she was serious. “Sylvia, I have to go home,” she said. “I'm freaking out.”

“You really should be with us.” Sylvia's voice was kind. “Do what you think is best. But
don't
talk to them anymore.”

Hazel drove home and crawled into bed. She lay huddled under her blankets. Eventually she began to doze and dreamed of…

…absolutely nothing.

She woke up in the dark to her computer beeping. Someone was sending her an instant message. She got up, feeling stiff all over, and shuffled to the keyboard. The time readout was nearly 9 p.m.

It was Matty. Sucking in her breath, she accepted his message.

Hazel clicked on the link.

Hazel waited at the window. Matty's PT Cruiser rolled up thirty minutes later.

She peeked out in the hall. Corey was in his room and her parents were in theirs. Their TV was on. The house was dark.

Her heart pounding, she snuck down the hall and out the door.

She opened the passenger-side door and was greeted by Matty's familiar smile. She got in. Just the sight of him made Hazel want to throw her arms around him. Instead, she held herself in check. After all they had been through, would he still want her?

“Matty, I'm so sorry,” she blurted. “I should have just gone to the cops sooner. I should have tried to clear your name.”

But Matty cut her off, pulling her into a tight embrace. “It's okay,” he whispered.

Hazel hugged him back. She felt tears welling in her eyes.

“I—I should have believed you,” she cried. “I know that now. But you lost your temper and Sylvia…she showed me your restraining order—”

“Restraining order?” He held her at arm's length, regarding her suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

“In Virginia,” she said slowly. “Your girlfriend…You had a counselor who said you were violent and aggressive….”

She trailed off, silenced by the look of shock on his face.

“Hazel, no one had a restraining order against me. I never saw a counselor in Virginia.”

“But it was in your permanent record. Online.”

He stared at her. “And you read this…when?”

“Sylvia. She hacked in.” Hazel stared at the floorboards, ashamed. “After they arrested you that first time, she showed me the file. That was why I was scared of you.”

“Oh God.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. “Sylvia has been messing with you, Haze. With
us
.”

She shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“Show it to me,” Matty insisted.

Together Hazel and Matty tiptoed upstairs to Hazel's room.

She logged on to her e-mail, found the message from Sylvia, and clicked on the link.

A message flashed on the screen: access denied.

“Sylvia hacked in and made up a fake file,” Matty insisted.

“But why?” Hazel wondered aloud.

In her head, she knew the answer.
To have control over me.

But was there more? Megan had mentioned that the PLDs were separated during the time of Breona's murder—and that Sylvia was late in meeting them afterward.

Was Sylvia trying to put suspicion on someone else after Breona's death?

Tell him,
she urged herself.
Tell him all of it.

“It's all right, Haze. I'm here now.” He kissed her again. And again. “It's all right.”

But it wasn't all right. Everything was a mess.

After Matty left, Hazel knocked on her parents' door.

The sound on the TV went down, and she poked her head into their bedroom.

“I'm going over to Sylvia's,” she said. “I put the number on the breakfast bar.”

“It's ten o'clock. Isn't that kind of late?” her father asked.

Hazel shook her head. “I'll be back by midnight. I promise.”

“Call us when you get there. Be careful. Lock your doors,” her mom ordered her.

“I will,” she told them both.

And I won't come back without my questions answered.

H
azel clutched the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. She sped toward Sylvia's. Sylvia couldn't get away with this.

Hazel pulled up to the curb and stared at Sylvia's house. It was a huge Tudor mansion with a high wall and rosebushes lining the façade.

Before Hazel could pull open the driver's-side door, she heard music blaring from Sylvia's house. There was a glut of cars parked along the sidewalk. Hazel strode up the stairs and through the front door with determination.

There was a crowd blocking the foyer, and it carried through to the living room. Hazel didn't say a word to anyone. She stormed through the kitchen and out to the backyard.

Stephan Nylund had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was babbling to a group gathered around him.

“Yo, someone saw Brandon in LA,” he slurred. “He's just hanging out there. Living like a rock star. Getting all kinds of booty.”

Hazel pushed past and glared at him with disgust.

Farther on, she saw Megan and Ellen sitting together. Ellen was cradling a drink and swaying unsteadily.

Hazel marched up to them.

“Haze,” Ellen slurred. Her eyes were glazed.

Megan regarded Hazel cautiously. “Where have you been?”

“Megan, we have a problem,” Hazel began.

“What is it?”

“It's Sylvia. I found out something tonight. Something really important. I think she faked a file after Breona's murder to—” Hazel stopped short. Sylvia voice blared from inside the house.

“This is not funny! Who did this? Who did it?”

Hazel strode back into the house, following the sound.

The large room connected to the parlor was cast in darkness. A handful of kids were grouped around the television set; on the screen was a bird's-eye view of trees shimmering in a night wind, and children were singing an eerie chorus as an orchestra played a frightening counterpoint.

Sylvia's silhouette blacked out the images as she punched the player open and yanked out the DVD.

“Hey, that was
Diabolique
!” a guy curled on the couch pointed out.

“I know what it is!” she yelled. “I want to know who put it in there!”

No one spoke.

Sylvia charged out of the room with the DVD in her hand.

“What the hell is her problem?” someone muttered.

“All she does is talk about that damn movie,” another one said.

Carolyn came up behind Hazel; she gestured for her to follow. They walked out the back door together, through the noise and laughter. Carolyn drew Hazel aside and said, “Sylvia is seriously losing it.”

“I know,” Hazel said. “And I think I know why. It's guilt. She faked school files about a restraining order out on Matty.”

Carolyn smirked. “I'm not surprised. She's a total hacker, you know.”

“She is?”

“Didn't you know? She can hack anything.”

Hazel's mind whirled. The text messages from an unknown address, the e-mails from the same address. The altered voice on the phone. Breona, who she hated, dead.

Brandon, who scorned her in favor of Ellen, also dead.

She grabbed Carolyn's arm. “Can we talk?”

Carolyn nodded. “Sure.”

“Good. Come with me. And don't tell Sylvia a thing.”

 

They gathered in one of the guest bedrooms in Sylvia's immense mansion. Ellen was nervously twisting a lock of hair around her fingers and rubbing her eyes.

“I can't believe she's doing this,” Ellen said hysterically. “I can't believe there's a party going on after everything that's happened. How can she be so cold?” she demanded, tears flowing from her eyes. Megan and Carolyn put their arms around her, trying to hush her.

“That's why I wanted to talk to you guys,” Hazel said. “We're not going to let her get away with this.”

Ellen wiped her tears away and looked up at Hazel. “What do you mean?”

Hazel knew it was time. The others might not like what she had to say, but they had to get to the bottom of all of this. She couldn't stand another moment of guilt—another second of uncertainty.

She took a deep breath.

“I need you all to think back to the days after Breona's murder. Remember what you said to me in the cafeteria? About the night of homecoming? The night that Breona died? Megan said Sylvia was missing for a while that night.”

“I did,” Megan answered slowly. “So?”

“So Matty's been let go by the police,” Hazel explained. “He's cleared of the murder. It couldn't be him, because he was with me when Breona died. That means someone else killed her.”

“Wait—Sylvia was MIA for a few minutes and you automatically think she did it?” Carolyn argued.

“No, there's more. Right after the murder, when the police were asking questions, Sylvia showed me a file from Matty's permanent record. It said he had violent tendencies—and it was completely fake.”

“So you think Sylvia faked it,” Ellen filled in.

Hazel nodded. “She saw Matty's blowup on the field, and it gave her an idea—a chance to divert suspicion…from herself.”

The others were silent.

“She was the only person in school with a real reason to want Breona dead,” Hazel told them. “Sylvia and Breona may have had bad blood for years, but when Breona tried to steal Josh over the summer—”

“Sylvia lost control of her boyfriend for a few months, and she couldn't stand it,” Megan chimed in quietly.

Hazel nodded. “She wants to control everyone around her. She needs it. You all know that. She tried to control us too. She couldn't stand the thought that Breona broke her little spell. And that's why she killed her.”

“Wait,” Carolyn interrupted. “Even if that's true, why would she arrange for Brandon to be there the night of our prank?”

“Because he wanted me instead of her,” Ellen said in a low voice. “She couldn't stand the thought of Brandon choosing to be with the lamest PLD over her—the queen bee.”

Carolyn and Megan shared a look of surprise. Ellen kept her head down, studying her massacred nails.

“Ellen, you
knew
that they used to fool around?” Megan said incredulously. Ellen looked up at Hazel and gave a small, sad nod.

The girls were silent for a while. Finally Hazel said quietly, “We need to go to the police.”

“What?” Carolyn countered. “No, we can't!”

“We have to,” Hazel argued. “Think of Brandon's parents.”

“Think of
yours
,” Megan replied. “Think of all our parents. When they hear that we killed someone—”

“But we
didn't
kill someone,” Ellen pointed out. “Sylvia is responsible for all of this. If we tell the police about it,
she'll
be the one to go to jail.
She'll
be the one they blame.”

“Besides, do you want to carry this secret around for the rest of your life?” Hazel asked.

Carolyn shook her head. So did Megan

They knew they couldn't get away with it. Not forever.

“Okay,” Megan finally agreed. Carolyn nodded. “We'll go.”

Hazel didn't sleep at all that night. They had decided to meet early—before school, by the big rock behind the media center where the drama clique hung out. They'd go in and talk to Mr. Clancy and Detective Fullerton as a group.

Hazel rose from her bed more times than she could count—to go to the bathroom, to splash water on her face, and to wander down the hall to stand in front of her parents' room, her hand poised to knock.

She didn't knock, but she looked in on her brother. His room smelled like rotten food. Game cartridges and DVDs were strewn all over the floor. She saw him in his bed, wrapped up in his covers, snoring.

She almost woke him but decided not to.

The hours dragged by; she was swaying on her feet. Sheer adrenaline was keeping her awake. She tried to distract herself by deciding what to wear.

By six she was ready to go. She paced her room, exhausted and hungry. Her family was stirring; her dad usually got up first, to make coffee. She heard him pad down the hall. She stayed in her room because if she didn't, she would probably tell him what was going on. She had told a lot of lies already. She would just rather not tell them all over again.

Then it was six-thirty, and then it was seven. Time to leave.

Hazel grabbed her keys, took a breath, and left the sanctuary of her room. She studied it for a moment—the purple bedspread with blue and green flowers, the matching curtains, the poster of Jude Law.

Will I ever see my room again?

She passed the kitchen. Her stout, balding father saw her and gave her a just-a-sec wave. “Hazel, do you mind very much lending Mom your car today? We had to take hers in yesterday.”

She blinked. “What? What happened?”

He smiled quizzically. “
Nothing happened
, Hazel. It just needed a tune-up.”

“Oh. Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

“Do you need a ride to school, or can you get one from a friend? You don't have to leave until eight, right?”

Hazel touched her forehead. “I can probably get a ride.”

“Right.” He chuckled. “Because getting a lift from your old man wouldn't be cool.”

Oh, Dad, you have no idea. “Cool” is the last thing on my mind.

She retreated to her room and called Ellen's cell.

There was no answer. She figured Ellen was talking to her father, trying to get out of the house. She rang Carolyn instead.

“I'll be there in fifteen minutes,” Carolyn said. “Meet me out front.”

 

“Well,” Hazel said with a sigh, “I guess this is it.” Carolyn had pulled into a spot in front of the school.

“I guess so,” Carolyn replied. They sat in silence, just staring at the empty school for a moment before grabbing their bags and getting out of the car.

“There's Megan,” Carolyn said as they came around the corner of the media center. Her back was turned to them, but they recognized her by her purple hoodie. She was leaning sideways against the rock, her head down.

“She looks upset,” Hazel whispered.

“We're all upset,” Carolyn replied.

“Megan,” Hazel called out. Megan didn't respond.

“You okay, honey?” Carolyn said softly as they approached. Megan didn't say a word.

“Hey, Meg?” Hazel reached out and put her hand on Megan's shoulder. Her friend collapsed under the weight, slumping onto the ground.

“Oh my God!” Carolyn screamed.

Hazel crouched down beside Megan. She turned her over.

A pair of blue eyes stared blankly up at Hazel.

Megan was dead.