Bad Girls Don't Die (18 page)

I was scared out of my mind and trying to keep her talking, keep her with me.

“Don’t worry, Lexi, I haven’t made up my mind yet. I have until midnight tomorrow.”

“Kasey, I promise I will be your best friend, I will do whatever you want—”

“That’s not friendship,” she said, her mouth pulled into a tight frown. “Friendship isn’t just about doing what the other person says.”

Oh, sure,
now
she finds a backbone. “But isn’t she telling you what to do?”

She shook her head vigorously. “Not all the time. Sometimes she listens to my ideas.”

I really didn’t want to know, but I had to ask. “The thing with the car . . . whose idea was that?”

Her blue eyes narrowed and there was a hard glint in them. “I told you, she cut the brakes . . . but it was my idea to talk to the police.”

That was a good sign, right? That meant Kasey still cared, on some level.

“Lexi, I’m not asking for your permission. I’m not even asking for your opinion.”

Clearly not.

“I just thought you deserved an explanation.”

“Kase, what if we talked to Mom about this?”

“Don’t.”

“But Mom and Dad probably wouldn’t want you to—”

“No.”

Tears splashed onto my cheeks. “What am I supposed to do?”

She cocked her head to the side. “Live your life, Alexis.” Her eyes suddenly flashed from blue to green, a vivid emerald that seemed to burn right into me. “Your pathetic, lonely life.”

Then she grabbed her schoolbag and walked out, leaving me alone on the floor.

The front door slammed shut, and I collapsed, laying my head down on the carpet, crying tears of rage and fear and helplessness.

After a few minutes of intense self-pity, I forced myself to stand. I grabbed my sweatshirt and my house key and stumbled down the stairs, ignoring the sharp ache where my shoulder blade had made contact with the edge of Kasey’s dresser.

The afternoon sun was blinding after the muted light of our dark house. I stepped out onto the front porch and looked around for my sister.

Midnight tomorrow . . .

As my eyes adjusted and the world faded into view again, my heart sank.

She was long gone.

There was only one option left.

I had to find Megan.

T
HE FOOTBALL FIELD WAS EMPTY
when I arrived back at the school, and something inside of me deflated. All my courage had been used up during my confrontation with Kasey, and now I was alone.

And scared.

I sat down on the lowest bleacher and stared at my hands.
Keep going
, said the voice in my head.
Go to her house. Find her.

But I just couldn’t. The longer I sat there, the more powerless I felt. Possessed or not, Kasey had almost killed our dad. With every passing minute she fell deeper under the power of whatever it was that was controlling her.

I heard chattering female voices and knew it was my last chance to get out of there before I was in it for real. I would have to face Megan, take whatever she dished out, and then grovel for her help—possibly in front of the entire Surrey High School cheer squad.

Did I have a choice? I could go home, break into the emergency cash jar, put some clothes in a backpack, and hit the road. Run away and leave the whole mess behind me. There would be plenty of room on the open road for new, smaller messes.

But it was too late to run away.

“What’s
she
doing here?” I recognized Pepper Laird’s voice, and the talking stopped short.

I looked up.

There they stood, toned, tanned, and all set to do high kicks and catchy chants. One thing was wrong with the picture, and I was it. If looks could kill, I would have been a charred pile of ex-Alexis on the bleacher seat.

Like a swan gliding through lily pads, Megan sailed to the front of the pack and stared down at me. Her eyes were cool, emotionless. They had none of the passion that I’d seen in them earlier when she’d offered her help. I’d waited too long.

“Don’t worry, Megan, we’ll get rid of her,” Pepper said.

“I’m calling security!” someone else said. Four cell phones flipped open.

But Megan simply looked at me. And I looked at her.

Five seconds passed. Ten. No one said a word.

Finally Megan took a deep breath.

“Pepper,” she said, “please start the warm-up without me.”

Pepper stared in confusion for a moment and then obediently clapped her hands together three times. “All right!” she called. “Two laps, let’s go!”

And the cheerleaders, Pepper included, took off in two neat lines down the track.

Megan stayed. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and watched me.

It sounds silly to say, but seeing her standing there, I completely understood why she was so popular. There was something about her that was regal, composed. She was one of those people who never let you see them sweat. I had a vision of throwing myself at her feet, begging her forgiveness.

That was probably what it would take.

I stood up.

“I told you it would get bad,” she said.

Fair enough. “Megan, I’m sorry—”

“No, Alexis. Don’t apologize.”

I closed my mouth.

“I get why you hate us. What they did to Beth Goldberg sucked, okay? But if we’re going to do this together, you have to trust me.”

I shook my head in confusion, but Megan mistook it for a rejection.

“I never said anything, because it sounds like I’m making excuses. But I was in Ireland with my grandmother when they put that presentation together. I wouldn’t have let them do it.” She swallowed hard. “I swear, Alexis, on my mom’s grave.”

I did
not
want to talk about graves and mothers.

“You don’t have to forgive me, but you have to believe me. That I’m not messing with you.” She had her arms folded in front of her, hands gripping her elbows.

It was the first time I’d ever seen her look . . . not perfect. Not in control.

I believed her.

“Something horrible is going on with my sister,” I said. “And I’m not a hundred percent sure, but there’s a chance . . . you’re right. Or she might just be completely psycho.”

“Pyscho how?”

“Like hearing voices,” I said. “Multiple personalities. Doing crazy stuff. Only . . .”

She waited for me to finish.

“Only . . . superstrength isn’t really a symptom of a mental disorder, is it?”

Megan shook her head. “Sorry to disappoint you, but no.”

My head started to ache. “And, like . . . amazing powers of persuasion . . .”

She reached out and put her hand on my arm. “Trust your instinct, Alexis.”

I swallowed hard, looking at her perfectly polished red fingernails.

Her voice was gentle. “What do you really think?”

What did I think? “I think . . . she’s possessed.”

“I’ll help you,” Megan said immediately.

She grabbed my arm and started toward the parking lot.

“I want to know everything that’s happened,” she said. “And we need to go to your house. Whatever it is, it’s probably there.”

I looked up at the squad, almost done with their first lap. “Don’t you have to tell someone you’re leaving?”

“They’re smart girls,” she said, not stopping. “They’ll figure it out.”

A sarcastic reply made it all the way to the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it right before it slipped out. I grabbed my sweatshirt and hurried to catch up.

“So what happened?” Megan asked.

“She cut the brake wires in my mom’s car,” I said. Might as well lay all the cards on the table. “She was going to frame me for it, but somehow she convinced the police it was an accident. And she has some weird plan. She said something about midnight tomorrow.”

Megan led me to an ivory VW New Beetle. She was the only sophomore I knew who had her own car.

I glanced back at the entrance to the school. The double door began to open.

Carter walked out.

“Hold on,” I said.

Carter saw us, did a double take, then waved and headed straight over. “Where’ve you been?” he asked.

In spite of everything, I couldn’t keep a tiny smile off my lips.

Carter glanced at Megan questioningly, but didn’t ask. Instead he lowered his voice and looked right into my eyes. “Is everything okay?”

I shook my head.

“I’m sorry,” he said, touching my wrist lightly. The brush of his fingers against my arm would have made me melt in my shoes if Megan hadn’t been staring at us impatiently.

“You guys are going to have to do this later,” she said, flipping her cell phone open to check the time. “Alexis and I have things to do.”

Carter looked bewildered. “Where are you going? I’ll come.”

“No, you can’t,” I said, pulling my wrist away from him.

“You really can’t,” Megan said, turning toward the car. “Sorry. Come on, Alexis, let’s go.”

There wasn’t time to explain the whole situation. My heart ached—I longed to be wrapped in his arms again, pour out my troubles, make everything feel okay, even if it wasn’t.

“Call me,” Carter said, reluctantly taking a half step back.

“I will,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Get in,” Megan ordered from the driver’s seat. I sat down in the passenger seat and let my bag slip to the floor as Carter walked away.

I guess I sighed kind of melodramatically or something, because Megan gave me a sideways eye roll as she backed out of the parking space. I noticed how delicately her slender hands moved the gearshift, the way her fingers grasped the steering wheel, and I felt like a clumsy, galumphing oaf. As we drove away from the school, I glanced back to see Carter’s car pull out of the parking lot and turn in the other direction.

“How long have you two been . . . ?” Megan said.

“What? We’re not. Nothing’s going on.”

“The way he was looking at you . . . that’s definitely something.”

“I guess Pepper thinks so too,” I couldn’t help saying.

“Pepper? She likes him, but he doesn’t seem to be into her.”

“She came to my locker and had a talk with me.”

“What did she say?”

I recalled the dejected look on Carter’s face, and Pepper’s words came back to me. Already I was bringing him down, hurting his feelings, leaving him on his own. “Nothing.”

“Right,” Megan said. “Because Pepper’s famous for saying nothing.”

I didn’t respond.

“Now tell me everything,” she said. “How long has the weird stuff been happening?”

“Since Tuesday night,” I said.

“And is it just your sister?”

Interesting question. Dad was safely tucked away in the hospital—well, perhaps “safely” wasn’t the right word. And Mom? Sure, she was distant and detached, but that was just Mom being Mom.

“Yeah, just Kasey,” I said.

“Now skip to the part about me.”

I’ll spare you the gory details, but it wasn’t long into my little story that Megan had to pull the car over to the side of the road so she could devote all of her attention to staring at me in indignant disbelief.

When I reached the part about Kasey showing up at school that morning, I hesitated. Megan was glaring at me so fiercely that I couldn’t concentrate.

“If I’d known this was going to happen, I never would have—”

She raised a finger in the air and closed her eyes. I took it as a very clear way of saying,
Leave me alone for a minute or I will push you out of my car
.

A few seconds and some deep breaths later, she spoke. “Okay, Alexis,” she began, “I’m not going to pretend I’m happy about being cast as an evil villain in your stupid little fairy tale.”

“Megan, I didn’t know—”

“Quiet,” she said. “Let’s just put the past behind us and not worry about it.” She exhaled. “For
now
.”

She put the car in drive and pulled back onto the road, shaking her head.

“Well . . . it’s convenient,” I said at last.

“What is?”

“If it had been about somebody who didn’t believe in ghosts . . .” I said, but I didn’t know how to finish. A sour, empty ache growled to life in my stomach. My arms felt weak, and I closed my eyes.

“So . . . what changed your mind? Why did you suddenly decide you needed my help?”

“Oh God,” I said. I hadn’t even talked about what had happened at the house, Kasey’s evil hoodoo.

So I told her. As the story went on, I felt more and more ridiculous. My thirteen-year-old sister cops an attitude and I run for cover.

I waited to hear what Megan would say.

“Tomorrow at midnight . . . What’s Friday? Is it an important date—her birthday or something?”

“No.”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel. “It’s cool that you kept her talking. You never know what she might have done otherwise.”

I hadn’t thought about it that way. The weak place in me felt a little stronger.

For the first time since we’d gotten in the car, I wondered where we were going. We were driving past the new developments where houses as big as museums were being constructed on lots so small that they hardly had space for a front or backyard. (Dad makes faces and calls them McMansions. Mom keeps quiet, which I assume means she wouldn’t mind living in one someday.)