Pretty Little Devils (18 page)

By that time, the others were there. Sylvia looked from Hazel to Matty and back again; she reached across the table to squeeze Hazel's fingertips as she sat down.

“You're okay, Haze. You're fine. We're here.”

Ellen said sweetly, “You need a spoon. I'll get you one.”

Hazel thanked her. When she looked back at the window, she saw that Matty was gone.

 

Lunch ended; she swam through the day. The classrooms were steamy and smelly from the damp weather, chemistry lab failed to engage her, and she blew off Lakshmi's attempts to be friendly without even realizing that she was doing it.

The rain poured down all afternoon. Parts of the school roof began to leak. Buckets sat in corners, and the steady
drip-drip-drip
got on Hazel's nerves.

It wasn't until she was halfway to her car at the end of last period that she realized she had left her makeup bag in the gym bathroom. She hung a U, sighing as she shouldered past the crowds headed the other way.

Watery overhead lights illuminated the gunmetal gray lockers and cement floors of the girls' locker room. The class of 2002 had painted a mural of ancient Greek Amazons carrying shields, spears, and swords on the far wall. Still, the gym was dreary and dark, just like the day. The Amazon figures seemed shadowed and ghostly.

She walked along the first row of lockers, bisected down the middle by long wooden benches. She scanned for her bag, hoping no one had taken it. She had just gotten a ton of new Hard Candy makeup.

There it is.
She saw it lying at the far end of the bench, beneath an Amazon carrying a spear. She smiled, and her face felt like it was cracking; she hadn't smiled all day.

She picked up the bag, unzipping it to see if everything was there. The reassuring shapes and smells were a source of comfort.

There was a sort of buzz.

And the room fell dark.

Oh, great.

Hazel stood where she was, waiting for the lights to blink back on again. It was probably just a janitor flicking the wrong switch—or a temporary short. While she waited, she felt in her bag. Lipstick, blush, her little jar of sparkles for her cheeks. Eye shadow, mascara…

The lights didn't go back on.

“Hello?” Hazel called.

No one answered.

“Um, hello?”

Footsteps echoed toward her from the end of the room. “Over he—” she began, and then she clamped her mouth shut.

Stalker. Murderer.

A wave of panic shot through her; she inhaled slowly and tried to think what to do.

More footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.

Cold fingers tiptoed up her spine. Goose bumps broke out across her body; her hair stood on end.

She took a step backward, trying to remember the layout of the locker room. How many times had she been in here, how many hundreds of times?

Step. Step.
Closer.

Hazel moved faster. She backpedaled—and slammed against a locker.

The noise echoed in the frigid silence.

Oh my God. He knows exactly where I am
.

She clenched the makeup bag with all her might. The blood was roaring in her ears. Her heartbeat pounded in double time.

Closer now.

She held her breath.

Someone knocked against the wooden bench at the far end of her row. They were maybe twenty feet away from her. If they ran at her with a weapon…would she be able to get away?

Lakshmi had said the cop who found Breona threw up….

She had never been more terrified.
This is really happening. Someone is in here and they're stalking me.

She tried to swallow, but she couldn't. She heard herself whimper.

Then there was a clatter of footsteps, moving away from her.

A few seconds later, the lights came on.

“Who's in here?” It was Coach Hart, with her familiar short hair, little gold earrings, and Brookhaven sweatshirt.

“Oh God,” Hazel said in a rush. She hurried toward the coach. “Someone was here, someone was creeping around—”

“I'm here now,” the coach said. “Don't worry, Hazel. I'll have a look around—”

They walked together, exploring the locker room in silence, until the coach said, “You probably just heard me, coming to see why the lights were out.”

“But who turned them off?” Hazel asked.

“Faulty wiring. It happens all the time when it rains. Or when the wind blows. Or when the sun shines,” the coach replied, with a wry expression. “But I'll contact the police, just in case.”

She walked Hazel to the exit, opened the double doors, and stopped, watching the rain. “Hold on,” she said.

She ran back to her office and returned with an umbrella. It was yellow with pink polka dots—ironically cheerful.

“Bring it back tomorrow,” the woman ordered.

“Thank you,” Hazel said.

“Sure.” Coach Hart headed back toward the lounge. Hazel opened the umbrella and walked into the rain. She looked left, right, and saw a cluster of drama kids in black clothes as they headed for the media center theater.

Feeling very alone, Hazel half walked, half ran to her car.

“W
hat is
this
?” Sylvia shrieked.

Hazel had just come from her locker to get her chemistry lab workbook. She hadn't slept well again.

And now…disaster.

Sylvia had one hand wrapped around Lakshmi's arm. The other one clutched the purple scrunchie Hazel had given her.

“I found it,” Lakshmi said miserably. But it was clear even to Hazel that she was lying.

“You stole it!” Sylvia shrieked.

“No!” Lakshmi said.

It was a bizarre redux of Breona and the carnation. Hazel was aware of people stopping, watching. Eyes widened, mouths broadened into eager smiles.

A strange thought crept into Hazel's head: was
Breona
the crazy one in the cheerleader-PLD dynamic? Or was it someone else?

“It's just a scrunchie,” Lakshmi said.

“Oh, don't even pretend with me.” Sylvia sneered. “I know you'd sell your soul to have one of these.”

“Leave her alone,” Hazel spoke up. “It's not her fault. I gave it to her.”

“You what?” Sylvia stared at Hazel. She shook the scrunchie in her face. “Doesn't this mean anything to you? Don't you know who your friends are?”

Hazel stood there, silent. Sylvia threw the scrunchie down, turned on her heel, and walked away.

 

At midday, Hazel trudged across the quad. From the corner of her eye, she caught Sylvia approaching with Megan and Carolyn in tow. Hazel braced herself for another onslaught, but Sylvia's expression was kind.

“We need to talk,” she said softly. “Come on.”

They walked past administration to the ROTC building.

“Listen. I'm sorry for before. We're all going crazy with everything that's happened,” Sylvia said as they turned a corner. “But what I meant to say was—”

“What the—” Megan stopped short, and everyone followed her gaze.

Brandon was dead ahead, standing with his thumbs in the loops of his jeans.

He was talking to Ellen.

They were both smiling. And standing very close together.

Sylvia marched up to the two of them, her pale, perfect complexion growing red. “Brandon! What the hell do you think you're doing? Why don't you give it up? Ellen has had it with you.”

Brandon looked from Sylvia to Ellen.

“Um, Sylvia is right,” Ellen said, staring at the ground. “We're through. So go away.”

Brandon reached out a hand. “Ellen, you don't have to do this. Why don't you just tell them the truth?”

Ellen looked shocked; she glanced over at Sylvia.

“Tell them,” Brandon urged. He whirled to face the PLDs. “We've been dating for weeks. She's been keeping it a secret because you're all completely messed up!”

“Get the hell away from her!” Megan said, taking Ellen's arm. “She doesn't want you!”

“I swear to God, Megan. You'd better let her go.” Brandon's voice shook with fury. He glared at each one of the PLDs in turn, his gaze finally resting on Sylvia. “You are so manipulative. So insane. Why can't you just leave us alone?”

“Because you don't deserve her. Because you're just like your friend, Stephan,” Megan argued.

“That's not true! I—”

“Enough,” Sylvia said in her most composed tone. “Megan, Brandon's right.”

“What?” Megan asked, wide-eyed.

“It's not my business. I'm washing my hands of this entirely.” She regarded Brandon and Ellen coolly. “You two do whatever you want. I won't interfere.”

Ellen's face lit up. “Oh my God. Really? Are you serious?”

Sylvia nodded. “I'm serious. If you want him, Ellen, go for it. You two deserve each other.”

“Sly,” Ellen whispered, her voice full of emotion, “thank you.”

“No problem.” Sylvia turned to the rest of the group and motioned for them to follow her. Hazel fell into step next to her and heard her mutter, “No problem at all. Just don't come running to me when this whole thing turns into a car wreck.”

 

Hazel got in her car and drove. So much was happening—so many thoughts swirling through her head. She couldn't go home. Not yet.

She cruised down the streets of Brookhaven, through downtown and past Avenida Escondida. All the while, she wondered about Sylvia. There were times when she seemed like two people at once—the one who cared for her friends and did her best to protect them and the other Sylvia, the one who manipulated everyone for her own gain and amusement.

Which was the real one? Hazel wondered. Which was the stronger one? Which one would win out in the end?

This afternoon—with Ellen. Was it a victory for the caring Sylvia? Or was it another manipulation? One the rest of the PLDs had yet to figure out?

Hazel hoped it was the former—for Ellen's sake.

She drove back around the avenue and looped toward the park.

The park—where two police cars had pulled in and left their lights flashing. Where three cops were standing in a loose semicircle around a tree.

A tall policeman had someone pushed up against the tree and was forcing him to stand still while a gray-haired officer patted him down….

Matty, Hazel realized.

The gray-haired cop cuffed him. Then the other policeman walked him over to one of the police cars and opened up the back.

“Oh my God,” Hazel said. “They're arresting him!”

A week had passed and Hazel hadn't heard a word from Matty. She knew that he probably couldn't call her. That he was waiting for her to contact him somehow, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She just didn't know what to think.

Her heart told her that Matty couldn't be the killer. He couldn't. But there was his file—and there was the arrest. It didn't help that along with the police, the rest of the PLDs were convinced that her boyfriend was a murderer.

This morning, as Ellen had done for all the days since Matty's arrest, she picked Hazel up and they drove to school together. The town Christmas decorations were going up—holly and bells mounted on the streetlights.

“The Winterfest dance is coming,” Ellen said. “I can't believe I'm actually going with Brandon.”

“Yeah,” Hazel muttered. She stared vacantly out the window. “That's great.”

“Oh, Haze!” Ellen stopped short. “I didn't mean—”

“It's okay,” Hazel reassured her.

Inside, she couldn't help but hurt.

Just a few weeks ago, she was at homecoming with Matty. Just a few weeks ago, she was falling in love. How could it all have changed so quickly?

 

“So guys—no calls, no wacky e-mails, no text messages for the past week and a half.” Sylvia stabbed a sliver of lettuce. “The same amount of time Matty has been in custody. I think the police got their man.”

“I think we're lucky he didn't hack any of us up,” Megan muttered.

“So,” Sylvia said cheerfully, “it looks like things will blow over just in time for my birthday party.”

Hazel knew Sylvia's party was the next big event on the PLDs' social calendar, but she just couldn't find it within her to care. Things were getting back to normal at the speed of light. At least, that was how it seemed. Meanwhile she was stuck. Frozen by what had happened. Beyond devastated.

Sylvia had noticed and had been especially nice to Hazel since Matty's arrest. Hazel was excused from sitting but got a share of the money anyway. Sylvia took her to the movies. And for pedicures. The PLDs played poker and Hazel was pretty sure Sylvia let her win.

Still, Hazel knew it would take a lot of time to get her back to her old self. Could there be a worse way to break up?

They planned Sylvia's birthday party. It was going to be catered by the same chichi company the Duvaliers used. Everything that could be purple would be purple.

As Sylvia kept reminding everyone, it was going to be amazing.

“Hey, sexy ladies,” Josh greeted the table. Brandon approached with him.

“Hi,” Ellen chirped.

“Got some sugar for Monkey Boy?” Brandon asked. He stood behind Ellen and threw his arms around her.

Hazel noted Ellen's expression. It was pure bliss.
I guess she really doesn't care about his past with Sylvia,
Hazel thought.

Megan and Carolyn snickered, as if Ellen's happiness were somehow uncool.

Mercifully, Ellen didn't notice. She pushed back her chair. “That pudding looks good,” she said, pointing to Megan's bowl. “Come on, Monkey Boy. Let's get some.”

“You can have some of mine,” Megan offered, lifting the bowl off the table.

“No, it's okay.” Ellen giggled. Brandon grabbed her around the waist. He tucked her under his arm and hooted like a baboon. “We'll get our own.”

Brandon carried Ellen away to the serving area.

Sylvia regarded them coldly. She gave Josh's hand a pat. “I'm so glad my boyfriend has class.”

“Hey,” Josh joked. “I could be up for a little walk on the wild side.”

Sylvia smiled seductively. “Patience, Josh.” She planted a long, passionate kiss on his lips. “Now go away. We have business to discuss.”

“Okay,” Josh said, giving Sylvia another kiss. “Au revoir.”

He took off.

Sylvia glanced toward the cafeteria line. Hazel followed her gaze.

Ellen and Brandon were fooling around near the fruit bowl—Ellen pretending to offer her Monkey Boy a banana.

Even Hazel couldn't help but smile a bit at the sight.

Sylvia leaned in closer. “So, Haze. Now that everything has calmed down for a while, we've decided to do one last prank.”

“The four of us,” Carolyn clarified. “Because it's so good—”

“And because it's
symbolic
,” Megan cut in.

Sylvia nodded. “One last prank says we refuse to let everything that's happened this year get the better of us. We are still strong. We are still the PLDs.”

“And,” Carolyn added, “it is really, really good.”

“It's going to be our grand finale, and then we're done,” Sylvia concluded.

“You think that's a good idea?” Hazel asked. “I mean, doesn't it still seem wrong?”

“Here comes Ellen,” Sylvia said, ignoring Hazel. “Tonight we'll finalize the plan.” She smiled as Ellen returned to the table, carrying her pudding and grinning naively.