The Diamonds (27 page)

•
EXHIBIT O
•

I couldn't believe my eyes. I quickly folded the packet and slipped it into my bag. That was when I noticed that every single locker in the senior-year wing had a packet wedged inside it, too. The hallway was filled with students devouring the reports.

Wrecking the fashion show was a good idea. I honestly thought so. But I suddenly wondered if it was
enough. Unfortunately, there was only one person I could appeal to for help, and there was the definite possibility that he was untrustworthy. Sometimes, though, you have to take a risk in order to succeed. A leap of faith.

I took a deep breath, letting my lungs expand with air.

Then I jumped.

Mr. Townsen's office was exactly as I'd remembered it. Too-neat desk, picture frames filled with smiles, the window overlooking the courtyard freshly scrubbed and slightly open.

I hadn't spoken to Townsen since I'd left the mock trial team. He was still my teacher, of course, but we never chatted outside of class.

Townsen smiled as if he were expecting me. “Marni. I'm so glad you stopped by. You know, when Clarissa told me what happened, I was very concerned. But I wanted to give you some space. I knew you would find me when the time was right.”

“I'm sorry, what did you say?”

“You would find me when the time was right,” he repeated.

“Before that.”

“I wanted to give you some space?”

“No, before that.”

Townsen paused to think. “When Clarissa told me what happened?”

“Yes,” I said. “What exactly did she tell you?”

“Have you spoken with Dr. Andrews?”

Fact: Dr. Andrews is the school psychologist. He has a black mustache and a gray beard, and he smells like a fish market.

I shook my head.

“Maybe you should, Marni,” Townsen suggested. “I had a cousin once who suffered from a mental breakdown, and talking to someone really helped her. She's an entirely different person now. And not in a schizophrenic way. In a good way.”

“Clarissa told you I had a mental breakdown?”

Mr. Townsen reached across his desk and gave my hand a quick pat. “It's nothing to be embarrassed about.”

“Uh, thanks,” I said, not even bothering to correct him. “But that isn't why I came to see you.”

“No?”

I took the packet out of my bag. “Have you seen this?”

“What about it?”

“You
have
to know what's been going on around here,” I said. “The way Clarissa took over the mock trial team and got Jed kicked out of student government, and then she started making these, well, these
laws
, and at first I thought it was harmless and I played along—okay, I
helped
her—but I didn't know what I was doing, and then she turned on me and now basically nobody likes me except for—well, that's not important, but still, Mr. Townsen, she's, like … a tyrant! It's like the Salem witch trials all over again, except
instead of killing people for being witches, she's killing them
socially
because she's worried she won't be elected Ice Queen, and she's throwing this fashion show and she doesn't even care about the trannies. You have to
do
something—”

“Marni.” Mr. Townsen placed his hands firmly on his desk. “That's enough, okay?”

A whoosh of air left my mouth like helium from a balloon. “I know you think it's the students’ responsibility to stand up to Clarissa, but you have no idea what she's like, Mr. Townsen. This time she's gone too far.”

“I've already spoken with Clarissa,” he said.

“You have?”

“She came to me as soon as she found one of these”—he motioned to the amendments—
“packets
in her locker. She was very upset and asserted that neither she, Lili, nor Priya had anything to do with their creation.”

I sat back in my chair. What game was Clarissa trying to play?

“That's ridiculous,” I said. “Their
names
are on it. She is
taking over the school
right under your nose!” I clenched the packet in my fist. “Most kids at this school will do
whatever
Clarissa says. She's ruining people's lives, Mr. Townsen, she's—”

“With all due respect, Marni,” said Mr. Townsen, “it's just as plausible that
you
authored the packet, isn't it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Clarissa told me about how you reinterpreted the
Bill of Rights. Why should I believe that Clarissa wrote these rules when she told me that
you
wrote them to get her in trouble?”

“But I didn't!”

Townsen gave me a sly grin. “Do you have any evidence?”

Evidence. I hadn't been able to convince Principal Newman without any, and now Mr. Townsen was saying the same thing.

“No,” I admitted. “I don't.”

Townsen rested both hands on his desk. “Clarissa, Priya, and Lili have been doing a fantastic job with the mock trial team. There is less fighting and cheating than ever before at Bennington. Your role was pivotal in the team's gaining momentum.”

How could I forget?

“You're a smart, talented girl, Marni, with a bright future. Don't mess it up over a fight with your friends. If you feel so strongly that the mock trial team is no longer providing justice to Bennington, then you should try to shut the court down.”

“But that's why I'm here!”

“I can't do it
for
you, Marni,” Mr. Townsen said. “I strongly believe in letting students correct their own mistakes. Maybe Clarissa is right and you're wrong. Maybe not. But if you
are
right, you'll need the support of the student body behind you. No one is going to swoop in and save you except for you. And maybe Superman, but I wouldn't count on it.” He smiled. “Instead of complaining to me, or Principal Newman,
take charge and
convince
the other students of your claims. Gain their trust. Deliver them the truth; that's how you'll emerge victorious.”

How could I make Mr. Townsen believe that despite his best (deluded) intentions, he was allowing the Diamonds to get away with murder? (Or if not murder, something practically as horrific.)

The answer was: I couldn't. At least, not without proof. And the Stonecutters.

After I left Townsen's office, I did something I really shouldn't have done.

I broke into Clarissa's locker.

(Give me a break. You would have done it, too.)

The Stonecutters needed evidence, and I wasn't going to sit around in Boyd's car, listening to musicals and waiting for proof to fall into my lap, any longer. I was going to
take
it.

After checking that the hallway was clear, I made my move. The Diamonds were near the end of a trial
(Bennington v. Stephanie Jones
, who was accused of smelling like a Chinese buffet and stinking up the hallway); I had a narrow time frame.

Clarissa hadn't changed her combination. I twisted the lock and popped open the locker door. The inside was as neat as I'd remembered, binders stacked in a rectangular tower, spines facing out. A pink magnetic mirror and a picture of the Diamonds (I was cut out) stuck to one of the walls.

I ignored her binders and grabbed the black
Moleskine notebook resting on top, which Clarissa used to write down her homework assignments. I flipped through the pages, searching for something—anything—that would incriminate her.

Each page was filled with the loops and swirls of Clarissa's enviable handwriting, but nothing useful popped out. Disappointed, I placed it back inside the locker. It was then that I noticed a second, identical Moleskine tucked behind one of her textbooks.

I picked it up and opened to the first page. It was a date book. Nothing struck me as particularly out of the ordinary—salon appointments, celebrities’ birthdays—but as I continued reading, I came across the names of a few kids at Bennington. Underneath each name were two or three lines scribbled about them. One in particular stuck out:

•
EXHIBIT P
•

To the untrained eye, there was nothing particularly odd about this entry. I, however, knew better—especially after my conversation with Sharon in the courtyard. This was a list of the people Clarissa had convinced to lie and/or vote in her favor on the jury.

The last page I saw was a list of the top twenty—the ten guys and ten girls eligible to be nominated for the Snow Court. All the boys were crossed out except Ryan, Duncan, and Tiger, who were circled in red; as for the girls, Clarissa had circled her name along with Priya's and Lili's. Mine was the very next one down, and it was scribbled over so heavily I could see where the pen had broken through the page. The names that followed mine were crossed out as well, ending with Sharon's. There were two left on the bottom: Ali Roberts and Jenny Murphy.

I had discovered Clarissa's Hit List. Her competition for the Ice Queen crown, who she was taking down one by one.

“Can I help you?”

Without thinking, I shoved the notebook into my back pocket, closing the door with a bang and pivoting toward the intruder.

It was only Tommy.

“Asshole,” I said, exhaling. “You practically gave me a heart attack.”

He grinned. “Doing a little snooping, eh?”

I nodded.

“Find anything good?”

“Come on,” I said. There was just enough time to photocopy the notebook and return it to Clarissa's locker before she noticed that it was missing. “I'll show you.”

If you appear before the Diamond Court, you should look fierce. You may use one of the mock trial team members as a lawyer, or you may provide your own counsel, but he or she can have no working knowledge of the law and must be a freshman. (It's only fair.)

—
The Diamond Rules

The following afternoon at the Stonecutters’ meeting, after sharing the juicy info I'd uncovered inside Clarissa's locker, I asked everyone for a progress update.

“Monique and I followed Priya home almost every day last week,” Boyd said, “except for Tuesday, because we stopped to get frozen yogurt.”

“Did she do anything incriminating?”

Monique shook her head. “No. But she is quite cruel to the squirrels in her neighborhood. Eet is disgusting.”

“And
she almost ran over a homeless person,” Boyd said. “Talk about road rage.”

“Well, keep at it,” I said, turning to JeDarcy. “What about you two?”

“Nothing yet,” said Jed.

“My dad keeps his office pretty well guarded,” Darcy said while applying her eyeliner, “but he's going out of town next week. That's when I'll make my move.”

“We don't have anything, either,” Jenny said. “And Turbo even went through each one of Lili's garbage cans.”

“Dude,” said Turbo, frowning, “it was so gnarly.”

I was incredibly frustrated. There wasn't a single piece of new information we could use. “Everyone needs to step up their game,” I said, “and try even harder, okay? This isn't a joke. Boyd, why don't we start trailing Clarissa again? We had some pretty decent luck before. Turbo and Jenny, you guys stick to Priya, and Monique, why don't you—”

“Why don't Jenny and I follow Clarissa instead?” Tommy suggested from the corner, where he was taking notes on his MacBook. “And Marni and Anderson can stake out the Starbucks on Lafayette Street. See if any of the Diamonds drop by.”

It was a good idea, actually—despite the fun I'd had with Boyd the last few times we'd trailed Clarissa together. I grabbed Anderson's hand and squeezed.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Tommy said, closing his computer and standing up. “And don't slack off. I want a full report from everyone.”