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.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Megan, Megan!” Hazel yelled, shaking her by the shoulders. The hood of the sweatshirt fell away. Megan’s neck was marked with deep purple bruises.
“She’s been strangled!” Carolyn exclaimed.
Both girls were suddenly startled by a loud cry. They whirled around to see Ellen, one hand covering her mouth, the other shakily clutching her car keys, tears gushing out of her eyes.
“No, please, no,” Ellen whimpered.
“Ellen!” Hazel said.
Ellen let out another sob and then tried to wipe her tears away. “Oh my God. Is she dead?”
Hazel’s mind raced. Did Sylvia overhear us planning to go to the police? Or did someone tell her about it?
Just then her phone let out a sharp beep. Hazel cautiously pulled the phone out of her bag. New text message.
YRSECRETPAL2PURPLEHAZE: Tattletales. Careful who u talk 2. U might end up like her.
“Hello?” Hazel said hesitantly into the phone.
“Hazel,” Sylvia said. “I’ve been trying to reach you ever since I heard.” Her voice sounded hoarse, like she’d been crying.
“Since you heard?” Hazel said slowly.
“Since I heard about Megan. I still can’t believe it,” Sylvia said. “How could this have happened, Hazel? What was she even doing there?”
“I don’t know,” Hazel replied. “None of us know. That’s what we told the police, Sylvia. We don’t know how it happened.”
“I’m so devastated, Hazel,” Sylvia went on. “The funeral is Saturday and I’m not going to school for the rest of the week. I just can’t.”
“Yes. It’s awful. An awful shock,” Hazel said stiffly.
The funeral was horrible.
The smell of incense and dying flowers made Hazel’s throat close up. Her eyes began to water.
There were huge arrangements everywhere. The church was freezing, which was surprising, given that it was overflowing with high school students.
Megan’s casket was closed, and Hazel tried hard not to imagine her lying inside that box—all cut up from the autopsy, filled with embalming fluid, and held together with big stitches.
She thought of Brandon then and tried even harder not to picture what his body must look like, two weeks later.
The girls hadn’t let on about Sylvia to anyone. The police had riddled them with questions when they showed them Megan’s body, but the PLDs all remained silent. Partly because of their shock—and partly because they weren’t sure what Sylvia would do if they implicated her.
The chubby, weak-chinned priest droned on, talking about what a wonderful girl Megan had been, what promise her young life had shown.
“But God in his infinite wisdom saw fit to take her to his kingdom,” he declared.
Sylvia let out a pained sob. She’d been in tears for the entire service. The other PLDs sat beside her in stony, fearful silence. If Hazel hadn’t been so stunned by fear, she would have been disgusted by the irony.
Finally, they packed into cars and drove to the cemetery. As Hazel watched Megan’s casket being lowered into the ground—secreted away—she finally did break down. Her mother squeezed her shoulder and Hazel only cried harder.
Then there was a reception at Megan’s home. The house was filled with morose, darkly clothed adults, clutching glasses of wine and huddling in small groups, sharing dismayed whispers. How could something like this happen in Brookhaven?
Hazel’s parents stayed only a few minutes. They took Corey home after she assured them she’d get a ride. Hazel gritted her teeth as she watched Sylvia approach Megan’s mother. She gave her a long embrace, brushing more tears out of her eyes as they separated.
Crocodile tears, Hazel thought.
It was clear that Megan’s room was off-limits, so the PLDs gathered in the rec room. There were just as many reminders of Megan there—her collection of horror movies sat on the shelf by the television and photo-booth pictures of her, Sylvia, Ellen, and Carolyn from fifth grade were pinned to a bulletin board.
Carolyn had smuggled a bottle of wine down there. They sat on the floor around the coffee table and passed the bottle. Hazel took tiny sips; her stomach was clenched with anxiety and the wine tasted bitter to her. The others were gulping it down and getting wasted fast.
Hazel’s heart was pounding. Sylvia had killed Megan. She was coldhearted. Ruthless. She’d had too much power for too long.
I am sitting with a murderer, Hazel thought over and over.
“I’m going to miss her so much,” Sylvia whimpered, reaching for Carolyn’s hand.
“You don’t need to say that,” Carolyn said sharply, pulling her hand away.
“Carolyn, what’s wrong with you?” Sylvia demanded.
“You didn’t give a crap about her,” Ellen blurted. Hazel was surprised. It seemed like Ellen hadn’t recovered from her stunned daze since the Brandon incident.
“You loved to torture her,” Ellen went on. “You wouldn’t let her forget about hooking up with Carolyn. You held it over her head every chance you got.”
Sylvia blinked at her. “Ellen, now is neither the time nor the place.”
“She’s right,” Carolyn cut in. “You told the whole school about it. It’s your fault Stephan still won’t let it go.”
“How dare you?” Sylvia shouted. “Who got Stephan Nylund’s digital camera before he could upload the photos?”
“But who kept the photos?” Ellen cried. “You did! You threatened her with them ever since. You wouldn’t let it die.”
“Shut up!” Sylvia screamed.
“No!” Ellen yelled back. “You do it to all of us. You are an evil, controlling bitch, Sylvia Orly.”
“Whoa!” Hazel put her arm around Ellen. “Calm down. We’re at Megan’s funeral.”
“Brandon didn’t even want you,” Ellen said, brushing Hazel off and pointing her finger in Sylvia’s face. “He wanted me, not you.”
“That’s enough!” Sylvia shouted, getting to her feet. She advanced on Ellen.
“Yes, it is enough!” Ellen said. “We are done. All of us. The PLDs are over.”
“Oh? You’ve decided that?” Sylvia’s voice was dripping with contempt.
“Yes!” Ellen shrieked at her. “I have.” She took Carolyn’s hand. “Come on. Let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Why? So you can go wring her neck and blame it on the rest of us?” Sylvia asked.
Ellen froze. “What are you saying? That I killed Megan?”
“Why not you? You’ve always been the weird one, Ellen. A weird little freak,” Sylvia spat. “If it wasn’t for me, do you think anyone would be your friend? I made you who you are.”
Ellen narrowed her eyes. “Don’t try to pin this on me. Three people are dead, and you had reasons to be mad at all of them. Brandon liked me better than you. Breona Wu totally dissed you. And Megan—you killed Megan thinking she was me. We were going to tell. And you were the one who was going to go down for it. We all know it was you, Sylvia. We all know it!”
“Really? Where’s your proof, Ellen?” Sylvia cried. “You have none. Because you know it wasn’t me.”
She turned to Hazel. “You don’t believe this…this merde, do you?”
“Merde, like you dish out?” Hazel replied. “You are a total user, Sylvia. Megan’s right. We’re through.”
Carolyn took Ellen’s arm. Without another wor
d, the two left the room.
Hazel followed them toward the door.
“Come back here!” Sylvia shouted. “Come back here if you know what’s good for you, you pathetic losers!”
Hazel kept going.
“You are so going to regret walking away from me! You are all going to be sorry!”
Lakshmi was delighted to take Hazel home. She yakked all the way to the Stone house.
“Is it true she was buried with her scrunchie and her Claddagh ring?” Lakshmi asked.
Hazel said not one syllable in reply.
It was not a Movie of the Week moment. She was not going to discover that Lakshmi was her actual true best friend. Real life didn’t work that way.
“I hope you feel better,” Lakshmi said by way of parting, obviously disappointed that Hazel hadn’t talked or, better yet, invited her in.
Her parents had waited for her to return. Hazel was blandly noncommittal about what she and the other girls had done at the reception.
“I just hope you’re okay, honey,” her mother said, worry lines creased around her eyes. They sat down at the kitchen table together, and Hazel let her mother make her some tea. Watching her mom putter around the kitchen, getting out jam and butter for toast, Hazel finally did have some kind of a moment. Maybe her mom wasn’t the smartest or most interesting or most sophisticated person. But she was kind. She loved her children.
Hazel’s mom trusted her. More than Hazel ever should have trusted her so-called friends.
Hazel excused herself and went up to bed. But her thoughts wouldn’t let her sleep.
She took a shower. As she leaned against the tiles, her tears mixed with the water.
Ellen was right. Sylvia was evil. But there was no way to prove it.
Hazel felt lost. She needed a sane voice. Someone to lean on.
She got out of the shower and called Matty. He was there in minutes, holding his arms out as before. She didn’t kiss him. She kept her distance.
“Matty,” she began. “I…I have to tell you something awful.” She took a deep breath.
In a rush, she told him everything. The big prank. Ellen. The baseball bat. Brandon dead on the floor.