Pushing thoughts of Brogan Pearson out of my head, I hurry to class, slipping into my seat and pulling a few index cards and my pen out of the front pocket of my backpack before I scan the room.
Everyone’s talking in low whispers, their wide-eyed gazes lingering on empty desks. Unease trickles down my spine and I jump a little when the guy who sits next to me brushes past and settles into his seat, sending me a curious glance when he catches me gawking.
I look down, not wanting to engage. Weird boys who keep to themselves and rarely talk really aren’t my thing. Plus, his background story is weird and sort of sad and warped. Something about a dead father and a mom in prison for murdering him? I don’t know if it’s true—the information did come from Dani, after all.
But I do know he lives with his grandma up on Hot Springs Road, which is like, the most elite neighborhood in town. We’re talking multimillion-dollar estates with views of the Pacific that stretch as far as the eye can see. He’s also really smart and prefers to keep to himself, which ups his weird factor around here. No one wants to keep to himself on purpose.
Meaning no one can figure him out.
Within minutes, Mrs. Emmert strides into the classroom and dumps a stack of books and a can of Dr Pepper on top of her desk before she surveys everyone sitting at their desks, her hands resting on her hips. “Ready to get this review started?” she asks, her overly cheery voice making everyone groan in agony. Including me.
She does a quick roll call, not missing a beat when a couple of female students come up absent and the whispers start all over again. Mrs. Emmert shushes us before she launches into the chapter review, talking so fast I can hardly keep up. I finally prop up my physics textbook in front of me and switch my phone to record mode, so I can catch every word she says and not have to worry about writing it all down. I prop my elbow on my desk and rest my chin on my hand, the sound of the teacher’s droning voice making me sleepy. Not a good sign. I usually don’t feel like this until after lunch.
Why did I take this class again? To look good to future colleges? Or to torture myself?
A crackling sound suddenly comes over the school intercom and Mrs. Emmert clamps her lips shut, all of us swiveling our heads in the direction of the speaker that’s on the wall, just to the right of the American flag. We hear a throat clear.
It’s our principal, Mr. Rose.
“Attention everyone—we’re asking that all Cape Bonita Prep students please leave their classrooms in an orderly fashion and go to the main gymnasium for an emergency assembly.” There’s a pause, the static from the speaker loud in the quiet classroom. “Again, all students and faculty. Please come to the gymnasium for an important announcement. Thank you.”
Mrs. Emmert blinks repeatedly, her expression one of surprise, her lips tight with seeming concern. “Well, you heard the man. Gather up your things and let’s go to the gym.”
Shutting off the record button, I shove my phone into the front pocket of my backpack. “What about the test tomorrow?” I ask as we all seem to stand at the same time, earning a few irritated groans for my efforts. I need to know everything that’s going to be on tomorrow’s test. I refuse to fail.
More like I can’t fail.
“We’ll postpone it.” Mrs. Emmert actually looks disappointed. Me, on the other hand? I’m thrilled for the extra day of reprieve. And so is the rest of the class as they all start to cheer. “All right, all right, settle down.” She hesitates for a moment before she continues. “Just to let you know, in all my years at this school, I’ve never seen anyone call a surprise assembly.”
“You don’t know what it’s about, Mrs. E.?” someone yells from the back of the room.
“No, I do not.” Mrs. Emmert’s smile is strained, her gaze worried. “Trust me, I’m just as curious as the rest of you.”
“This ought to be interesting,” the guy who sits next to me mutters under his breath as he shoves his textbook into his black backpack. He pulls the hood of his navy blue regulation school sweatshirt over his head, slings his backpack onto his shoulder, and heads out of class.
“Cass is so weird.”
I turn to see my friend Courtney Jenkins sneering in the direction the boy just left. “He’s not so bad,” I say, wondering why I’m defending him. Seriously, I do think he’s a little weird. I’ve never really talked to him.
In other words, I know nothing about him.
“Please. His mom murdered his dad—she actually cut his throat open because she’s a vengeful bitch, and now she’s in prison forever. So freaking creepy. Makes you wonder if that sort of thing is hereditary.” Courtney mock shudders. “So. Do you think the assembly is about the body that was found up at the church?”
Wait a minute. A body was found at the church? Maybe Dani was right. She did mention that Courtney told her about the police calling in. What if they’re going to talk to us about it because the body they found is of someone we know? “I have no idea.”
“I think it’s someone who goes to this school.” Courtney looks around, her perfectly curled, perfectly blond hair barely moving. “The question is, who’s not here today?”
A shiver runs down my spine at Courtney’s foreboding tone. “I don’t know.”
“Girls!” Mrs. Emmert’s shrill voice makes me wince and I turn to find her glaring at us. “Let’s go!”
I exit the classroom without a word, Courtney following behind me and chirping away, though I’m not really listening to her. All I can think about is someone’s dead. Someone we might know.
And I have no idea who it is.
Chapter
Three
The small gymnasium is packed, freshmen and sophomores sitting on one side of the gym, juniors and seniors on the other. I settle in between my usual group of friends, Dani on one side, Courtney on the other. Brogan sits directly behind Dani, talking endlessly as we wait for Mr. Rose to make his appearance. Courtney taps away on her phone, no doubt spreading gossip about the possible dead student announcement.
Me? I wait anxiously, scanning the room, my gaze snagging on our principal as he marches to the center of the gymnasium with a microphone clutched in his right hand. His expression is grim, like he’s about to blow our minds with some serious bad news and I sit up straight, bracing myself for the verbal blow.
“Oh God, there he is,” Dani whispers, ducking her head close to mine. “Mr. Rose looks so upset.”
She’s right, but I say nothing. Nerves are eating at my insides, making me tense, and I suck in a sharp breath, exhaling slowly.
“What’s he so upset about?” Brogan yells, making Danielle wince.
I turn and send Brogan a withering glance. “Don’t eavesdrop on private conversations, Brogan.”
“Give me a break, Penny. You can’t have a private conversation in the middle of the gym surrounded by everyone,” Brogan says, his voice dripping with sarcasm before he sends a little smile in Dani’s direction.
Ugh. I hate it when anyone calls me Penny, especially someone I can’t stand, like Brogan Pearson. Though the jerkoff has a point—private conversations are impossible in situations like this.
“Students.” The speakers screech with reverberation and Mr. Rose winces, holding the microphone far out in front of him before he attempts to speak again. “Everyone. Please. Settle down.”
His calm voice isn’t very effective. Mr. Rose is a short and stocky man, probably in his mid to late fifties. Everyone loves him because he’s such a pushover. The one to watch out for is our vice principal, Mrs. Adney. She’s the one who’ll kick our asses seventeen ways to Sunday if we get too out of line.
And hey, I didn’t make up that quote. Supposedly Mrs. Adney did.
She marches out to the center of the gym right at this very moment, swipes the microphone from Mr. Rose’s hand, and sticks two fingers in her mouth before she whistles so loudly, I automatically cover my ears with my hands.
“Listen up!” Mrs. Adney yells, her voice booming throughout the gym
. The crowd immediately goes silent and she hands the microphone back to Mr. Rose, a satisfied smile on her face as she returns to the benches and sits.
“We’ve been notified of a…tragedy this morning.” Mr. Rose clears his throat. Dani reaches out, grabbing hold of my hand and clutching it tight. I think deep down she might be enjoying this moment, not that I’d ever say that to her face. “Involving one of our own.”
The murmurs start back up again and the terse look Mr. Rose sends all of us doesn’t stop the rumors’ momentum. “Gretchen Nelson is…no longer with us.” He drops his head for a moment in prayer. “They found her body this morning,” he murmurs into the microphone, his head still bent.
A collective gasp rips through the gym, and I gasp along with everyone else. No. Gretchen? I’ve known her forever. She is—was—a Lark. We cheered together our freshman and sophomore years before she quit and became captain of the volleyball team. She was a fierce competitor. She was also a friend—and sometimes an enemy, if I’m being completely honest.
And now…she’s dead.
I can’t believe it.
“The police haven’t released any details and not much is known, so please, respect the Nelson family during this difficult time and keep the rumors to yourselves.” Too late for that. I can already hear the whispers all around me. “We’ve brought grief counselors onto campus, so if anyone needs to speak with them, they’re available.” A sob sounds at this offer and I look around, though I don’t know who cried out.
All I see are chalky, pale faces, shock etched into their features, eyes wide and full of fear. Of sadness. I wonder if I look the same. I can’t believe she’s gone—I just saw Gretchen yesterday. She’d seemed perfectly normal, like she had no problems, and at the time, I guess she didn’t.
One of our own has been taken. Not just someone from Cape Bonita Prep, one of my own. Granted, Gretchen and I hadn’t been that close lately—
“We need to call an emergency Larks meeting,” Courtney whispers close to my ear, interrupting my thoughts.
I say nothing. It’s like I can’t. Words are stuck in my throat, which never happens. I’m all about voicing my opinion, but I swear I feel almost…emotionless.
Void.
I think I’m in shock.
“Hey, I’m serious,” Court continues to whisper fiercely. Her expression is fierce, too. Her eyes are narrowed and she’s watching me carefully. As if she fully expects me to say no. “We all need to talk about this.”
“About what?” Dani asks as she leans over me, practically thrusting her face in Courtney’s.
Court rolls her eyes, a sneer curling her upper lip. “About what happened to Gretchen. This is serious. Someone is dead. Someone we know and was a part of our group, a part of the Larks. She was our friend.”
“Yeah. But what do we have to do with that?” Dani sounds genuinely perplexed.
“Who could’ve done this to her, Dani? That’s what we need to talk about. You know how sometimes Gretchen hung out with…unsavory people.” Courtney wrinkles her nose.
Unsavory? Where did she get that word from? And Gretchen hung out with all the same people we did.
“She did not,” Dani says indignantly.
“Penelope.” Courtney jabs me in the side with a pointy elbow, making me wince. “Say something.”
Glancing around, I make sure no one is paying us any attention before I duck my head and murmur, “If you really want to talk about this, let’s meet right after school. Should I bring in one of those grief counselors?” Maybe we need one.
“Absolutely not. What we want to discuss is private,” Courtney says.
“Are we meeting in the library?” Dani asks. When I glance up, her brown eyes are so wide I feel like I could trip and fall right into them.
I nod. “Room three.” Our library is huge. Hardly anyone uses it. There are large conference rooms in the back of the building, and that’s where we always meet.
“Girls!”
We all three lift our heads to find Mrs. Adney staring at us, her gaze razor sharp, her mouth tight. My cheeks go hot at being caught chatting during what is most definitely a somber time.
“Sorry,” Dani squeaks, and Mrs. Adney nods once, turning her attention back to Mr. Rose, who is still droning on about grief counseling and how what we might know in regard to Gretchen’s death could be important. How any information, any at all, he stresses, could be a major help to the case.
I wish I knew what was going on. How did it happen? Was it an accident? Or do they suspect Gretchen was…murdered by someone she knew? Could the killer be someone we know? The thought is terrifying. It’s much easier to put this on a complete stranger who wandered into town and killed her without thought. Cape Bonita is a small, wealthy town along the northern California coast. We don’t do murder.
I can literally hear one of Mom’s friends saying that, I swear.
But seriously. The danger you don’t know is far more understandable than the danger you do know—at least in this case.
I scan the room, noting the unfamiliar men standing near the exit. They’re wearing cheap, rumpled suits, their hawk-like gazes sweeping the room, no doubt sizing up every one of us. Cops. They’re so obvious it’s almost pitiful. But maybe they want to be obvious. Maybe they’re trying to send us a message.
Looking away, my gaze snags on a boy sitting directly across the gym on the bottom riser. In the freshman section, though he’s not a freshman. He’s leaning his elbows against the back of the riser just behind him, his legs spread wide, his expression bored. He lifts his dark head, his gaze snagging on mine, and I can’t look away.
It’s the boy from my physics class. The one Courtney called weird. Cass something—such an unusual first name—he’s the one with the murdering mom. And he’s staring right at me.
He smirks, this tiny, lopsided smile that’s…I don’t know how to describe it. Irritating? Smug? Intriguing? Cute.
No. Not cute. There’s nothing really cute about him. I don’t like how he’s watching me so carefully. I glance over my shoulder, making sure he’s not staring at someone behind me, and when I look back at him, he’s inclining his head toward me. His expression clearly saying, Yes, you.
“Is he looking at you?” Dani whispers close to my ear.
“Who?” I pretend I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“Him,” Dani stresses, tilting her head in his direction. “Cass Vincenti.” She pauses. “He’s totally staring at you.”
“No, he’s not.”
“He so is. Ooh, do you have a crush on him, or what?” Dani starts to giggle but quits when I glare at her. For some reason, I don’t want Courtney to know about this. She gave me a weird vibe earlier about Cass.
“Absolutely not,” I say vehemently.
“Uh-huh.” Dani smirks. “I thought you didn’t like high school boys.”
“You’re right. I don’t. I’m waiting until college to find a real boyfriend.” The last boyfriend I had—Robby Matthews, star football player, gorgeous, and a cheating bastard—graduated last year, and I haven’t been interested in any boys at school since.
“That’s so boring,” Dani mumbles.
“But safe,” I remind her.
Besides, Cass Vincenti isn’t boyfriend material.
Not even close.
Chapter
Four
The call comes during sixth period when I’m in American Government. We’re all quietly reading a chapter while our teacher tries to take a nap, which is typical. Mr. Gonzales answers the phone sitting on his desk, listens for a moment, and then slams the receiver down, glaring at all of us like we interrupted his siesta.
“Penelope Malone,” he barks. “Go to the main office.”
I frown. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” he snaps. “Just go. They’re waiting for you.”
Shoving my stuff into my backpack, I stand and glare at Mr. Gonzales as I exit the classroom to catcalls and those low ooohs boys
like to make when they think someone’s in trouble.
There’s no way I’m in trouble. And who could be waiting for me? It’s such a strange thing for Mr. Gonzales to say.
When I enter the main office a few minutes later, the secretary Mrs. Boyer takes one look at me from behind her desk and says, “Hi Penelope. You’re wanted in Mrs. Adney’s office.”
Dread fills me. I’ve never been called to the vice principal’s office before. Ever. Not in all my many years of attending school. What could this be about? What did I do? More like, what is someone saying I did?
I may never get in trouble, but I definitely have enemies. We all do.
The office door is partially open, and when I peek in, the dread leaves me. It’s not anything I’ve done. It’s all about Gretchen.
Those cops I saw in the gym earlier are standing in Mrs. Adney’s cramped office, and she’s sitting behind her desk, chatting with them in low murmurs. I’m guessing they want to talk to me. One is staring at his phone—the younger one—and the older one has a small notepad, his pen scratching across the paper so hard I can actually hear it from where I’m standing.
I clear my throat to warn of my existence and then knock on the door, flashing Mrs. Adney a bright smile when her gaze meets mine. “You wanted to see me?” My tone is pleasant. Like it’s any other day.
Mrs. Adney scowls because it is most certainly not like any other day. “Detectives Spalding and Hughes would like to speak with you, Penelope—” she starts to say, but the older detective interrupts her, which makes her scowl deepen.
“We won’t take up too much of your time.” His voice is gentle and he steps forward, indicating the empty chair in front of me with a casual wave of his hand. “If you don’t mind having a seat, Miss Malone?”
I sit, smoothing my blue-and-white plaid skirt down around my thighs, making sure I’m covered. My hands are shaky and I hope they don’t notice. “I’m not sure if I can help,” I say with a small smile.
The older detective sits next to me, but the younger one remains standing. “I’m Detective Spalding,” the older one offers. “And that’s Detective Hughes. We’re here to ask you a few questions about your friend Gretchen Nelson.”