by Nancy Holder
Ellen looked at Hazel and sobbed, “Why was he here?”
“I don’t know, El.”
They sat on the floor. Hazel had no idea how much time passed. She heard noises, then talking. There were sounds in the backyard. She got up to see what was happening.
Sylvia came out of the study, blocking her way.
“What’s going on?” Hazel asked.
“Go back into the kitchen. Don’t leave Ellen alone,” Sylvia said firmly.
“But—”
“Do it,” Sylvia ordered her.
After a while, Carolyn called them into the living room. “I’m going to drive you home now,” she told Ellen.
“But…” Hazel couldn’t say what she was thinking. What about Brandon?
Carolyn wiped her forehead. She was sweating. “Josh was here. He and Sylvia took Brandon away. I’m going to handle Charlie tonight. That’s all you need to know.”
“What?” Hazel said as Ellen stirred beside her. They both stared at Carolyn as if she were speaking a foreign language.
“Brandon is gone. I’m taking the baseball bat and burning it. We’re going to get another one. It’s going to be all right.”
“But…it’s just a prank,” Ellen cried. “He’s really alive and we’re all going to laugh over this later, right?”
“No,” Carolyn replied firmly. “It’s not a prank. He’s dead.”
Ellen let out a loud wail. Carolyn knelt beside her and caught her chin in her hand. “Ellen, listen to me. Listen. We can’t tell anyone about this. We have to stay silent. PLDs hang tough. We hang together. Got it?”
Ellen sobbed, then she hiccupped a few times and took a ragged breath. “Where…where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Carolyn answered. “Sylvia and Josh took him away.”
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]; [email protected];
[email protected]; [email protected];
[email protected]
Subject: Surprise, surprise!
I told him to be there. I knew what would happen. You killed him, but I made it so. I’m just warming up. One of you is next.
On Monday, Megan, Hazel, and Ellen met early in the school parking lot. Ellen looked like she hadn’t slept in days.
“I talked to Sylvia,” Megan said.
“Oh God. Where’s she been?” Ellen asked.
“I don’t know. She started to say something like, ‘I’m sorry,’ but then she caught herself and she said, ‘I’m so tired.’ Which didn’t make any sense in our conversation.”
Ellen looked stricken. She glanced from Megan to Hazel.
“Maybe she’s just stressed,” Hazel suggested.
“Maybe,” Megan agreed.
Ellen cleared her throat. “What about Carolyn?”
“She would barely speak to me. Maybe saying anything over the phone freaked her out.” Megan touched Ellen’s shoulder. “Be careful what you say today, El. Stay calm.”
Ellen said, “I should go home. I’m not going to be able to handle being here.”
“I’m here,” Hazel told her.
“We both are.” Megan regarded them both. “All this time, I’ve been such a wiseass. But this is serious. Someone called Brandon. Someone let him in. I’m scared to death.”
Everyone at school was buzzing about Brandon Wilde. The police had declared him missing.
His parents had already been on TV, begging someone, anyone, to come forward and tell them where their son was. The news made Hazel’s stomach churn with guilt.
The police were back on campus. Swarming like insects. Pushing hard for kids to be interviewed.
Sylvia sent everyone a text.
Sylvia, who no one had heard from since Friday.
Sylvia, who had buried Brandon’s body.
Meet 3rd fl. bathroom b4 lunch
She was leaning against the sinks with her arms crossed, waiting for them. When they had all trickled in, she said, “Josh is being questioned.”
Hazel gasped, but Sylvia was quiet and calm as she continued. “He’s being questioned, but he’s refusing to answer unless he’s charged. He’s strong. Like we have to be. And we are, right?”
The group nodded like trained dogs, although Ellen’s nod was the weakest. Sylvia saw it and pounced.
“Ellen, people are going to assume you’re messed up because you’re folle with worry. But after a while, they’re going to take a closer look at you. You have got to pull yourself together.”
She pulled out a plastic vial, glanced furtively around, and popped it open. She held out a small blue pill.
“These are tranquilizers,” she said. “Perfectly legal in France. I want you to take one. Now.”
“Oh my God, Sylvia, she could get expelled,” Carolyn said.
Sylvia smiled wryly. “Don’t you think that’s the least of our problems?”
“But—what if she gets high? What if she starts spilling her guts?” Megan asked. “Not a good idea.”
“The pills aren’t that strong. They’ll just take the edge off.” She smiled kindly at Ellen. “I know this is hardest on you. You loved him. Even though he was a dirtbag.”
The word hit Hazel like a slap to the face.
Brandon was dead. What purpose did it serve to talk about him that way?
Ellen teared up. Without a word, she took the pill from Sylvia’s palm. She grabbed Hazel’s bottle of water and swallowed it down.
“Good.” Sylvia put the vial back in her purse. “Now listen. I gave this a lot of thought. We have to continue with my birthday party.”
“Um…poor taste much?” Megan asked, astounded. She glanced at Hazel as if to say, Can you believe this?
“We have to act normal,” Sylvia reminded them. “Otherwise it looks suspicious. We didn’t go into mourning when Breona was killed, did we?”
“That’s too much to ask, Sylvia,” Megan argued. “We should just stick together and keep a low profile.”
“Keep a low profile…you mean, act guilty?” Sylvia’s face was hard, her gaze harder. “I went the extra mile for this group. Josh and me both. The least you can do is give me some backup.”
Ellen moved her fingers to the destroyed cuticle on her left thumb. Sylvia smacked her hand, hard. “For God’s sake, stop that!”
“I’m sorry! I just—I’m sorry!” Ellen ran out the bathroom door.
Sylvia wearily rubbed her eyes. “Hazel, please go get her. She listens to you.”
Hazel found Ellen at her locker, fumbling with her combination. “Ellen,” she called.
It took her three tries to work the combination. “Hazel, I’m never going to last,” she said as she rummaged through her things.
“You have to last,” Hazel said. “It’s going to work out, Ellen.”
“How?” Ellen grabbed something and brought it against her chest. It was a picture of Brandon and her, standing together with their arms around each other. “His parents deserve to know. They’re going to be haunted for the rest of their lives….”
Hazel couldn’t argue with that. She didn’t know what to say, what to do.
Ellen began to cry; Hazel felt a confusing rush of impatience, fear, and empathy.
She was there too. She was just a little better at hiding it.
Then again, she hadn’t been the one with the bat.
She drew Ellen into her arms, soothing her, saying, “It’s okay, Ellen. We’ll figure out what to do.” The minute the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them. They had already been told what to do. Had already agreed to it. “Hang in. Just hang in and maintain.”
“I don’t know if I can, Hazel,” Ellen whispered. “I don’t think I can.”
The week dragged on. Tuesday slid into Wednesday and then Thursday. Sylvia was still determined to have her party on Friday night.
Ellen was on the edge. Hazel knew she wasn’t far from it herself. She sat in chem lab, staring at Ms. Carpentier’s scribbled notes on the whiteboard. Sh
e couldn’t make sense of any of it. Her brain was too full of questions.
All this hiding, all this secrecy. Why is no one thinking about the biggest question of all?
Who told Brandon to be at Charlie’s house?
Who sent the e-mail to all of us afterward?
Sylvia kept saying they were all responsible, but the real culprit was the person who set them up.
Who did it? Who would want Brandon dead?
Mr. Clancy entered the room. He spoke with Ms. Carpentier in a hushed whisper. Ms. Carpentier looked first at Mr. Clancy and then at Hazel, her face cold and serious.
“Hazel?” she called. “Would you come here, please?”
Everything ground to a stop. Only one thought played in Hazel’s mind.
They know.
She felt a strange sense of relief. It would all be over soon.
But at the same time, she couldn’t move. She was frozen, rooted. She couldn’t even blink.
“Hazel?” Ms. Carpentier repeated.
Keep it together, she coached herself. Heads turned as she slid off her stool and walked as steadily as she could to Ms. Carpentier’s desk.
“Would you come into the hall with me, please?” Mr. Clancy requested. “We have some important questions to ask.”
Hazel looked down nervously at her hands, following the vice principal out of the lab.
After the interrogation, Hazel walked in a daze to her car.
There was a note stuck under the windshield wiper blades. Hazel unfolded it and read it. CALL!! S.
She pulled her cell phone out of her backpack and held it in her hand for a moment. Then she dialed Sylvia.
Sylvia answered on the first ring. “Where are you? Where’d you go? Why didn’t you answer your phone? Lakshmi said they sent you to the office.”
Hazel said, “Detective Fullerton was there.”
“What?”
“She asked me what time I was with Matty on the night of the homecoming dance.”
“And that’s all?”
“That’s all,” Hazel confirmed.
“But she can’t do that. She can’t question you without your parents’ permission.”
“No. She can if it’s not going to incriminate me. I’m not suspected of anything.”
“She didn’t ask you anything about Brandon? Didn’t hint…?”
“No. Just Matty.”
Hazel felt dizzy. She had been surprised. The detective’s questions had turned out to be so harmless.
“You should have refused to answer any questions without your parents,” Sylvia chided her. “They might take what you said and twist it around. Breona went off on you at the dance. They might say you have a motive.”
“What?” Hazel’s heart pounded against her ribs. “What are you saying?”
“Just that what they tell you they want to know and what they’re looking for may be two very different things.”
“Oh God.”
“So next time, tell them no,” Sylvia said. “We have to stick together. Come over after school. People are here to decorate for the party.”
Hazel couldn’t believe she was serious. “Sylvia, I have to go home,” she said. “I’m freaking out.”
“You really should be with us.” Sylvia’s voice was kind. “Do what you think is best. But don’t talk to them anymore.”
Hazel drove home and crawled into bed. She lay huddled under her blankets. Eventually she began to doze and dreamed of…
…absolutely nothing.
She woke up in the dark to her computer beeping. Someone was sending her an instant message. She got up, feeling stiff all over, and shuffled to the keyboard. The time readout was nearly 9 p.m.
It was Matty. Sucking in her breath, she accepted his message.
MATTY2PURPLEHAZE: Haze, please read. I’m cutting & pasting this 4 U:
http://www.sandiego.gov/police/index.shtml
Hazel clicked on the link.
County of San Diego, Dept. of Medical Examiner
Investigator’s Narrative
Case Number: 200X-07948
Decedent: WU, BREONA ANGELINA
…based on physiochemical and temperature readings, estimated time of death was between 9 PM and 2 AM
MATTY2PURPLEHAZE: They let me go. I did not kill her, Hazel. I wuz w/you.
PURPLEHAZE2MATTY: I know. Police asked me about it today. I told them the truth. I’m so glad U R OK. I’m sorry I didn’t call. I was so scared.
MATTY2PURPLEHAZE: I want to see you.
PURPLEHAZE2MATTY: It’s late. My parents.
MATTY2PURPLEHAZE: Please, Haze. I need you.
Hazel waited at the window. Matty’s PT Cruiser rolled up thirty minutes later.
She peeked out in the hall. Corey was in his room and her parents were in theirs. Their TV was on. The house was dark.
Her heart pounding, she snuck down the hall and out the door.
She opened the passenger-side door and was greeted by Matty’s familiar smile. She got in. Just the sight of him made Hazel want to throw her arms around him. Instead, she held herself in check. After all they had been through, would he still want her?
“Matty, I’m so sorry,” she blurted. “I should have just gone to the cops sooner. I should have tried to clear your name.”
But Matty cut her off, pulling her into a tight embrace. “It’s okay,” he whispered.
Hazel hugged him back. She felt tears welling in her eyes.
“I—I should have believed you,” she cried. “I know that now. But you lost your temper and Sylvia…she showed me your restraining order—”
“Restraining order?” He held her at arm’s length, regarding her suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”
“In Virginia,” she said slowly. “Your girlfriend…You had a counselor who said you were violent and aggressive….”
She trailed off, silenced by the look of shock on his face.
“Hazel, no one had a restraining order against me. I never saw a counselor in Virginia.”
“But it was in your permanent record. Online.”
He stared at her. “And you read this…when?”
“Sylvia. She hacked in.” Hazel stared at the floorboards, ashamed. “After they arrested you that first time, she showed me the file. That was why I was scared of you.”
“Oh God.” He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. “Sylvia has been messing with you, Haze. With us.”
She shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Show it to me,” Matty insisted.
Together Hazel and Matty tiptoed upstairs to Hazel’s room.
She logged on to her e-mail, found the message from Sylvia, and clicked on the link.
A message flashed on the screen: access denied.
“Sylvia hacked in and made up a fake file,” Matty insisted.
“But why?” Hazel wondered aloud.
In her head, she knew the answer. To have control over me.
But was there more? Megan had mentioned that the PLDs were separated during the time of Breona’s murder—and that Sylvia was late in meeting them afterward.
Was Sylvia trying to put suspicion on someone else after Breona’s death?
Tell him, she urged herself. Tell him all of it.
“It’s all right, Haze. I’m here now.” He kissed her again. And again. “It’s all right.”
But it wasn’t all right. Everything was a mess.
After Matty left, Hazel knocked on her parents’ door.
The sound on the TV went down, and she poked her head into their bedroom.
“I’m going over to Sylvia’s,” she said. “I put the number on the breakfast bar.”
“It’s ten o’clock. Isn’t that kind of late?” her father asked.
Hazel shook her head. “I’ll be back by midnight. I promise.”
“Call us when you get there. Be careful. Lock your doors,” her mom ordered her.
“I will,” she told them both.
; And I won’t come back without my questions answered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Hazel clutched the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. She sped toward Sylvia’s. Sylvia couldn’t get away with this.
Hazel pulled up to the curb and stared at Sylvia’s house. It was a huge Tudor mansion with a high wall and rosebushes lining the façade.
Before Hazel could pull open the driver’s-side door, she heard music blaring from Sylvia’s house. There was a glut of cars parked along the sidewalk. Hazel strode up the stairs and through the front door with determination.
There was a crowd blocking the foyer, and it carried through to the living room. Hazel didn’t say a word to anyone. She stormed through the kitchen and out to the backyard.
Stephan Nylund had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was babbling to a group gathered around him.
“Yo, someone saw Brandon in LA,” he slurred. “He’s just hanging out there. Living like a rock star. Getting all kinds of booty.”
Hazel pushed past and glared at him with disgust.
Farther on, she saw Megan and Ellen sitting together. Ellen was cradling a drink and swaying unsteadily.
Hazel marched up to them.
“Haze,” Ellen slurred. Her eyes were glazed.
Megan regarded Hazel cautiously. “Where have you been?”
“Megan, we have a problem,” Hazel began.
“What is it?”
“It’s Sylvia. I found out something tonight. Something really important. I think she faked a file after Breona’s murder to—” Hazel stopped short. Sylvia voice blared from inside the house.
“This is not funny! Who did this? Who did it?”
Hazel strode back into the house, following the sound.
The large room connected to the parlor was cast in darkness. A handful of kids were grouped around the television set; on the screen was a bird’s-eye view of trees shimmering in a night wind, and children were singing an eerie chorus as an orchestra played a frightening counterpoint.
Sylvia’s silhouette blacked out the images as she punched the player open and yanked out the DVD.
“Hey, that was Diabolique!” a guy curled on the couch pointed out.
“I know what it is!” she yelled. “I want to know who put it in there!”
