“Okay,” I say slowly, resting my hands in my lap.
“When was the last time you saw Miss Nelson?”
“Um, yesterday afternoon while I was at cheer practice.”
Hughes frowns. “She’s not a cheerleader any longer. Why was she at cheer practice?”
“She wasn’t. But I saw her here on campus when I was at cheer. Gretchen plays volleyball and they practice in the gym,” I explain. Then correct myself. I blink hard at the sudden wave of emotion that washes out of me and I choke out, “Played, I suppose I should say.”
The room is silent for too long and I drop my head, staring at my clutched hands. I still can’t believe she’s gone. That Gretchen is…dead. It doesn’t feel real, like this is some sort of awful nightmare I’m going to wake up from at any moment.
But I don’t wake up. I’m still sitting in Mrs. Adney’s office, and when I lift my head, I swear it looks like she’s going to cry. If she starts, I’m going to start, too.
“So you saw Gretchen here yesterday after school,” Spalding reiterates. “Do you remember the approximate time?”
“I don’t know.” I shrug and frown, trying to think. “Around four thirty, I guess? Practice was almost over but I think hers already ended.”
“Good, good.” Spalding scribbles on his notepad while Hughes taps away on his phone. “Did you talk to her?”
I think of Gretchen yesterday. Wearing blue Nike shorts and a Bonita Academy T-shirt, the late afternoon sunlight catching on her vibrant auburn-colored hair and making it shine extra bright. I waved at her, and she looked irritated when she first saw me.
“Briefly,” I tell them with a slight frown.
“What about?” This came from Detective Hughes.
“Our Larks meeting this morning. I called her over and reminded her about it, and she whined because it was going to be held before school started, and none of the girls like an early morning meeting. But I’m just too busy and can’t really schedule it any other time, you know?”
“What exactly is a Larks meeting?” Hughes asks.
I lean forward, my gaze locking with Detective Hughes’s. “The Larks is a student-led organization that provides various charitable services within the community.” I sound like I’m reading from a brochure, but I can’t help it. “It was formed to help build character and create leaders among the girls at Cape Bonita.”
“And what exactly do the Larks do?” Hughes asks.
“Oh, we put together all sorts of fund-raisers, we volunteer at the local children’s hospital and many of the retirement homes in the area as well.” If there’s one thing I love to talk about, it’s the Larks. Some people probably make fun of me behind my back for my enthusiasm, but I don’t really care. I’m proud to be a Lark. It’s a family tradition.
“Penelope is the Larks’ president,” Mrs. Adney chimes in.
“You are?” Detective Hughes’s eyebrow lifts.
I nod. “Just following in my sister’s footsteps.” More like I worked hard and earned that position. No one handed it to me because of Peyton, that’s for damn sure. “Not that I didn’t earn the position fair and square.”
Okay, now I sound like a rambling, nervous idiot. I need to shut up.
“Her older sister, Peyton, was president of the Larks when she was a senior here as well,” Mrs. Adney says.
Hughes looks like he wants to laugh as he turns his focus on me. “So your sister’s name is Peyton? And you’re Penelope?”
I smile demurely, though deep down I’m irritated. This guy is kind of rude. “I guess my parents like the letter P.”
“Their brother’s name is Peter.” This again comes from Mrs. Adney. I sort of wish she would stop talking.
I can tell it takes everything within Detective Hughes not to do a massive eye roll. “Cute.”
“Is this all you wanted to question me about?” My voice is pleasant, but I am thoroughly confused. Why are we talking about my family and their love of the letter P when we should be discussing what happened to Gretchen? A girl I know is gone, yet we’re talking about miscellaneous stuff. It makes no sense.
“So after you talked to Gretchen, where did she go?” Spalding asks.
Okay, maybe that was just a minor blip, their getting sidetracked. “I’m not sure. I still had to finish practice, so I didn’t notice her again. I assume she went to the girls’ locker room, grabbed her stuff, and left,” I say.
“How many members are in your Larks group?” Detective Hughes suddenly asks.
I glance up at him. “Ten. It’s always ten. Well.” I hesitate, my chest getting tight. “Now we’re only nine.” I look to Mrs. Adney, who offers me a sympathetic smile. My chin wobbles and I’m terrified I’ll start crying. That’s the last thing I want to do. Showing emotion is a sign of weakness. “Can I go now?”
She nods. “Will that be all, gentlemen?”
Hughes looks put out, but the older detective just smiles.
“Thank you for your time, Penelope.” Detective Spalding stands and I do the same. “We might have some more questions for you, though, over the next few days. Just to warn you.”
“That’s not a problem.” I flash them a polite smile and then hurriedly make my escape.
I pass through the main office when I see him sitting there—the boy from my physics class. The boy who stared at me at the end of the assembly.
Cass Vincenti.
He’s slouching in one of the four hard chairs that line the wall. Usually that’s the spot where students wait to see the principal.
I’m frowning as I study him and he’s frowning in return. Is he in trouble? Or is he going to talk to the detectives, too?
“What are you doing here?” I ask, my curiosity getting the best of me.
He arches a brow. “Wow. The queen actually speaks.” He rests his hand against his chest, like he’s shocked.
I roll my eyes. “We’ve talked before.”
“Not really.” He drops his hand.
His answer makes me hesitate. “Sure we have.”
“Name five times.”
“Uhh…”
Cass smiles, and it transforms his entire face. His dark brown eyes crinkle at the corners and his smile is…nice. He’s actually really good looking. Not that I thought he was a hideous troll, but still. He’s not someone I’ve paid much attention to before. More like he always blends into the background. I think he prefers it that way.
“I’m just giving you a hard time,” he murmurs, his smile dimming. “Did you talk to the cops about Gretchen?”
“Are you talking to the cops about Gretchen?”
“I asked you first.”
“What are we, twelve?”
“Maybe.” He flicks his chin at me. “So. Did you?”
“Um, yes. I did. We were friends.” And I don’t think they were. I glance around, thankful Mrs. Boyer isn’t at her desk. “Why do they want to talk to you?”
“I don’t know. They called me down here a few minutes ago.” He shrugs, drawing my attention to his broad shoulders.
They’re very nice, capable-looking shoulders.
Ugh. Stop thinking like that. Your friend just died. And they’re possibly questioning this guy about her murder. What if they believe he—
“I didn’t kill Gretchen, if that’s what you’re thinking,” he says, interrupting my thoughts.
I frown. What is he, a mind reader? “I never said that.”’
“But you were thinking it.”
“You’re putting words in my mouth.” If he were any other boy I’ve dealt with at this school, he would’ve jumped on that opportunity. He would’ve said, “I’d like to put something in your mouth,” before laughing his ass off with all his crude friends.
But Cass is alone. There are no friends around for him to impress. And I guess Cass doesn’t have that type of sense of humor. Though there’s something about him—like this underlying anger, that’s just bubbling beneath the surface.
Despite th
e smile and the joking attitude, he seems mad.
He slouches in the chair, kicking out his long legs. He’s wearing the uniform khakis and they’re kind of wrinkled. Like they sat in the dryer for a few days before he finally pulled them out. Beat-up, faded black Converse cover his feet, and he crosses them at the ankles. I have to take a step back to get out of his way. “I can practically read your mind,” he says, his gaze locked on his feet. “You’re all the same.”
“Who are all the same?”
“All of your group. Your girls. Your squad.” He says the last word with contempt as he looks at me, his mouth tipped up on one side. “There’s not a single thing that’s different about any of you. You’re all cut from the same cloth.”
I glare at him, insulted by his assumption. “You don’t know me.”
“Ah, but I do.” His smile fades. “You just don’t realize it yet.”
My heart racing, I hurry out of the office before Cass Vincenti can say anything else to upset me.
Chapter
Five
I enter conference room three in the library promptly at three thirty to find eight panicked girls sitting around the table, all of them deathly serious. Deathly pale.
Deathly quiet.
We are normally not a quiet bunch. Not by a long shot. So I know they’re all affected by Gretchen’s death, not that I can blame them. Only a few days ago, she sat at this very table with us, laughing and trying to take command of the entire meeting, as was her usual way. I always found that so irritating.
Now I know I’m going to miss it. Miss her.
“Ladies.” I smile at them and take the seat at the head of the table. Dani sits to my right, Courtney to my left. The rest of the girls watch me, their eyes wide and unblinking, some even shining with unshed tears. I decide a gentle approach is best. I don’t want to make any of them sadder than they already are, so I need to remain strong and hold it together. “I know this is a difficult day, and I appreciate you coming to the meeting.”
“What are we going to do to honor Gretchen?” asks Alyssa. She’s one of the new members of the Larks, and I’ve learned fast she has a soft heart. As in, she’s blatantly crying at this very moment, tears streaking down her cheeks.
“They’re having a candlelight vigil for her tonight at seven,” adds Maggie, another one of our new Larks. “Coach Smith is giving a speech and everything.”
The volleyball coach adored Gretchen. To the point that we all found it sort of weird, how seemingly…obsessed she was with Gretchen.
“We should make a donation in her honor,” Dani suggests. “What was her favorite charity?”
“Good idea. She loved the animal shelter.” Gretchen much preferred animals to people. “Let’s also send flowers to the vigil.” I open my notes section and write myself a reminder. “Is someone providing a photo of her?”
“I don’t know,” Courtney starts, and I turn to look at her.
“Find out,” I say gently, and she immediately starts texting someone. God knows who.
Courtney is well connected. Not only is her family a huge donor to Cape Bonita Prep, but she also assists in the office, she’s in student council, she’s a cheerleader, she’s dated the quarterback of the football team—a few other members of the football team, too, but let’s not talk about that at this time—and she knows freaking everyone.
Everyone.
She’s my source. When I can’t figure something out, Courtney always can.
“Did anyone else talk to the cops?” This comes from Alexis, a fellow senior, a fellow cheerleader, my nemesis. But I heed the words, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” because Alexis Nguyen is my absolute worst enemy.
And she feels the same exact way about me. We’ve been in competition for the same positions since elementary school. Leads in the school plays, positions on teams, a few times that we’ve fought over a boy…she’s always my direct competition.
We get along because we have to. We share the same inner circle. We’re “friends.” Everyone believes it, except for us. We know the truth. We barely tolerate each other most of the time.
“What do you mean, talk to the cops?” Maggie asks. She’s a junior. Very enthusiastic. Almost too enthusiastic, if you know what I mean. She usually steps up and volunteers for everything.
“I was briefly questioned,” I say quietly, wanting them to know I’m just like them. “Were you, Lex?”
Alexis nods, rolls her eyes. “The young one was cute, but rude.”
“I was questioned, too,” Courtney says, sounding bored. “I think it’s standard procedure. Nothing to get our panties in a twist over.”
“They talked to me,” Dani says, her eyes wide. I really hope she doesn’t lose it and start crying again. I don’t mind as much if the juniors do, but they’re young. They haven’t heard the “stay strong, we’re Larks” speech enough times yet.
Because that’s what Larks do. We stay strong. We are the ones others can lean on. We’re leaders who are committed to helping others. We support our school, our community, those who are in need. Those who are troubled and lost.
And now we’ve lost one of our own. This is not the time for us to fall apart.
Even though I’m pretty sure we all want to—at least secretly.
“They questioned us because we were Gretchen’s friends,” I remind Dani, patting her arm. “They’re probably going to question everyone who was close to Gretchen.”
“I hated her.” This comes from Courtney. The juniors gasp, even Dani. Alexis doesn’t look surprised by her statement, and I’m really not, either, but I wouldn’t make that sort of declaration out loud, for the love of God.
The girl’s been gone not even twenty-four hours yet. Show some respect.
“God, why would you say that?” Alyssa asks, sounding horrified. She shakes her head, her long, curly black hair swaying around her shoulders. “You should never speak ill of the dead!”
Courtney shrugs. “We never really got along. She’s a man stealer.”
I raise a brow. “She stole your man?” What boy is Courtney even talking about?
Now Court just looks irritated. “There was someone I was…interested in, and she snatched him up before we were through.”
“Through with what? Hooking up?” Lex smirks.
Courtney glares. “Shut the hell up, whore.”
Lex’s eyebrows shoot up, but she doesn’t look offended. “Funny, you talk about random hookups and call me a whore, all in one breath.”
“Please, stop arguing. Gretchen’s gone. We shouldn’t talk bad about her,” I say, sounding weary because I so am. I’ve heard this sort of argument between them before. And sometimes Gretchen was involved, too.
Let’s be real—these girls are all the same. As in, they’re all banging the same guy at one point or another. High quality males who are potential boyfriend material at this school and in the nearby vicinity are hard to come by. So they end up…sharing. Not on purpose. Never on purpose, because ew.
So yeah. They steal each other’s “man” all the time. And if one calls the other a whore, then they’re all whores together. You know what I mean?
But I’m not one to slut shame so…
“Coach Smith is already having a poster made out of Gretchen’s senior portrait,” Courtney announces, smoothly changing the subject. “She just texted to let me know.”
“Awesome. Dani, will you order the flowers for tonight?” I ask.
Dani nods and whips out her phone. “No problem. Anything else?”
“I assume Sally is providing the candles and cups for the vigil?” I look at Courtney, who sends off another text to the volleyball coach to ask her. “I think that’s everything we need to talk about today. I hope to see you all there tonight. We should be a solid unit, showing our support and love for Gretchen.”
The words feel like obvious lies as they fall from my lips. I am just like Courtney. I would never wish anyone dead. Once upon a time, Gretchen
and I were friends. But the last couple of years, our bad moments far outnumbered the good. I don’t know where it went wrong, but we weren’t close. Not at all.
Maggie raises her hand, her freckled face wary. She looks downright scared to ask a question, and I do my best to smile pleasantly at her. “You okay, Maggie?”
She nods, dropping her hand to her lap. “Maybe we should make signs? They could say, ‘We love you, Gretchen.’ Or, ‘Heaven gained an angel today.’ Something like that?”
“If you want to head up sign making for Gretchen’s vigil, I say go for it. That’s a great idea,” I tell her, and she looks pleased.
At least I can pass the project on to a bunch of juniors. There are only four of us seniors now, what with Gretchen gone. And the last thing I want to think about is a replacement. Though tradition states we need an equal number of seniors to juniors.
For once, I think we’re going to have to buck tradition. At least temporarily.
Maggie puts together a sign-making group—basically all the juniors. They’ll head to her house as soon as the meeting is finished, and I go ahead and declare it over, because what else can we hash out? It doesn’t feel right to talk about serious Lark business when Gretchen is dead.
I leave the library with Courtney and Dani, all of us walking together to the mostly empty parking lot.
“Court is giving me a ride,” Dani tells me just as we’re about to part. “See you tonight, right?”
“Absolutely,” I say with a nod, hugging Dani close when she embraces me. If Courtney weren’t here, I’d let Dani cry in my arms, but I pull away from her instead, offering a reassuring smile. “You’ll be there early?”
“For sure,” Courtney chimes in, answering for Dani. “Dani and I will come together. Want us to pick you up? I don’t mind.”
“I’m okay with driving.”
“You don’t mind going alone?” Dani asks, concern lacing her voice, filling her eyes.
“I’ll be fine. See ya.” I smile at them and wave before I turn and head toward my car. The sun is shining but I can see the clouds in the near distance, hovering over the ocean. The breeze is crisp and cool, slightly salty. Feels like a storm is coming.
Pretty Dead Girls Page 3
