Pretty Dead Girls

by Monica Murphy

  “Me neither,” Dani mutters as she looks around.

  “I have a confession.” When Dani turns to look at me, I admit, “Now I sort of wish I could go to that stupid party. We need to stick together.”

  Despite how risky it would be to show up, I do want to go. Is that dumb? Probably. I shouldn’t bother, especially if I’m by myself. What if something…

  Happens?

  I don’t want to risk it.

  “You’re right. We should stick together. I can get you in if you really want to be there,” Dani says with a slow smile. “She said you’ll be turned away at the front door, but she never mentioned anything about the back door.”

  I return her smile. “That definitely has potential.”

  …

  I’m in bed when I get a Snapchat text from Cass. I don’t remember adding him, but I must’ve, so I open it up, curious to see what he says.

  Cass: You still mad at me?

  I can’t help but smile. He’s pretty unapologetic, isn’t he?

  Me: Sort of.

  Cass: Will my saying sorry help?

  Me: Maybe.

  I receive a selfie pic of him making an exaggerated sad face, with a pouty lower lip and everything. The caption on the photo says: Sorry Pen.

  The smile that stretches across my face can’t be helped. It comes easier, too, considering no one is around to see me. I take a selfie of me in mid eye roll, a slight smile on my face, and include a caption.

  Me: You’re forgiven.

  Cass starts texting me again.

  Cass: Good. I don’t want you mad at me, Pen. I like you.

  I frown when I read his response. I don’t get this guy. It’s like he came out of nowhere and wants to attach himself to my side. It’s kind of…weird. And intriguing. But he’s weird and intriguing and mysterious. Totally not my type.

  So why am I…attracted to him?

  Me: Why do you like me? I don’t get it.

  I send the text before I can second-guess myself and then drop my phone on the bed, covering my face with both hands. I’m quietly freaking out and wishing I had someone to talk to. Dani would try to convince me I’ve lost my mind—and maybe she’s right. Court would laugh her ass off and blab to everyone at school that I have a thing for Cass. And I can’t tell my parents, not that I really talk to them about this type of stuff anyway. Plus, Dad would probably suspect Cass is the killer and trying to get close to me—which is just ridiculous. While Mom would ask if he played any sports. She has a thing for jocks, like I used to.

  Ugh.

  Dropping my hands, I grab my phone and check if Cass replied.

  He did.

  Cass: You’re beautiful and smart and funny. Why wouldn’t I like you?

  Me: Are you being for real right now?

  Cass: Are you being insecure right now, Pen? I didn’t know you had it in you.

  Me: What’s that supposed to mean?

  Cass: You’re a confident girl at school. It’s like nothing bothers you.

  Me: Things bother me. My friends being murdered bothers me.

  Lots of other things bother me, too. Like how it’s starting to feel like my friends aren’t really my friends at all, with the exception of Dani. How fast everything’s changing yet I somehow still feel the same. How everyone’s scared and tense and nothing is normal and I hate it.

  I really do.

  Cass: They were my friends too.

  I frown at the words he typed, wondering why neither Gretchen nor Lex ever mentioned Cass to any of us before.

  Me: Were you guys close?

  Cass: Sort of. I’ll tell you more about it next time I see you.

  I don’t reply for a moment, too stuck on what he said. He’ll tell me more? I’d love to hear it. I don’t know anything about him. Nothing at all save for the few rumors Dani mentioned to me. Oh, and Court. He’s a total mystery. One I’d like to get to know better.

  But on the down low. I don’t want my so-called friends knowing about this. They’ll just give me endless crap.

  I receive another Snapchat from Cass, and this time it’s a photo of him. I can tell he’s shirtless but I don’t see much, just his shoulders and up. He has tan, smooth skin, fresh-shaven cheeks and sleepy eyes. His hair is tousled and it looks damp. Like he just got out of the shower.

  Hmmm.

  He captioned the photo, too.

  Good night, Pen.

  He included a star emoji.

  I send him a pic of myself back, my eyes closed and my head against the pillow like I’m already asleep.

  Night, Cass.

  Chapter

  Nineteen

  Friday afternoon, I’m leaving school and headed toward the parking lot when I sense someone is walking beside me. When I turn to see who it is, I come to a sudden stop.

  And so does Cass. “Hey,” he says easily when I just stare at him. “Do you have a minute? Can we talk?”

  It’s weird to have him face-to-face again after Snapchatting last night. He wasn’t in physics today, and I figured he didn’t come to school at all. “Sure,” I say, glancing around. “What’s going on?”

  He glances around, too, as if he just had the same thought. “Could we talk somewhere private?”

  “I don’t know. I need to get home…” Why am I acting like this? Like I don’t want to talk to him when I really do?

  “Just for a few minutes.” He steps closer, and I tilt my head back to meet his gaze. He is really tall. Why doesn’t he play on the basketball team? Or maybe he does and I never paid attention before? If he did, that would make my mom happy.

  Geez, what am I thinking? That Cass will meet my parents and I want their approval? Clearly I’m getting ahead of myself.

  “Please, Pen,” he says when I don’t answer him.

  I give in and start walking, waving at him to come with me when he doesn’t. He falls into step behind me and I find an empty classroom, slipping into it, and he follows.

  The door shuts and I turn to face him, taking a deep breath before I ask, “What’s up?”

  “Getting right to it, huh? No casual how are yous or bland observations about the weather?” He smiles, but I don’t. “Okay, then. I was wondering if you’d, uh, go with me to Courtney’s party tonight.”

  My heart trips over itself at his request. Is he asking me on a date? “No.”

  Cass frowns. “Really? You don’t want to go with me?”

  I shake my head, flustered by his question, which never happens. “No, it’s not that. It’s just… I’m not going.” Should I tell him my plan to sneak in?

  His frown deepens. “Why not? It’s a Lark event, and you’re the president.”

  It’s weird, to hear him talk about the Larks. “It’s not officially sponsored by the Larks. It’s Courtney’s deal.” I don’t bother explaining to him the reasons why that is. I don’t want to bore him.

  “You two are friends.”

  “Not at the moment.”

  Cass frowns. “Why is it you Larks never seem to get along?”

  I say nothing. Why deny it when he’s right?

  But wait a minute—how does he know that?

  “Is that what you wanted to talk about?” I ask when he says nothing else.

  “Yeah. I’m just— There’s no way I can convince you to come with me?” He makes a cute little face, and I’m tempted to give in.

  But I can’t just walk into Court’s party with Cass. That would cause all sorts of drama.

  Wouldn’t it?

  “No, sorry. I can’t go.” I feel bad. I should tell him the truth.

  “It’s just…” His expression turns serious. “It’s not because of me, is it?”

  I soften toward him. I don’t want him to think I don’t like him, because I do. Though I can’t quite figure him out yet. “It’s not you. It’s—it’s Courtney. I didn’t want her to have this party. We fought about it and now she doesn’t want me there. So it’s this mutual stand-off type of thing between us.”


  “Ah, gotcha,” he says with a nod, though he looks confused. But Courtney and I have fought like this off and on for years. It’s just our thing.

  And for once, I’m totally over it.

  Cass shuffles his feet and I glance down at his Converse. I don’t know how he gets away with wearing them, since they’re not part of our uniform. “Maybe we could sneak into the party then.”

  I frown. “What?”

  “The two of us together, we can sneak into Courtney’s house and spy on everyone. Watch what they’re doing and see how they act.” He steps even closer to me, and I can feel his body heat radiating toward me. I can smell him, too. That same mixture of clean boy and fabric softener and the faintest hint of cologne. “I have a feeling the person who murdered Alexis and Gretchen might be there tonight.”

  I try my best to look like what he just said meant nothing to me, but deep down inside, I am totally flipping out. He’s repeating exactly what Courtney said about the party. Using it to bring out the killer, which is freaking scary. “If that’s the case, what if the cops are there?”

  “So what if they are?”

  “Then we should let them do their job and not interfere.”

  “But maybe they’re not so great at doing their job. So far, they haven’t done much. I’m not impressed.” He sends me a look. “Don’t you agree?”

  I don’t bother answering him. “Do you really want to go to the party if the killer could possibly be there?”

  I don’t want to, but I feel like I have to. Dani will be there, and I want to protect her. And I really don’t want to be alone tonight, either.

  “Hell yeah, I do.”

  His answer is no surprise.

  “Mrs. Adney doesn’t want the party to happen.”

  “Of course she doesn’t.” He smiles. Actually looks excited at the prospect. “Come on, Pen. Sneak into the party with me. It’ll be…fun.”

  That is the last word I’d use to describe this party. “It’ll be awful. We shouldn’t be having a big party when they just died. It’s so disrespectful.” I feel like I keep repeating myself, yet no one is listening.

  “Think if we actually caught the killer, though. We’d be heroes.” His eyes are sparkling and his body is practically vibrating with excitement. “It’ll be the coolest thing ever.”

  He sounded so young when he said that, like a little kid. I wonder what he was like when he was kid. When exactly did his mom murder his dad? Is that story even true? And how long has he lived with his grandma?

  These are all questions I want to ask him, but I don’t know how.

  “You really want to do this, don’t you?” I ask softly.

  “Yeah.” He hesitates. “Plus, I’ve never been to Courtney’s house before. I want to check it out.”

  “Right. Though you two have hooked up multiple times.” At his shocked look, I forge on. “You basically said that to me when we met at Sweet Offerings. Remember? You said Courtney and Gretchen were fighting over you and all that.”

  His expression turns to stone. “It was nothing. Definitely not multiple times.”

  I roll my eyes, exasperated. “Really? Because you made it sound like it happened a lot.” When he just stares at me with a blank look on his face, I’m tempted to kick him. “Seriously right now? And come on, the two of you are practically neighbors. I have a hard time believing you’ve never been to her house.”

  “Will you go with me to the party or not?” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration, glaring at me. He went from giddy little boy to brooding angry teen in ten seconds flat.

  “Fine, I’ll go.” I can’t believe I just said that. And maybe I don’t want to go with Cass after all. He’s being weird.

  He smiles that transforming smile that turns him from average good-looking boy to swoon-worthy hotness, and I steel myself, repeating the words must resist, must resist, in my head. “I’ll pick you up at your house. Say around nine?”

  “No, you don’t have to do that.” I do not want to introduce this guy to my parents. Not yet. I haven’t had a boyfriend since Robby and I broke up right before last summer, and Mom still asks me if I’m ever going to “get back in the saddle.” I don’t even know what she means by that, but it sounds gross and slightly perverted.

  “Don’t suggest that we meet at the party, because I want to make sure you’re safe,” he says.

  I frown. “Safe?”

  “Yeah. I want you with me the whole night.” When I give him a doubtful look, he continues. “I’m serious. I don’t want you to leave my side. So I’m picking you up at your house.”

  “What if I pick you up?”

  “I guess you can, but I’m driving to Courtney’s.” He pauses. “With you.” Another pause. “Together.”

  He’s rather demanding. “You are so not.”

  “I am,” he says, his voice firm. “That’s the only way I’ll agree to you picking me up. Otherwise, I’ll come get you at your house.”

  “No way.” I shake my head. “I’ll come get you.”

  “At nine?”

  “Yes. At nine.”

  “Awesome.” He smiles. “I’ll walk you out to your car.”

  I don’t protest because I think I know what he’s doing. He’s making sure I’m safe, which I can totally appreciate. I walk beside him out to the parking lot, my car parked in its usual spot at the far end of the lot, close to the street. But I see another car parked next to mine. It’s a dark, nondescript sedan, and I know without seeing them that the car belongs to Detectives Spalding and Hughes.

  And then I do see them, the both of them leaning against the hood of their car. The moment they spot us, they stand up straight and start to make their approach.

  They pop up at the worst times, I swear.

  “Miss Malone,” Spalding says with a nod. “Mr. Vincenti.”

  We both stop, Cass immediately going tense. “Hi,” I say.

  Cass says nothing.

  “Didn’t realize you two knew each other,” Hughes says, sounding amused. He even smiles at us. “You guys friends?”

  “Yeah,” Cass croaks, then clears his throat. I send him a quick look, but he never takes his gaze off the detectives.

  “More than friends?” Hughes pushes.

  “No,” I say firmly, only because I don’t want the detectives to think otherwise.

  Spalding is all pleasant smiles. “Okay then. We wanted to ask you a few questions. The both of you,” he says, his gaze landing on Cass.

  “I’m afraid I can’t talk to you unless we’re in the presence of my attorney,” I say with a polite smile.

  Hughes scowls. Spalding lets it slide. “Not a problem. We’ll just talk to Mr. Vincenti here.”

  “What do you want?” Cass asks, his voice tight.

  “First off, do you know anything about this party tonight at Courtney Jenkins’s house?” Spalding glances over at me. “I hear it’s a Larks thing.”

  “It’s not,” Cass says easily. “Courtney is having the party, not the Larks.”

  I’m so glad I told him that.

  “Are you going?”

  “What does it matter?”

  Spalding turns to me. “Are you going to the party?”

  I slowly shake my head but don’t say a word.

  They both stare at us, trying to…what? Break us down? I have no idea. But I don’t say anything else and neither does Cass, and I’m totally impressed. I’m starting to realize that the best defense is not to say anything at all.

  “Word of advice,” Hughes starts, looking thoroughly pissed. “Don’t go.”

  “We’ll take it into consideration,” Cass says sarcastically.

  The detectives look at each other and then silently head for their car.

  Cass doesn’t speak again until they’re long gone down the road. “Assholes,” he spits out.

  “They’re not so bad.” Ugh, why am I defending them? They are assholes.

  “Yeah, well, it’s easy to say that when you have a
powerful lawyer backing you up and allowing you to keep your mouth shut.” He shakes his head, looking bitter. “They brought me into the station a few nights ago and questioned me there for hours.”

  I’m surprised. “Really? Why?”

  “My number showed up on Gretchen’s cell phone records.” He says nothing else.

  And I don’t know what to say either. Really, I want to press him for more info.

  “Did your number show up on her phone records recently?” The question pops out of my mouth like I have no control.

  “We talked.” He looks away, like he can’t meet my gaze. “We were…friends.”

  I’m wondering what his definition of “friends” is.

  “Okay, well, I should get going.” I smile but it feels fake, so I let it fade quickly. “See ya tonight.”

  “See ya.” He shoves his hands into the front pockets of his khakis. When he doesn’t walk away, I glance around the empty parking lot.

  “Where’s your car?” I ask.

  “I didn’t drive today. Rode with someone else.”

  “Who?”

  “Uh…” He gives me a helpless look. “Courtney.”

  Seriously? “You weren’t in class this morning, but Court was.”

  “Are you saying you missed me?” His brows shoot up. He looks genuinely surprised, all the earlier tension leaving his body.

  “I definitely noticed you weren’t there,” I admit.

  “So you did miss me.” His eyes flash. He looks very pleased at my answer, and my cheeks are going hot. So embarrassing. I need to change the subject quick.

  “Do you, uh, need a ride?”

  His smile is easy and his eyes still sparkle. “That would be great. Thanks.”

  We get into my car and leave school, turning left so we head up toward Hot Springs Road. We climb and climb, talking about the last few days at school and how crazy they were. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, and I start to forget that he’s a suspect. Crap, I’m a suspect, too, so who am I to judge?

  I keep sending him quick looks, trying to notice every little detail. I like how he slouches in the passenger seat, his long legs bent, his thighs spread wide in that way boys sit. He never once looks at his phone during our entire conversation, and I remember how when Robby was with me, he would check his phone fifty times in approximately two minutes.