“And now,” Mrs. Cavanaugh said, “for the main event. Flown in from Montreal especially for my little man’s thirteenth birthday, the star of Cirque du Soleil’s new hit show Le Pitre Triste, Marcel Fontanable!”
A look of terror passed over Rex’s face as a seven-foot-tall Victorian-era clown jumped into view. He wore a bald cap with tufts of reddish brown hair spiking out from each ear, and his face was a mask of white, with dramatic hot-pink triangles above the brows and cheeks, and black hollows of makeup encircling each eye. His lips were painted blue, as if he’d spent the night in a freezer, and overdrawn to such an extent that they looked like collagen injections gone wrong.
His costume consisted of a tight polka -dot jacket topped with a floppy, high-necked collar and frilly tiered bloomers. Lace-up boots completed the outfit, and as he began to move, Kitty realized that his excessive height was the result of short stilts, camouflaged by the boots.
Marcel pirouetted in front of Rex, kicked his leg above his head, and ended in the splits before the fireplace, arms open wide, as flames erupted from his palms.
The audience cheered with more enthusiasm than they’d displayed so far. Everyone but Rex. Kitty could see his knees shaking, his chin quivering, his face turning beet red.
His mother didn’t seem to notice or care. She squealed with delight as Marcel reversed his splits as easily as if he’d been raised up by a crane, tottered around the living room like a drunkard, then produced a cupcake with a sparkler on top and presented it to Rex.
It was as if time stopped. The clown, Mrs. Cavanaugh, and the tweens all stared at Rex, waiting for him to take the cupcake. And with all eyes on him, a dark stain began to appear in the crotch of Rex’s chinos. It grew, spreading down the leg of his pants, while Rex just stood there, paralyzed.
The poor clown stood up, out of character, and looked confusedly from Rex to his mother as the tweens began snickering and pointing.
It was like a switch had been thrown. Rex stamped his foot, pounded his fists against his thighs, and screamed, “I hate you!” then sprinted from the room.
The video went dark, but only for a split second. An image faded onto the screen of Kitty’s phone that made her hands go ice cold.
Black type on a white background.
DGM.
“What the hell is this?” someone asked.
“No idea,” was the reply.
Kitty glanced up, aware that the classroom was rapidly filling with students. Rex, Kyle, and Tyler had taken their seats in the front of the room, and each held their phone in their hands, open to the anonymous email.
“I got it, too,” Tyler said, glancing at his buddies.
“Do you think it’s DGM?” Kyle asked.
“Nah,” Rex said, with a toss of his hair. “That bitch is in jail, remember?”
Then in almost choreographed unison, Rex, Kyle, and Tyler all opened the video link.
Kitty tried to pry her eyes from Rex’s face, but couldn’t. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion: you know the carnage will be unbearable, but you can’t even blink, let alone look away. Around her, the voices of Mrs. Cavanaugh and the birthday guests blared from a half-dozen phones, in the round.
“Are you all ready for the main event?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you all ready for the main event?”
“Yeah.”
Everyone in the leadership class had gotten an email. Could it have gone to the entire school?
“WHAT THE FUCK?” Rex roared. He bolted to his feet, his chair clattering to the floor behind him. His face was bright red, the color growing deeper by the second, and his free hand was balled up into a fist as if he was ready to punch out the person responsible for his humiliation. Just like thirteen-year-old Rex in the video. He spun around, eyes wild with a mix of fear and rage, looking for someone to blame. “Who the fuck did this? Huh? I’ll fucking kill him!”
“This can’t be real,” Tyler said, trying to soothe his furious leader.
“Yeah,” Kyle agreed. “It’s a fake, right?”
Without answering the question, Rex bent down and flipped his desk with both hands, the force so intense it went flying across the room. Then he stormed out, slamming the door behind him.
“I guess that’s his answer.”
Kitty turned to find Mika smiling at her desk. She looked as if she was thoroughly enjoying Rex’s humiliation, as was, Kitty guessed, about 99 percent of the school.
Kitty shook her head. “That’s not possible.” Her voice sounded strange, distant and croaky, like it hadn’t even come from her mouth.
“Are you okay?” Mika placed her hand on Kitty’s arm. Her smiled had vanished. “You look like you’re about to be sick.”
“I think I—”
“What in the name of God is going on?” Father Uberti swept into the room, robes flying, cincture flapping. He wrenched a phone out of Tyler’s hand. “What is everyone watching?”
It was all about to start again: the ’Maine Men witch hunt, the police presence, the interrogations. What were she and Olivia going to do?
Olivia. She had to talk to Olivia right away.
The final bell rang just as Kitty pushed herself to her feet and staggered toward the door. Her legs felt shaky and unsure, but she forced herself to move forward.
“Miss Wei,” Father Uberti cried. “Where do you think you’re going?”
But Kitty didn’t hang around to explain. She broke into a run and sprinted upstairs to the computer lab.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
HarperCollins Publishers
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TWENTY-ONE
OLIVIA DIDN’T BOTHER TO KNOCK, DIDN’T EVEN THINK THAT the door to the computer lab might be locked. She burst through at a full sprint, threw her arms around Kitty’s neck, and hugged her. “Thank God you’re here! What is going on?”
Kitty pulled away; her face was tense and drawn. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think Ed . . .”
Ed the Head barreled into the room, right on cue. “What the hell did you do?” he panted, totally out of breath.
“Us?” Olivia stared at him, momentarily stunned. “You mean you didn’t do this?”
Ed jabbed his thumb at his chest. “Me? No way. I’m a businessman, not a crusader. I don’t give a shit about justice unless it’s profitable.”
“Right,” Olivia said. “Always out for yourself.”
“Let’s assume,” Kitty said, stepping between them, “that no one in the room is responsible.”
A faint knock on the door made Olivia jump. “You guys in there?” John whispered.
“Criminy,” Ed said, flopping into a chair. “Are you selling tickets or something?”
Olivia smiled meekly and unlocked the door for John. He stepped into the room, blinking under the harsh fluorescent lights. His gaze wandered from Olivia to Kitty, then landed on Ed. “Him too?”
Ed lengthened his neck regally. “I was here first.”
Olivia rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. You’re the prettiest.”
Kitty eyed John warily. “How did you know where to find us?”
“I’ve seen Bree sneaking in and out of the second floor of the science building.” John shrugged. “This is the only room that no one uses. And when I saw that video, I thought it might be related to what I got last night.” John swung his backpack off of his shoulder and pulled out a yellow envelope.
“Shit,” Kitty said.
“You got one too?” he asked.
“We all did.” Ed spread his arms wide. “Welcome to DGM.”
“I will destroy everything you love,” John said, quoting the anonymous note. “Kinda creepy.”
Ed waved him off. “Yeah, yeah. Spooky envelope, ominous message.” He held up his index and middle fingers. “The way I see it, we’ve got two options with this new DGM prank. Either the killer is trying to pin this on you, or you’ve go
t a serious case of “I am Spartacus” on your hands.”
John nodded his appreciation. “Nice one.”
Olivia tilted her head. “Huh?”
“Spartacus,” Ed said. “Kirk Douglas? Stanley Kubrick?”
Olivia shook her head.
John laughed. “You’re supposed to be the acting expert. How could you not have heard of this film?”
“I know, right?” Ed held his fist up for a bump that John readily returned.
Olivia was starting to regret letting boys in the clubhouse. “Is this a guy thing?”
Ed rested his elbows on his knees. “Spartacus is a slave in ancient Rome and he incites a rebellion. There’s this scene where the Roman soldiers are looking for Spartacus, and they’re going to start killing people unless they give him up.”
John dropped into a chair next to Ed and began gesturing wildly with excitement as he described the scene. “So Kirk Douglas—he’s Spartacus—he starts to raise his hand so no one else will suffer on his behalf, right? But another dude is all like, ‘I am Spartacus.’ And then another one—‘I am Spartacus.’”
“I am Spartacus!” Ed cried.
“I AM SPARTACUS!” John yelled even louder.
“Shhh!” Kitty hissed. “What’s your point?”
“Spartacus meant something to them,” Olivia said, suddenly understanding the implication. “They were protecting him.”
“And what he stood for,” Ed added.
John nodded in agreement. “Someone’s trying to protect you by carrying on the DGM name.”
Olivia wasn’t sure how she felt about a copycat DGM. Flattered, of course. But this prank against Rex Cavanaugh had the potential to destroy whatever chance she and Kitty had of finding the killer.
“Attention, Bishop DuMaine students,” Father Uberti said over the loudspeaker. There was a tremor in his voice, hinting at his barely contained rage. “All members of the ’Maine Men student group are hereby released from first period and are to report to the leadership classroom immediately. I repeat, all ’Maine Men and anyone interested in joining are to report to the leadership classroom. Now.”
Kitty glanced at her watch. “I have to get back to class.”
“But what should we do about Rex?” Olivia asked.
“Point and laugh?” Ed suggested.
“Not helpful, Ed.” Kitty hauled her bag over her head and pointed directly at John. “Any luck with Amber and the Rolex?”
John shook his head. “So far I haven’t been able to get a word in. That girl hardly pauses for breath, let alone gives me a chance to ask a question.”
“Tell me about it,” Olivia said.
“Double down on her,” Kitty said. “She’ll be feeling vulnerable, so maybe she’ll be more willing to share the details on that watch.”
John saluted. “Aye, aye, Captain.”
Kitty had that focused game-time look in her eyes, which usually meant she had a plan. “Where are you going?” Olivia asked.
Kitty smiled. “I’m going to infiltrate the ’Maine Men.”
Packs of ’Maine Men hurried through the halls and Kitty tucked herself behind a group of upperclassmen, heading to leadership class. She still wasn’t exactly sure if this was a good idea or not. She’d spent the better part of her time at Bishop DuMaine fighting against tyranny and oppression, two things symbolized by the ’Maine Men. Could she really become one of them?
She reached the door to the leadership classroom and took a deep breath. I’m about to find out.
The room was crammed with people. The leadership students sat at their desks, Mika among them, glancing uncomfortably at the legion of guys ringing the room. It was the usual suspects, not exactly a rush of recruits. She recognized a few newbies—a couple of freshman, noticeable for the looks of fear on their faces; the point guard from Donté’s basketball team; a guy from her algebra class; and weirdly enough, Logan Blaine, who stood with his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket, staring at the floor.
Rex, she noted, had not returned.
Mika saw her the second she stepped into the room. She turned to the door, brows pulled together in concern at Kitty’s rapid departure minutes earlier. “You okay?” she mouthed.
Father Uberti didn’t miss it either.
“Miss Wei,” he said. “How nice of you to rejoin us. Where did you run off to after the late bell?”
Great, old F.U. was already irritated with her. That wasn’t going to help her cause. “Ladies room,” she said, blurting out the first thing that came into her mind. Then she remembered that she was going to have to appear sympathetic to his agenda. “I felt sick, you know, after what happened this morning. I thought we were free of this DGM menace once and for all, but now . . .” She let her voice trail off, and shook her head in dismay.
Father Uberti took the bait, hook, line, and sinker. “Yes,” he said with a heavy sigh. “We’ve been dealt a blow today. Which is why I’ve called you all here.”
He turned back to the assembled students, and Kitty slipped into her chair.
Mika leaned forward. “Nice excuse,” she whispered. “You had F.U. eating out of your hand.”
“Yeah,” Kitty replied out of the corner of her mouth. “Totally.”
Crap. What was Mika going to think of her if she up and joined the ’Maine Men? She’d been one of the organizers of the student body protest against Father Uberti and his pet goon squad, and had gotten a day’s suspension over it. Would Mika hate her forever for what she was about to do? Would she ever be able to explain?
And then there was Donté. He’d left the ’Maine Men because he hated their tactics, hated the way they bullied and repressed anyone who didn’t agree with them. Would he understand what she was doing? Or would he despise her for it?
Kitty bit her lip while Father Uberti droned on and on about the menace of DGM, his voice a muted soundtrack to the turmoil raging within her. Mika and Donté. Was she willing to risk both her best friend and her boyfriend?
She pictured the alternative. Margot, unconscious in the hospital. Bree, falsely accused of murder. And a killer who was still out there, waiting to strike again. I will destroy everything you love. What if his next target was Mika? Or Donté? Would she ever be able to forgive herself if she had the opportunity to find out who he was and she didn’t take it?
“Clearly,” Father Uberti said, rapping the desk with the cross that dangled from his cincture as if he was whipping the poor, innocent piece of furniture into submission. “Clearly we haven’t been vigilant enough. These criminals have slipped through our fingers, and now they’ve attacked another student. We need more bodies on the front lines. ’Maine Men, it is time to recruit. Your friends, your family. All able-bodied—”
“I’ll join,” Kitty said. She barely noticed the words flying out of her mouth as every set of eyes in the room turned to face her. “I want to join the ’Maine Men.”
Behind her, she heard Mika gasp.
“Um . . . ,” Father Uberti said, clearly taken aback. “But you’re not . . . What I mean to say is, you’ve got the wrong . . .” He cleared his throat. “Miss Wei, I’m not sure that’s appropriate.”
Oh, for chrissakes, was he seriously balking at her gender? “Because I’m a girl?” she suggested. What was this, 1955?
“Well, yes,” Father Uberti said. “It is the ’Maine Men after all.”
“I think we should let her in,” Kyle said, rising to his feet.
Father Uberti stroked his trim Vandyke beard. “Perhaps it would be good for school morale.”
“What are you doing?” Mika hissed.
Kitty half-turned and gave Mika a look she hoped would adequately transmit her feeling of “I don’t want to do this but I have to” and smiled weakly. “Trust me,” she whispered.
“Huh?”
Father Uberti rapped his cross on the desk three times as if it was a gavel. “All in favor of Kitty Wei becoming the newest member of the ’Maine Men?”
Eve
ry member in the room raised his hand.
“All opposed?”
Kitty held her breath. The entire room was silent.
“Very well.” Father Uberti reached beneath the desk, pulled out a blue shirt wrapped in plastic, and tossed it to Kitty. “Welcome to the team.”
Joining the ’Maine Men was one thing. Actually pulling the heinous blue shirt over her head was something else entirely. It triggered some kind of Pavlovian response: Kitty felt instantly nauseous.
“Now, let’s get to business,” Father Uberti said, grasping the podium with both hands. Then he cleared his throat and launched into a speech about the horrors of DGM.
It was the same speech she’d heard him give at least twice before. How the school needed to band together to stamp out this evil. How it was the students’ responsibility to spy on one another. How anyone with information that led to Bree Deringer’s accomplices would be rewarded. Blah blah blah.
Kitty seriously didn’t have time for this. These tired tactics hadn’t worked before, and they weren’t going to work now. She had to get them moving in a new direction if there was any chance of actually finding out who was behind the new DGM: a killer, a copycat, or something else entirely. So Kitty took a deep breath and raised her hand, right in the middle of Father Uberti’s speech.
He reared back, unused to interruptions. “Miss Wei, do you have a question?”
“A comment,” Kitty said.
“I am all ears.” He sounded anything but.
“It’s just that we’ve tried this before and it didn’t work. Asking students to snitch,, promising rewards. It didn’t get us anywhere.”
Father Uberti narrowed his eyes. “I assume you have a better idea?”
“Yeah,” Kitty said, hoping she wasn’t digging her own grave. This plan had the potential for a colossal backfire. “Yeah, I think I do.”
Father Uberti stepped aside with a dramatic flourish of his arm. “Then by all means, tell us, Miss Wei. Educate us on what we’re doing wrong.”
Kitty rose to her feet, swallowing hard. This was the plan, after all. To infiltrate the ’Maine Men and use them to help her find a killer. And if there was a copycat DGM, this was the best way to protect them, wasn’t it?
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