Pretty Little Devils (19 page)

YRSECRETPAL2BRANDOG: Hi, Brandon! Im at Charlies 2nite. Rendezvous @7:15 PM! Park far. Come in thru study. Wait 4 me.

BRANDOG: El? Hey! Sounds good. Ill B there. Hasta!

 

Hazel's phone vibrated at a little after seven. She was in Charlie's room, messing with his Game Boy, and the jiggling against her hip startled her.

“Okay,” Megan murmured in her ear. “The prank is ready to go. Monkey Boy is in the chair.”

“Okay,” Hazel whispered back. Ellen wasn't there yet, and it was probably all right if they spoke in normal tones of voice. Still, the whispering added to the stealthy vibe of the last and greatest PLD prank.

Ellen was due at seven-thirty, and Carolyn was on duty in the front room. Her job was to watch out the window and call Megan when Ellen was at the door.

“I want to come see,” Hazel said.

“No! Stay where you are,” Megan insisted. “No unnecessary movement. She might show early. You can see afterward.”

“Carolyn will let us know when she's here, right?” Hazel asked.

“Yes,” Megan replied. “And remember, we don't want there to be any shadows on the curtains. So when I say go, get in Charlie's closet.”

“I don't really get why I have to be
inside
—”

“In case she doesn't go to the study right away. What if she checks Charlie's room? She's not supposed to know we're here, Haze.”

Well, duh
. Hazel felt minorly insulted. “But we're not going to draw this out, right? Because it wasn't very funny in the locker room—”

“Haze, chill. It's our last prank. El will be cool with it. She's got a backbone. You've just never seen it.”

“Okay.” Hazel still wasn't convinced.

“Sylvia's in the hall closet closest to the study,” Megan said. “She's got the cordless from the kitchen. When the phone rings, you grab the portable in Charlie's room so you can listen in.”

Hazel had the extension on her lap.

“I'm going to be in the basement so I can turn off the power right after she gets here,” Megan reminded her. “So actually, you might as well get into the closet now. Don't forget your flashlight.”

What if I'm the one being pranked?
Hazel thought.

Hazel had been secretly worried about that ever since the plan was set.

She wouldn't put it past the PLDs to concoct some elaborate hoax—to throw her off balance just to scare the heck out of her.

Maybe they wanted her to hide in the closet so they could turn off the lights and ditch her? Or maybe someone was already hiding in the closet, waiting for her?

“Hazel?” Megan said. “Are you in the closet?”

Hazel hesitated. She picked up her flashlight from Charlie's dresser. Then she walked to the closet and peered inside. No one there. She rummaged among Charlie's things to see if she could find a speaker or a voice chip, some other kind of electronic special effect set up to spook her. Still nothing.

“Hazel?” Megan repeated.

“Yes,” she said quickly, before Megan could ask again. “I'm in here.” She switched the portable to her other hand.

“Okay, I'm getting off my cell now so Carolyn can call me when she sees Ellen. I might be able to warn you with a vibrate-only call, but don't answer it again. And remember, when the portable rings, wait for Ellen to answer the phone and then connect.”

“I'm good to go,” Hazel assured her. She pulled the closet door partway shut and braced herself for the power to go out. She considered sitting cross-legged on the floor. Then her cell vibrated.

She took a breath; Ellen had arrived.

The prank was on.

T
he front door opened. Hazel could hear the jangle of keys and the rustle of Ellen taking off her coat. She had been told that Charlie would be dropped off a little after she arrived, so the empty house made sense.

Hazel listened hard, trying to keep track of Ellen's movements. Then the landline let out a shrill, startling ring. Hazel jumped, dropping it. It smacked her foot.

She grimaced, bending down to squeeze her toes.

Then the light in the closet went out. Megan had turned the power off.

Hazel felt around on the floor, trying to figure out where she'd dropped the portable. She found the phone and picked it up. The prank call was in progress.

“…have them tied up,” a very hoarse voice whispered. “Call the cops and they're dead.”

“Who…what…?” That was Ellen. She sounded terrified.

“I'm the same guy who killed that slut.” Hazel knew it was Megan, but all the same, her voice was chilling.

This wasn't what we agreed to
, Hazel thought.
It wasn't going to be Breona's killer inside the house. Just an intruder.

“Now I'm gonna kill the little boy.”

“I'm calling the police,” Ellen said. “Right now.”

“Call and he's dead. I'll be out of here before they come. I'll leave the way I came. No will see me. And you'll be dead too.”

“Oh God, oh my God…” Ellen trailed off.

God, Megan, be more obvious,
Hazel thought.

There was a muffled sound. It was Sylvia in the hall closet; Hazel figured the noise would draw Ellen toward the study instead of the kitchen.

It worked. Hazel heard Ellen in the hallway and on the phone as well, a strange combination of natural voice and metallic, like a poorly mixed sound track.

“Don't you hurt him!” Ellen's voice was high-pitched, shrill. There was a loud banging, more shouting, only it was a different voice.

“Hey!” It was a guy's voice, familiar. Who was that?

Hazel's first instinct had been right: this was a bad prank. It wasn't funny. She was putting a stop to it—right now.

She shouted into the phone, “Ellen? Ellen, wait!”

Then she heard a sound she couldn't identify—a loud thud.

And then screaming.

Hysterical screaming.

Hazel threw open the closet door and raced out of Charlie's room. She ran into the hall. “Ellen?”

A light flared on wall; Sylvia emerged from the closet with her flashlight. “What's going on? What happened?” she demanded.

The door to the study was open and so was the door beyond it, leading outside. Sylvia pushed past Hazel, raced inside the study. “Oh my God!” she cried.

Hazel ran in after her.

Sylvia's flashlight beam sliced through the shadow, giving Hazel tiny glimpses of the scene.

Ellen sprawled on the floor, gasping.

Charlie's baseball bat at her feet.

“Megan, turn on the lights!” Sylvia bellowed.

The lights switched on.

Hazel covered her mouth with both her hands.

Monkey Boy, with his hideous, laughing face, sat untouched in the study chair. Behind him lay Brandon, sprawled on his back. He didn't move.

Hazel ran to him, crying, “Brandon? Are you okay?”

Sylvia came with her. Hazel fell to her knees. There was no blood, but there was an angry red mark spreading around Brandon's right eye. Hazel cautiously reached out and touched his shoulder; he was still.

She looked at Sylvia, who paled. Hazel carefully raised Brandon's head.

His eyes were open but vacant.

“Brandon?” Hazel called. She looked at Sylvia. “Oh my God. Is he breathing?”

“Oh God, oh God,” Sylvia murmured. “Brandon, can you hear me?”

He didn't answer. Ellen was hunched in the corner, whimpering and crying.

Footfalls thudded down the hallway, and Megan burst into the room. “What's going on?” Her eyes grew wide with terror when they fell on Brandon's body.

“Sylvia?” Megan said in a trembling voice. “How did he get in here?”

Sylvia shook her head, too stunned to speak. Carolyn was standing in the doorway, her arms wrapped around her body, hugging herself.

Megan rushed over, bent down, and said, “Brandon?” She touched his forehead. Then she moved her fingers under his nose. “Oh my God. You guys, he's not breathing!”

“What was he doing here?” Carolyn suddenly demanded. “How did he get in here?”

“He's not breathing,” Hazel repeated steadily. Then her voice rose as everyone stared at her.
“He's not breathing.”

The next few moments were a blur. Someone was holding on to her and crying. She snapped out of her stupor to find herself with her arms around Megan. Sylvia and Carolyn were wrapped around Ellen and holding her tightly.

He's dead. He's dead.
The thought repeated in Hazel's mind. But how could this have happened? How could their prank have gone so horribly wrong?

Carolyn took a deep breath. She looked at Ellen. “What did you hit him with?”

Ellen was beyond answering. Her body shook with deep, soul-crushing sobs.

“Charlie's baseball bat,” Megan filled in. She reached for it.

“Don't touch it,” Carolyn said. “They'll need to dust it for prints.”

“What?”
Hazel said. “Fingerprints? What are you talking about?”

Carolyn took a long, ragged breath. “Ellen killed him,” she said calmly. “We have to call the police.”

E
llen killed him
.

There was a long silence as everyone processed that.

Then Sylvia said, “Charlie's going to be home soon.”

“Oh my God.” Megan stared at the others. “What are we going to do?”

“We have to tell the police,” Carolyn said.

“No! No, please,” Ellen begged. She could barely speak. Her eyes were red and swollen and her face was wet with tears. “It was an accident! I didn't mean to—”

“Besides, this is our fault.” Sylvia looked at each one of them in turn. “If we hadn't planned the prank, this never would have happened. We can't let Ellen take all the blame.”

“But what's
he
doing here?” Megan cried, pointing toward Brandon's body. “How'd he get in?”

“He must have let himself in through the study door,” Sylvia said. “Ellen, did he know you were going to sit Charlie?”

Ellen shook her head. “I…I didn't tell him.” Her eyes widened as she looked at the group. “How did he know? Which one of you told him?”

No one spoke.

Sylvia took a deep breath, exhaling. She stood up straight and raised her chin, reasserting her command. “Okay. We are
not
going to the police with this.”

Everyone looked at her in shock.

“We all had a hand in this. We're all guilty,” Sylvia said.

“It was an accident,” Hazel argued.

“No, it wasn't,” Carolyn said. “Someone told Brandon to come here.”

“Who?” Ellen bellowed. “Who did this?”

“Shut up,” Sylvia snapped. “We were all in on the prank. We're all involved now.” She paused. “Don't you see? Even if it was an accident, they can still send us to jail—
all
of us—for manslaughter.”

Hazel stared at the others. She found a look of horror on each of their faces—an expression that must have reflected her own.

“I can't let that happen,” Sylvia decided. “I'll take care of this.” She whipped out her cell phone and dialed.

“Sylvia, that's ridiculous.” Megan grabbed her wrist. “What are you doing?”

Sylvia stared at her coolly. “Let go of my hand,” she said in an almost conversational tone. “You go head off Charlie. Pick him up at the movie, take him to the diner, and wait till we call you.” She looked at Hazel. “Get Ellen out of here. Get her something to drink.”

Hazel put her arm around Ellen, supporting her. “Come on,” she said gently.

Ellen rose with her, lurching forward. Together they shuffled into the kitchen. On the way, Hazel glanced at the walls, the bookshelves, the gray carpet—a photograph of Charlie and his parents.

Everything felt close and foreign, as if all these strange objects might just collapse in and suffocate them.

In the kitchen, Ellen leaned her back against the counter. She ripped at her cuticle. Blood pooled around the moon of her thumbnail.

Hazel sat down beside her. She gave Ellen a glass or two of wine. Then Hazel switched her to water.

After a while, Carolyn peeked in on them from the doorway. She had a bedsheet clutched in her hands. “What is that for?” Ellen asked, her voice taut with grief.

“Don't worry about it. It's going to be all right,” Carolyn said gently, as if Ellen had a terrible disease. She disappeared into the study again.

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.”

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. She 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.