The Good Girls (11 page)

Josh met her gaze, but then the EMT stepped in the way. “Are you family?”

She shook her head.

“A girlfriend?”

Caitlin drew back. It wasn't her job to ride with Josh to
the hospital. Not anymore. She froze, the finality of the end of their relationship suddenly very real. “No,” she said quietly. “I'm not.”

The EMT closed the door with a loud clang. Its lights flashing, the ambulance let out one loud
whoop
of the siren, turned out of the driveway, and sped up the main road.

THE FOLLOWING MONDAY MORNING, JULIE
sat in her car, idling in the parking lot of Beacon High. Kids were gathering in clumps to recap their weekends. School buses huffed at the curbs, doors were slamming, and a group of girls stood by the art wing with a large banner bearing Lucas Granger's face. The first bell blared, indicating that there were fifteen more minutes until homeroom began.

She totally wouldn't be ready in fifteen minutes.

Julie buckled her seat belt and put the car back in drive. Then she felt a hand on hers. “Hey. You can do this.”

She looked up. Carson had wanted to pick her up this morning, but she'd insisted on picking him up instead, so she could make a quick getaway in the middle of the day if she needed to. “Come on,” he said, with a warm smile. “I'll be with you every step of the way.”

Julie looked cautiously at the students streaming into the building. “I don't know,” she whispered. “I can't face Ashley.”

“Yes, you can. If we see her, we'll just turn and go in the other direction, okay? Or even better, we'll
face
her, and tell her what a pathetic bitch she is.”

Julie's eyes flicked to the girls holding the Granger banner. She hadn't been back to school since Granger was killed, and she'd assumed that stuff would have started to blow over by now. But it seemed like there were more Granger groupies than ever.

“Come on.” Carson opened the car door. With a long sigh, Julie turned off the ignition, grabbed her purse and books, and followed him into school.

It had only been a little over a week since she was last here, but Beacon High felt different—and
looked
different. There was a new fern in the lobby. There were all sorts of Granger posters in the halls. And Julie was different, too. When she'd left, she had still been Perfect Julie Redding, with a constant stream of people following her down the hall. Now she was dirty and shameful, leaving only the stench of cat piss and rotten food in her wake. At least that's how she felt.

They made their way down the hall, Julie walking with her head down, Carson leading her by the elbow. “Julie!” someone called from behind her.

Julie flinched at the sound of her name, certain it was Ashley. But when she turned, her good friend Nyssa Frankel stood waving at her. Natalie Houma was by her side, sporting a totally normal smile.

“Did you study for the chem test?” Nyssa asked in a singsong. “I'm so screwed. Like, who needs to know how to balance equations?”

“Um, no . . .” Julie stammered, feeling dizzy. “I mean, yes, I studied. A little. But I think it's going to be hard.”

“You're coming on Friday, right?” Natalie chimed in. “You got my email, didn't you?”

“Friday?” Julie had no idea what they were talking about. More than that, why were they acting so normal, not even mentioning the fact that she'd been gone a week? Then she remembered that Natalie
had
sent an email. Several, in fact. But Julie hadn't read them.

“My Halloween party,” Nyssa explained. “We need to talk costumes at lunch. I'm thinking maybe sexy superheroes. Or sexy Disney princesses?”

“You can't make
everything
sexy, Nyss,” Natalie teased, rolling her eyes at Julie. “Right, Julie?”

“Um . . .” The second bell, which indicated they had only five minutes before homeroom, rang before Julie had a chance to answer. Natalie just shrugged and scampered off with Nyssa, both of them waving Julie good-bye. Julie turned to Carson, an astonished look on her face. “I can't believe it.”

Carson grinned. “See?” He leaned down and kissed her softly on the cheek. “I told you you'd be fine. So this means you'll go to Nyssa's Halloween party with me on Friday night? Maybe as a sexy Cinderella?” he teased.

Julie felt herself laugh. “Definitely not as Cinderella,” she said, shoving him playfully. She couldn't believe she was even thinking of going to that party. But maybe she could.

They walked to Julie's locker, which to Julie's amazement wasn't covered with evil messages or pictures of cats. Then Carson checked his watch and made a face. “Listen, I hate to do this to you, but I left a book in my locker. I really need it.”

Julie blinked at him. Carson's locker was clear on the other side of campus, and her first class was in this building. If she went with him, she'd be late. If he stayed with her, he'd be late. “Um . . .” she said. She glanced around nervously. Her classmates were chatting, slamming locker doors, cramming last second with their noses buried in thick textbooks, sending hurried texts before the second bell. No one was paying any attention to her, and for the first time in a long time, that was a good thing.

It's fine. No one cares.
Then Julie spotted Parker down the hall and felt even better. Parker had stayed with her last night, but she'd disappeared sometime this morning—while Julie was in the bathroom, nervously throwing up.
She hadn't expected Parker to actually show up at school.

“Go get it,” she told him, tucking her shiny hair behind her ears. With Parker as backup, she would be fine. “I'll be okay.”

Carson looked worried. “Are you
sure
?”

Julie nodded, watching as Parker drifted down the hall toward her. “I have to try it sometime, right?”

He kissed her again. The scent of his shampoo—something coconutty and delicious—washed over her. “I'll see you after class, okay? I'll be waiting right here.” He headed quickly down the hall.

Julie caught Parker's arm as she passed, and Parker spun around. Her face was in shadow under her hood, but she looked different somehow. It took Julie a moment to place the expression on her friend's face, but when she did, it was a total shock. Parker looked
happy
. “Hey!” Parker exclaimed, patting Julie's shoulder. “You made it!”

“You made it, too,” Julie said.

“Yeah, I figured I'd show up.” Parker snorted sarcastically, but the corners of her mouth turned up ever so slightly. Before Julie could pester Parker about why she was in such a good mood, Caitlin, Mac, and Ava swept toward them in a group hug.

“Welcome back!” Caitlin crowed.

“Good morning, girl.” Ava waved, a stack of bangles clattering together on her slim wrist. “Nice to see you here.”

“We missed you,” Mac said earnestly, wrapping a hand around Julie's arm and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“Thanks, guys.” Julie was totally overwhelmed by their support.

“So. Lunch. You and us.” Caitlin was using her tough soccer captain tone. “No discussion.”

“We'll meet you here.” Ava nudged a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “Sound good?”

Julie spun the dial of her locker, about to tell them that she had lunch plans with Natalie and Nyssa. But as the final number of the lock fell into place, she sensed that the hallway had gone quiet. She looked over her shoulder for a split second, thinking the hall had cleared out, but it was still full of kids—kids watching
her.
At the same time, she heard a snicker a few feet down the hall.

Her heart began to pound. Maybe she'd spoken too soon, telling Carson she was okay. Her fingers curled on the lever that opened her locker, and there was a sharp
click
as she opened the door. The latch went slack in her hand, and the locker door swung open. There was no time to stop it. Julie felt the
ping
. . .
ping
. . .
ping
of something small and pebble-like hitting the tops of her shoes, and then an avalanche of grit and dust gushed out of her locker, covering her up to the ankles and coating the entire front of her dress with a gray film. A familiar scent rose up from the floor, coating the inside of her nostrils.

Kitty litter.

Julie's mouth dropped open, and a puff of scented powder landed on her tongue. She gagged. Ava shrieked, just as Mac leaped backward, horrified, her hands flying to her face, her mouth hanging open in an alarmed
O
. Parker stood next to them, her hands clenched into fists, her face red with fury. A few final grains of litter fell to the ground; the tinkling sound boomed in the stunned silence.

Then, as if on cue, Julie heard the first titter from a few feet away, then the next, then fully formed guffaws and a chorus of
Holy shit
and
Dude, that was awesome!
A huge crowd had formed. Julie made out the faces of Nyssa and Natalie, who, aside from the film studies girls, seemed like the only people who weren't laughing. Their eyes bulged as they stared at her, looking concerned but helpless.

A cluster of juniors parted as someone pushed through to the front of the crowd. And then there she was: wearing a Julie-esque wrap dress, her hair in Julie-like ringlets, and with a smug, triumphant, hideous grin. Ashley, the girl who haunted Julie's nightmares. A handful of girls surrounded her, wearing the same cruel expression. They all giggled nastily.

“Welcome back, Miss Julie,” Ashley crowed. “And here. I thought you might want this.” She sauntered up to Julie and placed something on her head. Julie swatted at it, her fingers touching plastic. It was a
litter box
. Kids howled
with laughter, and she heard the telltale snap of iPhones taking photos.

Julie teared up, wishing she had something to say, some way to shut them all up. But instead all she could do was knock the litter box to the ground, wade out of the Tidy Cats sea, and push through the nearest door to the parking lot.

She ran a few steps, more grains of kitty litter spilling off her clothes. She could tell kids were watching her from the windows, laughing. Once she was far enough away, she let out a wrenching sob. How could she have been so stupid? She had known in her gut that she should never have come back to school today. But she'd let Carson—sweet, clueless Carson—convince her.

Suddenly, something horrible struck her: What if Carson was
in
on this? He'd been the one to convince her to come back, after all, and he'd abandoned her at her locker.

But before she could think that through, Julie felt someone grip her firmly on the upper arm. “Goddammit—” she barked, shaking off the hand and spinning around, ready to fight whoever had come out here to torment her more. But she was face-to-face with Parker, who looked as angry and vengeful as Julie felt. Parker grabbed Julie and hugged her hard, as though she was holding onto Julie against a storm.

“I can't believe that bitch did this to you,” Parker snarled. “She's going
down
.”

“It's so horrible,” Julie said, the tears falling freely now. Parker was the only one she ever let see her cry. “All that kitty litter . . . all those kids laughing . . .”

Parker pulled Julie closer as her shoulders racked with sobs. “I'll do anything for you, Julie,” she whispered into Julie's ear. “You just say the word, and she'll pay.”

Julie considered it for a moment, then pulled back. Parker's face was wild, and for a moment, Julie was suddenly afraid of her. “No,” she said, placing an arm on Parker's shoulder. “We're better than that.”

“I know.” Parker took a deep breath. “But I
wish
we could,” she whispered. “I wish, just once, people would get what's coming to them.”

THAT AFTERNOON, MAC, AVA, AND
Caitlin stood shoulder to shoulder on the cracked, weedy sidewalk in front of Julie's house. Clearly they weren't the first ones who had visited since Ashley sent out Julie's address in her email blast:
Hoarder
was spray-painted across the cracked driveway, and
Get Out of Town, Dirty White Trash
had been scrawled across the garage door. Skinny, mangy cats wove in and out of the random holiday decorations in the front yard as though they were big scratching posts. Several junked vehicles stood on blocks in the side yard. The grass hadn't been cut in ages; it was full of dandelions, and probably ticks.

This wasn't a place Mac ever wanted to visit. But Julie's Subaru was in the driveway—she was home. And they needed to make sure she was okay.

Mac felt terrible for Julie. Before she'd gotten to know her in film studies, she'd always admired her from afar—Julie was this glowing, friendly, beautiful girl who always wore the perfect clothes and said the perfect thing. It was amazing that the entire time she'd been hanging on by such a thread and concealing such an enormous secret. But Mac understood why she had. This was Beacon, after all, home to kids whose parents were cutthroat CEOs, Nobel laureates, and heirs to Fortune 500 companies. There was no room for imperfection in Beacon, and certainly not for hoarding.

Mac's phone beeped, and she looked at the screen.
What are you up to?
Oliver had texted.

Her heart sank. She wanted to like Oliver, she really did. And he'd been so nice after the make-out fail outside the Thai place, texting her casually, sending funny emoji texts. But every time she saw his name on her phone, she just felt . . . nothing. Shouldn't she be more excited if she actually liked him? Why, instead, did Blake's face always pop into her mind? She kept thinking of that card he'd written. The ChapStick he kept in his guitar case for a good-luck charm.

“Well, let's go,” she said to the others, dropping her phone in her pocket without replying. She started up the walkway, eyeing a shifty-looking cat who had stopped, paw in the air, on the brown grass before slinking into a dirt-caked, deflated kiddie pool. The other girls followed
behind her, and she pressed the rusty doorbell, which let out a metallic scraping sound. A shadow passed behind the curtain in the front window, but no one appeared. After a moment, Mac pushed the bell again. Still nothing.

“She has to be in there,” Ava whispered. “Her car's here.”

They all started when the curtain flew open, yanked back by an unseen hand. Julie's swollen, puffy-eyed face appeared in the window. She looked like she'd been crying since she left school that morning. It was as if a light had gone off in her, and now she was dulled, broken. Without a word, Julie disappeared from the window. For a second, Mac was afraid she had retreated back into her house, but then the door groaned open.

A damp, foul smell escaped the house and washed over the porch. Julie stood in the doorway wearing her bathrobe, its crisp whiteness practically glowing against the backdrop of junk, trash, and health hazards that loomed behind her. Her shoulders slumped, and her hands hung limply by her sides.

No one spoke for a moment, until Ava broke the awkward silence. “We came to take you for a mani-pedi!” she chirped, too perkily.

Julie fixed her eyes on the floor, where a small tribe of cats had gathered near her slippered feet. “Uh, no offense, but no one's looking at my nails.”

Mac reached out a consoling hand to Julie's arm. “Danishes at that awesome new bakery in town, then. The evening batch comes out of the oven right around now.”

Julie shook her head sadly. “Thank you. But I'm not leaving.
Ever
.” Her shoulders heaved up and down. “Sorry, guys. I'm just going to go back to sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Caitlin asked quietly. Julie nodded. “Well . . . call us, okay?” Caitlin added. “For anything. Even if it's super late at night.”

There was nothing else to do but retreat down the path to their cars. Ava and Caitlin had come together—Ava had offered to give Caitlin a ride since she lived close. They called out good-bye to Mac and drove off. But Mac hesitated. Slamming her car door, she turned back to Julie, who was still standing on the porch, staring blankly out at the street.

“I know how it feels,” she said, then winced. That wasn't exactly true. “I mean, I've been teased, too. Humiliated.”

Julie blinked. “Yeah?” she said, in a small voice.

Mac took a step back toward the house. “By Nolan Hotchkiss. It's why I . . . you know. Went along with everything.” She glanced around, wondering if she should be saying this out loud, outside, but it didn't seem like there was anyone around. The Redding house was probably the type of place most neighbors avoided
walking
past if they could.

Julie cocked her head slightly. Then she glanced over her shoulder into the house. “Do you want to . . . come in?” she asked, a little hesitantly.

“I'd love to,” Mac said quickly, worried Julie would change her mind.

The house smelled like mildew, cat pee, and the dead mouse that had festered under the dishwasher at the bagel place Mac worked at last summer. But Mac pretended it didn't bother her. She kept her gaze straight ahead, trying not to gape at the towers of boxes and stacks of ripped, ugly furniture and piles of clothes that reached to the ceiling. Julie edged down the hall, turning sideways at particularly narrow points. “Cat box,” she said, pointing to a litter box in Mac's way that was so clumped there was hardly a dry spot left. Then she opened a door at the end of the hall. “Here. This is my room,” she said, her cheeks pink with embarrassment.

Mac walked through and gasped. Unlike the rest of the house, Julie's room smelled like perfume and fresh laundry. Two neatly made beds were side-by-side in the corner, and the books on the shelves had straight spines. It was like she'd stepped into a different house. A different
universe
.

“It's so nice in here,” Mac blurted.

“Yeah, unlike everywhere else.” Julie sat on the bigger of the two beds. “You know, I've never had anyone else in here . . . except for Parker.” Her gaze moved to an
army-green backpack across the room, then she shrugged.

“So you told Parker about . . .” Mac gestured toward the hall.

A regretful look clouded Julie's face. “Yeah, though not at first. I should have told her sooner. It brought us a lot closer.”

She heaved a huge sigh. Mac was about to ask what she was feeling—all the Parker stuff had to have taken its toll on Julie—but then Julie said, “So what did Nolan do to you?”

Mac cleared her throat. “Oh, just pretended he was into me to make some money from his friends.”

Julie's eyes widened. “
God.
I'm so sorry.”

“Yeah, well.” Mac fiddled with her purse, the memory rushing back to her. “I just know what it feels like, is all,” she said, peeking at Julie. “To think one thing, to have your life going one way, and then to have the rug snatched out from under you . . . and everyone laughing at your expense.”

Julie flopped onto her bed. “The worst was that I went to school today and thought everything would be fine. I'm such an idiot. I
know
Beacon. I know what everyone here is capable of.”

“Not everyone,” Mac urged. “You have us.” She looked away, thinking back to Nolan, how she'd wanted so desperately to think he was really into her. “But I get it,” she
added. After all, Nolan wasn't even the worst—look what Claire had done, plotting to mess up her Juilliard audition. And they were supposed to be
friends
.

She shifted her weight on the bed, and suddenly her purse tipped over and a bunch of things toppled out. A hairbrush skidded across the floor, followed by Mac's wallet. She dove to collect the stuff, embarrassed to mar Julie's perfect space. Then Julie said, “What's that?”

Mac followed her gaze. The card Blake had given her the other day had fallen out. It splayed open, displaying Blake's heartfelt message inside. Mac quickly snatched it up, but by the look on Julie's face, she'd probably seen some of it.

Her ears burned red. She lowered her eyes, feeling a sudden onslaught of tears. She hadn't told any of the film studies girls about the Blake thing. She hadn't told anyone. It was too confusing, and she was too ashamed of her part in it.

“Want to talk about it?” Julie said softly, a concerned look on her face.

“No!” Mac cried. Then she shook her head. “I mean, god, I don't want to bug you with my problems. I'm here to make sure
you're
okay.”

“Please, I
need
a distraction.” Julie hitched forward. “What's going on? It's a guy, isn't it?” she said knowingly.

Mac stared at her checkerboard Vans. All at once, it
was like a volcano rumbled inside her, threatening to burst. “It's Blake Strustek,” she blurted. “He's been a friend for years, and I've loved him for years, but now it's all ruined.”

She spilled out the whole story about Blake—how she'd had a crush on him first but Claire had started dating him; how, according to Blake, Claire had lied and said Mac wasn't into him. How they were in a band together, and lately, something had started between them—behind Claire's back. How she'd never meant to hurt Claire. But when she got to the part about Claire and Blake tricking her in order to sabotage her Juilliard audition, Julie's mouth dropped open.

“That's
not
how best friends treat each other!” she cried.

“Don't I know it,” Mac said darkly.

Julie crossed her arms over her chest. “Now it makes sense why you mentioned Claire that day at film studies. I'd always wondered.”

Mac winced at the memory of that conversation. As soon as she'd said Claire's name, she'd felt horrible—especially because Claire had been right across the room and could have
heard.
She'd just been so angry at Claire that day, though—she'd seen her and Blake canoodling in the hall, and all of her feelings of betrayal and resentment had rushed to the surface.

“I should have never said that . . . I was just having a bad day,” she sighed. “It's not like I actually want her
dead
.”

“Of course you don't,” Julie said firmly.

“And, I mean, just because I said it doesn't mean it's going to come true,” Mac said loudly, thinking of the theory Caitlin had brought up the other day at Ava's.

“Of course not,” Julie said. But then she shifted awkwardly. “Still. I hate that those names are even out there, on that notepad. And, I mean, two out of the five people we named are . . . you know.” She averted her eyes.

“No one can link that to us,” Mac said quickly. She needed to say it out loud, somehow, to undo the jinx. “It's too crazy of a theory. No one would pick off the people we named. It doesn't make any sense. No one hates all of us like that . . . or everyone we named like that.”

Mac's phone rang, and she looked at the screen. Her mom was calling. Suddenly, she remembered that she'd made plans to go out to dinner with her parents—more Juilliard celebrations. She stood up, slipping the phone in her pocket. “I have to go,” she said sadly, looking at Julie. “Are you going to be okay?”

Julie nodded. “Thank you for staying and talking with me. It helped, really . . . having you here.”

Mac nodded and started out of Julie's room, hating that she was leaving Julie inside such a small space. She navigated around the boxes and the cats, and soon enough she was outside again, breathing fresh air. But her chest was still heaving, and she knew why. It was all the talk about
the list, and that terrible conversation.

She wondered, suddenly, what Claire was doing right now. Was she at home? Was she safe?
Should
Mac worry about her? It was ironic—the girl she hated, the girl who hated
her,
might be the person who needed her the most right now.