Lurker (3 page)

Mandy's room was a mess, or so her mother said. The rest of the house was spotless and shining, filled with glass and metal and marble. The only concessions to forestry were the hardwood floors throughout and a series of bookcases in her father's den, but even these were sanitized, the pine having been bleached near white. Everything beyond her bedroom door was modern and cold. Mandy just didn't like it, even though her friends thought the minimalist gleam was cool. In defiance of all things sleek, Mandy had a cherrywood bedroom suite with a matching computer desk. Her bed was covered in a thick fabric with an intricate print of swirling crimson, brown, and gold.
Last year, she had insisted that her mother buy her a deep red cotton rug to cover the floor, because the polished boards made her think of a bowling alley. While her mother kept all the glass and stone tabletops clear, save for the well-placed bronze or crystal knick-knack and silver picture frame, Mandy used the surfaces in her room. Books and magazines, CDs and DVDs, school papers and pictures of her friends were everywhere: on her desk, on her chest of drawers, stacked in neat piles on the floor.

“We can have cabinets built in for all of that,” her mother once said.

Mandy had rolled her eyes and asked her mother to leave.

Though she loved her room, even Mandy had to admit that it was dark that afternoon. The curtains were open, and sunlight poured through. It didn't matter. The room
felt
dark, and Mandy imagined she could be on a sun-drenched beach, and she'd still think it gloomy.

On the bed, Drew flipped through an issue of
Teen People
, not really reading, barely gazing at the pictures. Mandy could tell that her friend was just looking for a distraction from the morning's
bad news. They'd talked all the way home, and this was a quiet pause, a moment for the batteries to recharge.

Poor Drew,
Mandy thought. She was always a little scared of the world, though Mandy didn't know why. Boys absolutely terrified her, and even before this terrible business with Nicki, Drew had hated being alone.

Mandy sat at her computer. She had done a Google search to see if Nicki was on the news yet, but the only mentions said little more than Officer Romero had. Girl abducted. Body found. She checked e-mail and, except for a note from Laurel—
Yeah, Daddy's flippin'. See you next decade.
—her mailbox was empty.
Strange,
she thought. She'd expected to have dozens of e-mails from friends wanting to discuss Nicki, her death, and the cops at school. Mandy thought they should all be talking about this, yet even she couldn't think of who to write to or what to put in a note.

It was all just so weird. This was the kind of thing you saw on the news, like the Middle East. It was something distant, something you understood in the way you understood the moon. Murder existed. It was there. But you never expected it
to come close to you.

Behind her, the television was on. She kept her ears alert, waiting for some news about Nicki, but the big city stations probably wouldn't run the story until five. That was hours away.

“Do you think it was someone from school?” Drew asked, dropping the magazine on the bed. “I mean, do you think anyone here could have done this?”

Mandy didn't know. It should have been impossible to believe—these were people she'd known for years—but the idea was with her now. Maybe freaky Derek with the big ears and the biker jacket had finally snapped, no longer satisfied to just get high and listen to Nu-metal. Peter Harris or Ned Schwartz could have done it. They were so obsessed with video games and horror movies—they'd totally be suspects. It could have been a teacher. Not someone like Mr. Lombard or Mr. Stahlman, who taught English, but Mandy certainly wouldn't put it past Mr. Grohl: even as shop teachers went, he was pretty skeezy. It could have been a woman, she reasoned. After all, no one had said how Nicki was killed. But all of this was silly. These were her friends and her teachers.

“I don't know,” she said. “I guess. I just wish they'd tell us something.”

“I know!” Drew said too loudly. She leaned forward on the bed, her eyes wide. “It's like the worst part because we don't know anything. I mean, was it a drifter? Or like maybe her family? Or a boyfriend or something? It's like they won't tell me who to be afraid of, so I'm afraid of everyone.”

That wasn't exactly new territory for Drew, but Mandy knew what she meant. Without some idea about the cause or the killer, there wasn't much to hold on to in the way of comfort.

“God, it could be
anyone
,” Drew said with more than enough drama to exasperate Mandy.

She was about to say something logical, like
It couldn't be our parents or your brothers or Laurel
, just to contradict Drew's über-paranoia and keep her from bursting into tears again, but her cell phone trilled. Drew leaped off the bed with a yelp. Her hand fanning the air in front of her face like she was trying to get rid of a bad smell, Drew danced from foot to foot.

“Oh my God! That scared me so bad.”

“You need a pill,” Mandy said, sliding over the bed to grab her phone from the nightstand. She
checked the caller ID to make sure Dale wasn't getting his stalker on and saw that the name was blocked. Not Dale. His name came through bright and shiny whenever he called.

“Girl, where are you?” Laurel asked before Mandy finished saying hello.

“I'm at home, where we're all supposed to be. Where are you?”

“I'm in the chat with, like,
everyone
.”

Of course,
Mandy thought. That was why her mailbox wasn't choking on e-mails. Everyone she knew was logged in to one of the school chat rooms. There were two: one that was actually moderated by school staff, and one that was independent of the Lake Crest website, which was the best place to learn about parties and anything else parents and teachers weren't supposed to know about.

“Official or un?” Mandy asked.

“Please,” Laurel said. “Only bottom-feeders use the official site. Now log on. Is Drew with you?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, slide your butts to the screen. I've never seen this place bangin' so hard.”

And Laurel was right. More than thirty kids had logged in to the room. Mandy told Drew to slide
the bench at the end of her bed over so she could see. Once she had, they both scanned the user-names and found they recognized all of them.

“Jacob's signed on,” Drew said, all but gushing the name of the boy she'd been crushing on for the last two years.

“Still needing that pill,” Mandy said, bumping Drew with her shoulder.

“What are they saying?”

The truth was, Mandy couldn't tell. Lines of text were rolling up the screen so fast she couldn't keep up with it all. She saw variations of Nicolette's name—Nicki and Naughty Nic—and words like
murdered
,
stabbed
,
shotgun
, but just as her eyes would lock on to a line, it was gone.

“It's like they just want to get it all out,” Mandy said. “They don't care if anyone can read it or not.”

“Say hi to Jacob.”

“Not.”

“What did that line say? Something about her being raped? Oh God. She was raped!”

“They don't know, Drew. Calm down. None of us knows anything yet.”

An IM window opened on the screen; it was from Laurel.

“I'm not going out in the dark,” Drew exclaimed right into Mandy's ear. “Are they crazy? Why don't they just hand us over to the guy with a chainsaw and say ‘Happy birthday, Chucky'?”

“There are going to be a billion people there, Drew.”

Mandy closed the window, returning her attention to the rolling lines of text filling the chat
room. She decided to scroll to the top and read what had come in since signing on; she'd never be able to keep up with the new comments. But as she read through, she discovered that her first feeling had been right. Her friends were just venting. They shared their fondest memories about Nicolette.

She kissed me on the nose and said “Nope, no prince.”

She told my mom that donuts were pure carbs, and when Mom said she had a fast metabolism, N said that apparently her metabolism hadn't let her ass in on that information.

She designed fliers for me when my cat got lost.

She danced with me at the junior prom.

She walked me home when that a**hole Joe dumped me.

She always smiled.

I really, really, really miss her already.

Scattered among these reminiscences were speculations about Nicki's fate. Only now, no one believed the cause of her death was accidental.

And of course, amid all of the fond memories and the wondering were fear and anger.
If I catch
that SOB, I'm going to tear his head off. They ought to open him up and fill him with scorpions, drag behind my car, needles in his eyes, baseball bat to the nuts.
Over two dozen variations on these could be found, though it was unanimously agreed that anything they could come up with was “too good for the bastard.”

“Oh God, look what Jacob said.”

Mandy scrolled back, looking for Jacob Lurie's screen handle and the message beside it. When she found it, she groaned and shook her head.

I'd pound his face.

“He would too,” Drew assured her.

“Jacob weighs like fifty pounds.”

“He's wiry.”

“In this case
wiry
means
toast
.” Mandy ignored Drew's whining protest. “There's nothing here. They're all just guessing.”

A new IM window opened. Mandy's heart clenched when she saw Dale's username. Very aware of Drew's presence at her back, Mandy kept it cool. Neither Drew nor Dale needed to know how upset she was.

“I bet,” Mandy said. Part of her wanted to write,
U seemed more worried about other girls last night
. Or maybe something simple like
Whatever
. Instead, she just closed the window.

“You should answer him,” Drew said. “We're all pretty freaked.”

“So?” Mandy asked.

“I just thought…” Drew let the sentence die on her lips.

“Let me recap,” Mandy said. “The dumbass was flirting with some girl in a chat room. He invited her to his house to watch DVDs, and he didn't even bother closing the IM window so I wouldn't see it. So, he is either astronomically stupid or he let me see it to be mean. Neither of these things is high on my list of coolicious boyfriend traits. Now he thinks that I'm going to let him talk me out of dumping him because something terrible happened, and that brings us right back to astronomically stupid.”

“Okay,” Drew said. “God. Who needs a pill now?”

“Everyone,” Mandy said in frustration. “They can hand them out at the vigil tonight.”

“Are you really going?”

“Yes,” she said. “And you should too. Nicki was one of us.”

“They'll have a funeral,” Drew said quietly.

“It's not the same. The funeral is to say good-bye. This is to show how much she meant to us.”

Drew nodded, her eyes now soft with understanding. Then, she pointed a finger at the computer screen over Mandy's shoulder.

Mandy turned to find another IM window open. No tone had sounded to alert her, or at least she hadn't heard one, but there was the window. At first she figured it was just Dale with another stupid message, but she quickly saw that the screen handle was not familiar.

“Who the hell is this?” Mandy said aloud.

Drew pushed in close to look over her shoulder. “Somebody named Kyle?”

“Well, that clears everything up,” Mandy said. “Do you know him?”

“No. I mean, not unless it's Kyle from biology class.”

“This isn't his username.”

“Say hi.”

Mandy shrugged.

“Check his profile,” Drew said. “He might be hot.”

“Have you ever met anyone who put ‘hideously deformed' in their profile?” Mandy asked.

“Well, he might have loaded a picture.”

“I'm just not caring right now. He's probably some looz surfing keywords or something.”

Mandy closed the window.

“I'll bet he was hot,” Drew said. She stood from the dressing bench and returned to the bed, where she dropped down hard on the covers. When she stopped bouncing on the mattress, she rolled onto her back. “What if he was like this absolutely perfect guy? And it was fate that he messaged you, and now you'll never know because you deleted him, and he's gone forever?”

“Happens all the time.” Mandy clicked on her away message so she didn't have to deal with any more instant messages. “I'll have to find some way to live with it.”