Pretty Crooked (21 page)

Cherise snorted. “Hooligans? Could she be any more of a lamecakes?”

“It’s not funny, Cherise,” Nikki shot back at her. “I lost four hundred bucks.”

“I’m not making fun of
you
. Besides, how do you know for a fact it was stolen? Are you sure you didn’t just spend it?” Cherise asked with a teasing smile.

Nikki narrowed her eyes at Cherise. “I’m
sure
. Why would I make something like that up?”

“You guys, shut your faces,” Kellie said, annoyed. “I’m trying to hear this.”

The reporter took over again, addressing the camera. “While officials say they don’t know whether the crimes are the work of an individual or a group, they say they’re concerned about copycat crimes, particularly now that the media has gotten hold of the story.”

Oh God
, I thought.
This is so much worse than I thought
.

The camera panned to the courtyard, where a small crowd of students stood capturing a day in the life at VP. Then it cut to a shot of Aidan. I gulped in some air.

He was wearing a military-style jacket and smiling at the camera, completely relaxed. Looking totally seks. It was as if he had spent his whole life on TV. “I’m not surprised this is happening, to be frank with you,” he said. Beneath him in white lettering flashed the words
Aidan Murphy, Valley Prep student
.

The reporter nodded and prompted Aidan to keep talking. “We have a situation here where they’re throwing in scholarship students with students who have a dozen servants and guaranteed trust funds for their unborn children. Naturally, there’s going to be some tension. And if the school can’t address these issues in an honest way, they’re going to come out somehow.” I pulled my arms tighter around my chest, feeling Aidan’s words encircle me. He totally got it. I felt like he was staring straight into my eyes as he continued talking into the camera. “I think this person stealing—whoever they are—is just trying to exact some justice.”

“God, he’s such an attention whore,” Nikki said.

“Sssshhh!” Kellie hissed for what felt like the fifth time.

“This may be just what the school’s officials fear as a worst-case scenario,” the reporter was saying. “That a few pranksters will start glorifying this behavior, and excuse what, in the eyes of the law, is still a serious crime. Bob? Back to you.”

“What’s wrong, Willa?” Cherise asked, turning to me. “You look spaced-out.”

“I—I guess I’m just shocked that this is happening.” I didn’t specify what I meant by “this.”

“I’m so pissed,” Nikki said, chucking a tasseled pillow at the TV. “I feel, like, violated.”

“Those Busteds can’t get away with it,” Kellie said, standing up suddenly and blowing up a sigh to her bangs. “Look what they’ve done to Nikki. And who’s next? They marched into our school like they owned it, and now they’re stealing our stuff. I say we take matters into our own hands.”

I stared up at the ceiling, trying to ground myself. I felt the situation—the room—spinning out of my control. I had to speak up now, even if it gave me away. “How do you know it’s the Busteds?” I asked, practically choking on the last two words. They were so ugly.

“Who else would it be, Willa? The tooth fairy?” Kellie marched over to her bag and pulled out her laptop. At the same time, Nikki pulled out her phone.

“What are you doing?” Cherise asked, looking over Kellie’s shoulder as she tapped on the keyboard.

“I’m posting something, idiot.”

“Wait a minute,” Cherise said, squinting at the screen. “Did you just log in as admin? The Buzz is
your
blog?”

Kellie whipped around. “Are you
spying
on me?” She let out a strangled sound that was either a laugh or a cluck of disgust. “Good work. You figured it out, Sherlock. I can’t believe it took you this long.”

I blinked rapidly. So Kellie was not only posting on
this thing—
she was running the entire show
. ValleyBuzz, the source of all evil in our school, was coming directly from her. But why was I even surprised at this point?

“Can you imagine, you guys? One of those girls going through your stuff?” Kellie said, clicking on her mouse and staring into the screen. “Like, think about them rifling through your bag or your car. No amount of dry cleaning would remove the scum. Actually, that’s good, isn’t it? That’s what I’m going to write. I just need to get a photo of Alicia…”

“I think there’s one on Facebook we can steal,” Nikki said, leaning in to look over her shoulder.

Cherise stood up and put on her jacket. “I’m not going to sit here and watch you guys blog. I’m out of here.”

“Oh, c’mon, Cherise. You’re going to take a stand?” Kellie stared her down. “Against what?
The truth?
That’s real mature.”

“I’m taking a stand against your obnoxious site. And we don’t know what the truth is, do we, Kellie?”

“I’ll say we have pretty good evidence. How about those new clothes? Where else would they get the money for them? Don’t tell me you believe that lame anonymous-package story?”

“You don’t know what evidence is. This is all conjecture. Just because you have it out for these girls for some bizarre reason. Maybe Aidan was right, that someone is trying to even things out.” I’d been watching them volley words this whole time, but at the sound of Aidan’s name
and the mention of his theory, I had to look away from Cherise. “Did you ever think that maybe you started this whole thing with your nasty blog?”

“Me?
I
didn’t start
anything
. It’s not my fault they don’t fit in,” Kellie spat.

“You’re right, Kellie. Because nothing is ever your fault, is it? There’s always someone to take the blame for you,” Cherise said, storming out of the room and leaving a wake of angry silence.

I was angry, too. My hands had involuntarily closed into fists. All the screens in the room, the TVs and Kellie’s computer and Nikki’s phone, were blinding-bright patches of light. Somehow, though, my mind was reading everything with perfect clarity.

I couldn’t give up now, could I? I was going to have to do one more hit. Send a message. Set the record straight. There was no way I was going to let Mary and Sierra and Alicia take the blame for what I’d done.

“Are you coming with me, Willa?” Cherise called to me from the other room.

“Yeah,” I said, grabbing my bag.

“See, the beauty of having this blog is that I can post about whoever I want,” Kellie said quietly, looking at me as I stood up to leave. “When someone bothers me, I just need to write a few words. It doesn’t even have to be true—once it’s in print it may as well be.”

She smiled with eerie calm and I felt her icy tone chill me to the bone.

“But I do have to be careful, because it’s easy to ruin people’s lives. Too easy, you know?”

I broke away from her fixed stare and headed for the door, the words reverberating in my head. It was a classic Kellie threat, because Kellie was all about getting whatever she wanted.

And that
, I thought,
is exactly why you’re next on my list
.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

JUDGMENT DAY WAS coming. For weeks, there had been anxious whispers in the hallways about end-of-quarter grades. Sure enough, on Thursday my transcript was waiting for me when I got home from school, sitting on the kitchen table in an innocent white envelope. I quickly pulled it out of the mail pile, ripped open the flap, and yanked out the VP-stamped paper inside.

Somehow, in between stealing money and pilfering goods from students, I’d managed to do pretty well in my first quarter of classes. Really well. I traipsed through the house to find my mom on a ladder in her office, changing one of the recessed lightbulbs. I left the transcript on her desk without comment and went into my room. Approximately forty-five seconds later, the squealing began.

“Oh my God, Willa! A three-point-eight? You rocked it!” She appeared in my doorway, a huge smile broadening her face.

We hugged and I felt just how tiny her bones were in her oversized shirt. She was still claiming that she hadn’t been feeling well, and that was why she’d dropped a few pounds. I’d asked her repeatedly to go to the doctor and she’d blown me off. I just didn’t know what to think.

I sat back down on my bed. “I’m pretty psyched,” I said. “Though I guess technically I could have done a little better in trig.”

“I’m so proud of you. We need to celebrate.”

“Yeah?”

“Put your shoes back on. I was going to make us a salad, but forget that. I’m taking you out to dinner tonight.” She went to get changed.

Within an hour we were in the car driving into Phoenix, where there was a Mediterranean restaurant my mom had heard about. It was called Victor’s and it was at the foot of the mountains in The Beekman, a fancy resort hotel. Outside, the building was covered in stucco like a Southwestern version of an Italian villa, with flowering vines cascading down the front. Inside, a maître d’ in a vest and tie greeted us, leading us across a cavernous room with beamed ceilings and candlelit tables. A Vivaldi concerto played in the sound system overhead.

I frowned at her as we entered. “Are you sure you want to eat here?”

“Why not?”

“It’s kind of … romantic.” As I said it, my mind flashed to Aidan. Ridiculous, right?

Once I’d batted that thought away, I wondered, briefly, whether she’d been here before with someone else.

Like Mr. Tar-Szhay.

She put her arm around me. “Well, it got amazing reviews in the paper and I wanted to treat my main girl.”

I beamed at her, happy I could make her so happy. I hadn’t exactly been a model citizen lately—not that she knew anything about that, but still, it felt good to be doing something she could be proud of.

We sat down on plush upholstered chairs and the maître d’ handed us menus.

“So get whatever you want, okay? Foie gras. Lobster. Steak. Well, maybe we should see what the market price is on the lobster first.”

It was great to be out with my mom—it felt like it had been a long time since we’d had a fun night together. We’d both been so busy lately, rushing around and barely having time to talk. But now she looked so relaxed, her face soft and unlined with worry, her eyes shining at me. Was that just about my grades, or was it the look of love—boy-girl love—I saw?

I scanned the menu, which was as heavy as an encyclopedia and as big as the back of my chair, though it only featured a few different choices. I savored each description, trying to drag out the moment. Being here was the perfect distraction from the media circus at school, the scene yesterday at Nikki’s, my impending fear that I was
about to be busted. All of it seemed far away in this beautiful place.

A server appeared at our table and told us about the specials, which included heirloom vegetables, local beef, and small-batch cheese. Everything had a home and a name, it seemed. My mom nodded approvingly.

“Ladies, can I get you something to drink?”

“A glass of champagne for me,” she said. “She’ll have a sparkling water.”

Our drinks came and we toasted, clinking our glasses. “To our new start,” my mom said.

“To our new start,” I repeated, feeling a warm rush of excitement. I reached up to touch my necklace, the little bird reminding me of our early days here. It seemed so long ago, really. We were practically two different people now.

The server brought our salads. I dug into mine, which had tiny gems of roasted beets, toasted walnuts, and shaved red onion. The music was soothing and the candlelight set off our table in a butterscotch glow.

“So I want to hear more about what’s going on at school. Besides academic domination, what else have you been up to?”

I stiffened.
Oh, you know. Lying. Thieving. Preparing secret packages. Also, following you
.

“Nothing much,” I said, uncomfortable, not just because I was leaving out the truth but because we were talking like semistrangers, like she only had part-time
custody of me—that was how little we’d seen of each other recently. Weird.

“What happened with those friends of yours? The ones you said were a-holes?”

“We worked it out,” I said quickly. “It turned out to be a misunderstanding.”

“That’s great news. So what have you been doing after school then?”

I felt my easy, contented mood starting to curl at the edges. It didn’t feel good to keep so much from her. I’d never had secrets like this in the past. Here she was, so proud of me, and yet she had no idea what had been happening lately. It made even the true things, the good grades and my hard work, feel like a lie.

“Just hanging out, mostly. Studying at the library.”

“Mmm,” she said, chewing on her salad. “This is so delicious. Did you want to try mine?”

I leaned in to take a forkful, spearing rich duck breast, dried cherries, and a pale frilly lettuce. The textures and flavors mingled perfectly.

My mom took another sip of her champagne. “Usually I think fine dining can be kind of pretentious, but when you come to a place like this, you understand what it’s all about. It’s just a shame that not everyone can experience it, you know?”

I nodded. I did know. I recalled what Aidan had said on TV. It was impossible lately not to think about this stuff all of the time, not to think about how lucky I was.
I was almost tempted to say something, to tell her what was going on.

But that was no good. I tried to tamp down the urge by gnawing on some more bread.

As if reading my mind, she put down her fork. “You know, I read something in the paper, about some thefts going on in your school. Have you heard anything about that?”

I nearly choked.

Oh no. Not now. Not her
.

“Yeah, I heard something. Someone stealing from rich kids and giving things to poor kids.” My voice sounded nonchalant but I felt like I was practically heaving out the words, they were so weighted.

My mother raised a curious eyebrow. “It sounds like they’ve come closer to finding the culprit. I guess one of the items turned up at a local pawnshop.”