From Bad to Cursed

My ears pricked up. Mad at Aralt?

“I keep thinking, what did I do that Aralt would want to teach me a lesson? Am I taking him for granted? Was I ugly today?” She sniffed. “I’m never wearing that skirt again…Did you notice anything?”

“No,” I said. “I thought the skirt was cute.”

She sighed. “All right, well, I thought I’d ask.…I’ll talk to you later. Or tomorrow, maybe. Je dois étudier.”

“Bonjour,” I replied.

She laughed. “All right, Lex. Stay su

“Stay su

Kasey was watching me.

“Megan said—”

“I heard.”

“Something’s going on,” I said.

Kasey let the book rest in her lap. “I hate to say it, Lexi, but…”

I knew what she was going to say before she said it. We needed to go talk to Tashi.

THE GARAGE DOOR GAPED OPEN.

A bright pink envelope was wedged between the front door and the frame.

As Kasey and I stood in the driveway and stared, a car pulled up in the road behind us.

“Excuse me, girls,” the driver said through the passenger window. “Is this your house?”

We shook our heads.

He leaned across the seat and held something out. Another bright pink envelope. The words HOMEOWNERS’ ASSOCIATION CITATION were printed across it in bold red letters. “Would you mind slipping this next to the other one?”

Kasey took it, nodding.

The guy glanced at the open door and shook his head, his eyes narrow with contempt. “Some people have no respect, you know?”

“It’s a shame,” I said automatically.

“Absolutely,” he said, raising his hand in an affable way. “See you later.”

I wondered if he would have been so nice to me with my pink hair.

“So she’s not home,” Kasey said.

“I guess not.” I knew the door leading from the garage to the hall was locked from inside. “Come on.”

Kasey came tripping behind me through the side yard and stopped short when she saw me unlatch the window. “This is illegal!”

Amazing how low on my priority list legality had sunk. I hoisted myself inside and extended a hand to my sister, who gazed around the empty house with a look of dread on her face.

First, I hit the button on the wall to close the garage door. Then I got the pink notices from the doorway and set them on the piano bench.

It was obvious that no one was home. We started looking around, checking every room, every closet.

I was in the master bedroom when my sister yelled out for me. I raced through the house to find her standing by the kitchen counter.

“What is that?” she asked, angling her head to look at something. “Is it blood?”

I leaned down to look at puddles of congealed dark liquid.

“Yeah,” I said. “It is.”

I turned to get a paper towel and noticed that there was a small pile of trash on the floor—Tashi’s crumpled football game ticket, a used-up matchbook, and the wrapper from a package of ground beef.

“Why would there be blood on the counter?” Kasey asked, on the verge of freaking out. “Did someone hurt Tashi?”

And why would there be trash on the floor?

Someone had dumped it out and taken the bag. But what would they need the bag for?

“Excuse me,” I said, weaving around her.

I opened the fridge.

One of the shelves was completely bare, except for a few puddles of dried blood. Whoever it was—Tashi?—must have stacked packages of meat on the counter and then put them in the plastic bag and taken them away.

At least it wasn’t Tashi’s blood.

But she’d been scared. Scared enough to run? To take herself, the book, Aralt, and enough meat to last a few days? But where would she go?

My heart began to thump against my chest as I made my way back down the hall and into the master bedroom, where my suspicions were confirmed.

The closet was noticeably emptier. Half the shoes and most of the clothes on hangers were gone, although the dirty laundry was still piled up in the corner.

The book was gone, too.

Then I went into the bathroom, where my eye was drawn to the cup on the counter.

What I saw there stopped me short.

Because if Tashi had really gone away…

Why hadn’t she taken her toothbrush?

WEDNESDAY MORNING, you could tell something was different. Even though the Club converged in the courtyard as always, it didn’t feel like a normal day.

We were scattered where we’d been a unit, distracted where we’d been focused, jumpy where we’d been as tranquil as a herd of cows. There was a spark in the air, as if lightning had struck too close.

It lasted through lunch. Paige spilled yogurt all over herself, and our usual conversation was replaced by a miniature study group. It turns out Megan wasn’t the only one bombing quizzes.

After the bell rang, a group of us went to the bathroom together to touch up our lipstick. Emily and Mimi were next to me.

“What’s wrong with your hair, Em?” Mimi asked. “The back’s all…flattish.”

Emily reached up to touch her hair and then twisted to look at it. “Really?”

“Yeah, it’s…weird.” Mimi gave it a futile fluff and then shrugged. “You should fix it.”

Gradually, everyone else trickled out, and it was just me and Emily. She was still swinging from side to side, trying to see what Mimi saw.

“Stop worrying. You look great,” I said.

She inspected herself from a few more angles, looking like she might burst into tears at any moment. “You’re so nice, Alexis. But I can’t go to class like this,” she said. “Can you help me? Do you have a curling iron?”

Um. “A curling iron…? At school? No, sorry.”

Emily glanced around frantically, like one was going to poof into midair.

“Maybe in the drama club supply room?” I suggested. “Or with the cheerleading stuff?”

Her eyes popped open wide. “The cheerleaders! Of course!”

“But the bell’s going to ring in, like, two minutes. We have to get to Math.”

She came up to me and pressed her hands together, like she was praying. “Can you just make up an excuse for me?”

I sighed. “I don’t know, Em…”

“Please! It’s an emergency. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Just stall him.”

I finally agreed. But only because it was Emily.

All I had to say to Mr. Demarco was that Emily was dealing with “feminine issues,” and he shooed me away.

The rule at Surrey High was that phones had to be on silent or vibrate during class, and they could only be used between class periods. So when my phone lit up against the lining of my purse, I almost ignored it. But then I flipped it on its side and read the screen. It was a text from Emily.

NEED U GIRLS BTHROM

I rolled my eyes. Calling me out of class to help fix her flat hair? But when I thought about ignoring it, I felt the tiniest pressure in my temple. It didn’t let up until I got up and went to Mr. Demarco’s desk.

“Emily needs me,” I said.

“Go, just go,” he said. “No details.”

When I got into the bathroom, the first thing I did was instinctively check the mirror.

Still good.

Then I saw Emily.

She was crouching in the corner, her legs tucked under her, a curling iron in her hand.

Half her hair was burned off. There was a bright pink, shiny, painful-looking patch of skin just above her forehead. Onyx-colored tears streamed down her face, spreading onto her shirt in dark clouds.

She raised the curling iron again.

“Why isn’t it working, Alexis?” she snuffled, reaching up and wrapping a thin strand of hair around it, then bringing the whole thing down against her scalp. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh my God, stop!” I cried, rushing over to her.

“It’s not working!” she said. “It’s flat! You have to help me. I’m not good enough!”