Bad Girls Don't Die

I went with Option Two. “You know last night wasn’t what it looked like.”

She sighed. “I have a brother, Alexis. I know that siblings can be a little too rough sometimes.”

I couldn’t believe she had somehow rationalized it to herself that way. That she had convinced herself I was capable of hitting my sister in the face.

“It’s a long story,” I said, and I felt Option One bubbling up inside me, dying to get out.

“You can tell me when I get home from work,” Mom said. “We have a few things to talk about, actually.”

Like shipping me off to a psychologist?

“And don’t think I see Kasey as blameless. She’s been kind of high maintenance lately, hasn’t she?”

I shrugged, not that she could see it.

“Are you still there?”

“Um, yeah. But I have to get to class.”

“I’m so sorry, Alexis.”

“Yeah, well,” I said. “I’m glad about the brakes.” “Me too. Okay, Lex. I’ll let you get going.” “Hey, wait—” “What?”

“Did Kasey go to school today?”

Mom paused. “I think so. Was she sick? No, I’m sure she went. She keeps talking about this research she’s doing. It’s all she can think about.”

Research?

“But she said she’d try to go by the hospital this afternoon and see your father.” Mom sighed. “I made her promise to take a break from her project—”

“What kind of project?” I asked.

“I don’t really know,” Mom said. “Something with genealogy, maybe? Did you have to do one of those?”

“…Yeah.”

“I’ve never seen her so intense about schoolwork. Maybe you two can go to the hospital together. Will you remind her?”

My mind was already swimming with thoughts of Kasey and what this newest information meant.

“Okay, if I see her,” I said. “I’d better go. Bye.” “Bye,” she said.

I hung up before she had a chance to say anything

else.

Mrs. Ames sat quietly on the far side of the sofa,

looking around the room curiously. A new perspective for her, I guess.

“Good news?” she asked.

“Great,” I answered. I couldn’t force myself to sound cheerful.

She stood up, giving me the look that means she knows I’m not a bad person, no matter what anybody else thinks. “Off to class, then,” she said gently.

“Sure thing,” I said, scooping up my bag and walking out the door.

When the final bell rang at the end of sixth period, dread washed over me. I sat at my desk for an extra ten minutes, pretending to be organizing my notes, but finally the teacher stood up and grabbed her purse.

Where was I supposed to go now? My first priority was, of course, to avoid Megan. My second was to avoid having to go home and face my mother or sister. My third (and this might win for second if the circumstances were right) was to find Carter.

Megan wasn’t waiting by my locker, thank God, but someone else was.

Pepper Laird.

I waited for her to say something about Mimi—or Megan—and I racked my brain, trying to figure out what I could say to shut her down.

But she spoke before I had a chance to.

“Did you know that Carter and I have been sort of on the verge of seeing each other for a while?” she asked in a loud, clear voice.

Um, no. And to be honest, I didn’t really care. The idea of them together wasn’t upsetting to me—because it seemed so completely impossible.

“Good for you,” I said.

Pepper twisted her sweet sixteen ring around and around her finger as we spoke.

“Nothing too serious,” she said. “But I thought for a while he might ask me to the dance.”

“Maybe he will,” I said.

“Noooooo,” she said. She was being altogether too calm for my taste, talking in a really smooth voice, like we were business associates or something. “No, you couldn’t possibly think that, because he’s taking you.”

“Not your business,” I said, slamming my locker shut and starting to walk away.

Her voice got louder. “I just thought you cared about him,” she called.

I turned around.

“You know, whether he has friends or not. Whether he fits in.” She stared straight into my eyes. “Whether he’s happy.”

I shook my head. “I have no idea what you’re—”

“My cousin was a senior at All Saints when Carter was there,” she said, her voice hardly louder than a whisper. “She told me what happened.”

I felt like a balloon that someone had let the air out of. “What are you…?” I took a step closer to her. “You know nobody here knows about that. You wouldn’t say anything—”

To Pepper’s credit, she looked truly shocked at the idea. “No!” she cried. “Hello, I have morals.”

Right. I fought the urge to roll my eyes. “Then why are you saying this to me like you have something hanging over Carter’s head?”

“Because you’re the one with something hanging over his head,” she said, her lips in an almost sneer. “And since you’re clearly too blind to see it, I thought I’d point it out. What do you think his life would be like if he started hanging out with you and your grotesque friends?”

I tried to imagine Carter interacting with the Doom Squad, but just couldn’t form the mental picture. Then I thought of how nice it had been at the park, just the two of us. And then I pictured an endless string of days sitting at the park—just the two of us.

It seemed a little monotonous, to be honest.

“Do you think they’d be nice to him? Wouldn’t it be embarrassing, watching him try to fit in? And then, if you ever break up, do you think his old friends will take

him back?” She frowned and leaned closer to me. “Do you think he could handle being as completely alone as you are?”

Up close, Pepper’s skin was a blanket of freckles, her eyes shallow hazel pools that seemed to let light pass right through. Her eyelashes were so pale you could hardly see them.

“I know how meaningless this must sound to someone like you. But I actually do care about Carter.” She stepped back and arranged her bag over her shoulder. “Do you?”

Was it possible that I’d become so much of a loner that I’d never be able to have a boyfriend without feeling smothered? What if I got in over my head—and then discovered that I’d dragged Carter in over his head too? But by then it’d be too late. I’d be over him. And I’d be trapped.

I watched Pepper walk all the way to the end of the hall and through the double doors.

Of all the many thoughts that sprang into my head about her, this was the one that got my attention: She was right.

It was one of those perfect fall afternoons where people can’t stop telling each other what a beautiful day it is. “Beautiful day,” the crossing guard said helpfully.

The sky stretched huge and dark blue and seemed to press down on the edges of the earth. It was warm in the sunlight, but a cool hint of breeze shook the leaves on the trees. They shimmied and quaked and reminded me of that dance move called “jazz hands,” where you stretch out your hands and wiggle your fingers.

I forced myself to stop thinking about Carter and focused on Kasey instead.

Possessed.

That had to be, like, the stupidest thing I’d ever heard.

I mean, how ridiculous was it to assume that just because Kasey was acting a little crazy, doing a few weird things, that she was actually possessed?

And anyway, Dad’s brake wires hadn’t been cut. That was big, because it proved that Kasey didn’t do it. And that was really important because “not trying to kill someone” ranked a lot lower on the psycho scale than “trying to kill someone.” And that meant that Kasey was maybe only slightly nutso instead of downright padded-room-worthy.

I slowly made my way toward Whitley Street, excuses for my sister’s behavior knitting together in my head. By the time I reached the house I practically had it all rationalized as a figment of my imagination.

But I still felt a spike of dread in my spine as I put my key in the dead bolt.

The front hall was quiet. The whole place was quiet. Surrey Middle didn’t let out until 3:15 p.m., and it was only 3:00. So, according to my fresh, optimistic outlook, I wouldn’t see my sister for a half hour or so.