Twisted by Hannah Jayne(7)

“That’s journalism.”

“What?”

Bex’s eyes were still on Zach, watching the passionate way he argued, his body poised as though he would hop over the desk to prove his point. “The Pulitzer is for journalism. Not filmmaking. Does he do this all the time?”

Trevor leaned back and kicked his legs forward, resting his feet on the desk in front of him.

“Yeah,” he said with a yawn. “Better get comfortable.”

When the bell finally rang and ethics was over, Zach followed Bex out of the class. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head, studying her, boring into her. She swallowed, wondering if he could read her mind and why, whenever she considered the idea of mind reading, she went directly to her most horrid memory—that night on the driveway when she learned what her father had done.

Zach followed her all the way to her locker.

Bex paused, turning. “Is there something I can help you with?” she asked. She was surprised at the composure in her voice since every inch of her body seemed to be quaking, ready to crumble, certain that Zach was going to pinpoint who she was and then turn around and tell the entire school, heck, the entire town—even Denise and Michael—that her bloodline included a man who the newspapers called “one of the most heinous and depraved serial killers ever.”

Zach blinked at her. “I don’t know. Do you know the combination to my locker?”

Bex stepped back. “What?”

“My locker.” He brushed a hand past her shoulder. “It’s right here.”

“Oh,” Bex said, her mouth suddenly dry. She forced out a small laugh while her bones turned to hot jelly. “I’m sorry. I thought that—”

Zach pulled open his locker, shoved in a book, then turned to her. “You thought that I was the geeky comic relief? The big nerd who falls for the cool girl?”

“Cool girl? What are you talking about?”

He reached into his locker and pulled out a small, fancy camera and held it up to his face. A red light flicked on. “Okay, new girl. Tell the world about yourself. What’s your greatest dream, your deepest, darkest secret?”

Bex’s eyes went wide. “What? What are you—”

“Everyone’s going to find out sooner or later, Beth.”

Beth?





Five


Bex’s heart slammed against her rib cage. The red recording light on Zach’s camera flooded her vision until everything she saw was coated in a haze of glowing red, bright as fresh blood. Her stomach turned and heat prickled her scalp.

“Wouldn’t you rather share the whole dirty story here, in your own words, instead of having it run through the KDH mouth breathers’ PA system?”

Images plowed into Bex’s mind. She was eight years old and dressed in an itchy navy dress with a thick, lacy collar, her grandmother dragging her by the hand as they dodged a maze of reporters. The flashes from their cameras were blinding her, snapping like the jaws of hungry alligators, one after another after another. People shouted her name—strangers who knew things about her, about her family.

“Beth Anne! Do you know where your mother is?”

“Beth Anne, is it true your father gave you jewelry and presents from his victims?”

She could feel her grandmother’s hand tighten on hers, her grandmother’s jaw going hard.

“Shut up, you miscreants!” Gran had yelled. “She’s only a child!”

Beth Anne had had to look up the word “miscreant.”

“Come on, Beth,” Zach prodded. “Inquiring minds want to know.”

“Shut up,” Bex said between gritted teeth. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Each one louder until she was yelling, hands fisted, fingernails digging into the soft flesh of her palm.

“Hey.” Zach dropped the camera to his side, the little red light flicking off, but Bex couldn’t stop herself. Every synapse was firing, her blood roaring through her ears.

“Shut up!”

She didn’t know when she started crying.

She heard the body slamming against the locker first, Zach’s shoulders hitting the slick metal, his head lolling back.

“Leave her alone, *. No one wants to be in your stupid movies!”

She could see Trevor, his outline blurred through her tears. He stood a whole head taller than Zach and leered down at him. His mouth was moving so she knew he was talking, but her head was filled with the same buzzing static that she had felt before. She saw Laney and Chelsea pushing through the halls, students parting for them without so much as a word, and it was like Bex was out of her body, suspended above the whole scene. She saw herself standing there, looking wooden and hollow as Trevor yelled at Zach and Chelsea threaded an arm through wooden Bex’s, Laney stretching a protective arm across her shoulders.

They tugged at her and she was back in her body. Zach looked at her, eyes wide, slightly fearful, completely apologetic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to freak you out, Beth.”

“Bex,” Trevor spat out, bits of saliva landing on the collar of Zach’s polo shirt. “Her name is Bex.”

She watched Zach, a tiny triangle of his pink tongue darting out and brushing over his bottom lip. “I’m sorry, Bex. I didn’t mean anything. I was just joking around. I’m a documentary filmmaker.”