Two Can Keep a Secret(17)
I’m hoping to draw Brooke into the conversation, but it’s Katrin who answers. “Well, we’re cheerleaders,” she says, waving a hand between her and Brooke. “That takes up a lot of time in the fall. And our boyfriends play football.” Her eyes drift a few tables away, where a blond boy is setting down his tray. The entire table is a sea of purple-and-white athletic jackets. The boy catches her eye and winks, and Katrin blows him a kiss. “That’s Theo. Brooke’s boyfriend, Kyle, is next to him. They’re cocaptains.”
Of course they are. She doesn’t mention a boyfriend for Viv. I feel a small surge of solidarity—single girls unite!—but when I smile at Viv she meets it with a cool stare. I get the feeling, suddenly, that I’ve stumbled onto territory she’d rather not share. “That sounds fun,” I say limply. I’ve never been part of the football-and-cheerleading crowd, although I appreciate the athleticism of both.
Viv narrows her eyes. “Echo Ridge might not be Hollywood, but it’s not boring.”
I don’t bother correcting Viv that La Puente is forty miles outside Hollywood. Everyone in Echo Ridge just assumes we lived in the middle of a movie set, and nothing I say will convince them otherwise. Besides, that’s not our main issue right now. “I didn’t say it was,” I protest. “I mean, I can tell already there’s a lot going on around here.”
Viv looks unconvinced, but it’s Brooke who finally speaks up. “None of it good,” she says flatly. Her eyes are shiny as she turns toward me, and she looks like she’s in desperate need of a full night’s sleep. “You—your grandmother found Mr. Bowman, didn’t she?” I nod, and tears begin to spill down her pale cheeks.
Katrin swallows a piece of orange and pats Brooke’s arm. “You have to stop talking about it, Brooke. You keep getting worked up.”
Viv heaves a dramatic sigh. “It’s been an awful week. First Mr. Bowman, then all that vandalism cropping up around town.” Her tone is concerned, but her eyes are almost eager as she adds, “It’s going to be our first feature of the year for the school paper. A summary of what been going on all week, juxtaposed with this year’s seniors talking about where they were five years ago. It’s the kind of story that might even get picked up by the local news.” She looks at me with slightly more warmth. “I should interview you. You found the graffiti at the cultural center, didn’t you? You and Malcolm.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It was awful, but not nearly as awful as the cemetery.” That made me sick when I heard about it, especially when I tried to imagine how the Kilduffs must feel.
“The whole thing is horrible,” Viv agrees, turning toward Katrin and Brooke. “I hope nothing bad happens when you guys are announced next Thursday.”
“Announced?” I ask.
“They’re going to announce the homecoming court at assembly next Thursday morning,” Viv explains, gesturing toward the homecoming poster over Brooke’s shoulder. “Everyone’s voting between now and then. Did you download the Echo Ridge High app? Homecoming votes are on the main menu.”
I shake my head. “No, not yet.”
Viv makes a tsking noise. “Better hurry. Voting closes next Wednesday. Although most of the court is already a done deal. Katrin and Brooke are total shoo-ins.”
“You might get nominated too, Viv,” Katrin says graciously. Even though I just met her, I can tell she doesn’t actually believe there’s a chance in hell of that happening.
Viv shudders delicately. “No thank you. I don’t want to be on the radar of some murderous creep who’s decided to strike again.”
“Do you really think that’s what this is about?” I ask, curious. Viv nods, and I lean forward eagerly. I’ve been thinking about the vandalism almost nonstop for the past couple of days, and I’m dying to share theories. Even with Viv. “Interesting. Maybe. I mean, it’s definitely what the person who’s doing it wants us to think. And that’s disturbing on its own. But I keep wondering—even if you were brazen enough to get away with murder and then brag about doing it again five years later, the MO’s are completely different.”
Katrin’s face is a total blank. “MO?” she asks.
“Modus operandi,” I say, warming to the topic. It’s one where I’m perfectly confident. “You know, the method somebody uses to commit a crime? Lacey was strangled. That’s a very personal and violent way to kill someone, and not likely to be premeditated. But these threats are public, and they require planning. Plus they’re much less, well, direct. To me, it feels more like a copycat. Which isn’t to say that person isn’t dangerous. But maybe they’re dangerous in a different way.”
There’s a moment of silence at the table, until Katrin says, “Huh,” and bites into an orange slice. She chews carefully, her eyes fixed on a spot somewhere over my shoulder. There it is, I think. She just mentally dismissed me from the popular crowd. That didn’t take long.
If Ezra’s told me once, he’s told me a hundred times. Nobody wants to hear your murder theories, Ellery. Too bad he bailed on me for lunch.
Then a new expression crosses Katrin’s face, one that’s sort of irritated and indulgent at the same time. “You’re going to get kicked out of school one day for wearing that shirt,” she calls to someone.