Good Girls Lie(109)

Is this girl capable of the lies, the deceit, it would take to pull off a stunt of this magnitude? Is Ford staring into the eyes of a killer?

Or is she some sort of split personality, and moments from now, the other part of her will claw its way to the surface and laugh at their pain?

And what is that smell?



84

THE SURPRISE

Oh, come on. Are you really buying into all of this crap?

We’re just kids. Stupid, ignorant children. Too smart for our own good, too certain we know better than everyone around us. Too jaded by our backgrounds, even.

Alex was prey, a deer for the wolves. If you thought she was bad...wait until you get a load of me.

I envision the scene of the crime. Alex finding her lover’s body, dropping to her knees. Oh, the wailing. Oh, the gnashing. The beating of breasts.

I can see them milling around out there. I’m too far away to see faces, but I can read their demeanor, they are in shock. A car pulls away. That’s the dean’s Bentley.

It disappears, and I move from Alex’s room to the dark space across the hall. My lair. My ingress and egress. The window looks out onto the back of Main and I see the car pull in. The dean is driving, not her little boy toy, and Alex steps from the passenger seat.

Is she going to tell them everything? Or is she going to cover up my existence?

I light a cigarette, blow out the smoke.

Hmm. There’s blood on my hand. The little bitch clawed me as I strung her up, flailing around like a grouse trapped in a raptor’s claws.

I move back to my beloved sissy’s bedroom.

I will admit, I was too hasty in killing Becca Curtis. I don’t regret her death, not at all. But my immense anger at her treatment of Alex got the better of me, I’m afraid. Things might come to a head now, but honestly, who cares? I will be free of them all. I can let Alex go. She was so happy to go to America, to leave me behind, that she never even looked back. Only forward. Ever forward.

Will she come to sleep in this bed tonight? Will she run her hands along her body, dream of that girl who she thinks loved her?

We always hurt the ones we love, right?

Bull. Shit.

“Hey! Who the hell are you?”

No, who the hell are you, little darling? She is tall, like Alex, but with red hair and freckles. Oh, that’s right, it’s the suitemate. She is wearing a Goode sweatshirt long enough to cover her ass, yoga pants, and a pink baseball cap. I like the hat. I like the whole outfit, actually. It looks comfortable. Broken in. I bet I would look adorable in it.

Me, Ashlyn, the sweet little Goode girl.

“Piper, right? I’m the sister.”

“The sister?”

“Ash. You’ve heard the rumors.”

She looks confused. Maybe they aren’t aware. “I don’t think you should be in here.”

“Why not? She’s my sister, I have every right to be here.”

“Um, no, you don’t. You’re not a student, and you need to leave. We’re dealing with a tragedy and it’s not right for you to be here.”

“Oh, you’re dealing with a tragedy?” I start toward her, and clever girl doesn’t even hesitate, she backs away. She scrambles out the door, into the hall. I’m moving fast now, a train barreling toward her, and she backpedals right into the open door of the storeroom.

I know she’s going to trip before she does; I see the ladders in the way. She goes down hard, her head hitting the floor with a terrible thwack.

“Oopsie-daisy. Did that hurt?”

It must have, she’s out cold.

I relieve her of the adorable pink hat. Might as well take the sweatshirt, too, while I’m at it.

I set my cigarette—almost gone now—on the edge of the ladder and reach for her arms. She is as lifeless as a full-size doll, lolling about here and there, her arms swinging loosely. Dead weight.

I finally get her out of the sweatshirt and pull it on. It’s warm, and smells good; whatever perfume she’s wearing is vanilla based. I reach for the end of my smoke but realize it’s fallen to the floor.

Oh well. I have more. Too bad it’s not laced with a little something, just to make the time go by faster. I wonder how long it will be until Alex comes for a lie-down. We need to talk. I need to make sure she understands that the clock is ticking.

There is a whoosh behind me. A crackle. Then heat, searing heat.

It happens so quickly I barely have time to take a breath before the room is ablaze. The smoke billows, chasing me into the hall.

Uh-oh.



85

THE BURNING

The alarms go off with a clamor unlike anything I’ve heard before—sirens and screams, flashing white lights. The detective shoots us a glance and bolts out the door. The dean follows in her wake.

The sheriff puts a hand on my shoulder so I won’t run.

“You stick with me, and I won’t cuff you just yet. Understand?”

“It’s probably not occurred to you, Sheriff, but I have nowhere to go. Goode is my home now.”

His cell phone rings, and with another warning glance, he answers it. “Yeah, Kate. Yes. We can smell the smoke. Second floor? Got it.”

The dean comes back into her office. “The security panel says there’s a fire on the sophomores’ hall. The fire suppression system should have kicked in by now. I don’t know why it’s not. It’s new this year, they tested it, our art is—”