Cutting Up The Competition (Horror High Series Book 2) Page 3

  I tried to swallow down the lump in my throat. “We just figured it was a copycat, someone trying to keep the drama going…plus they haven’t called in over a month.”

  “You should have told me.” His face was stern, but not angry.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, staring at a crude drawing of a big-breasted cheerleader on the desk.

  “I need to see your phone.” Without hesitation, I reached inside my bag and handed over my iPhone.

  “When will I get it back?”

  “You can come to the station in a couple days and pick it up then.” I nodded, still trying to forget Genevieve’s nose. Who would want to kill her? One of the other cheerleaders? Someone she’d had a beef with?

  And the real question—who did Genevieve not have a beef with? That girl was bitchy as hell…

  Despite Genevieve’s unlikable personality traits, no one I knew seemed capable of something so horrible. And why chop off her nose?

  “Was she murdered?” I looked up, staring at Detective Simms’ face, trying to read his expression. I heard myself ask the question and realized it sounded stupid. Of course she was murdered, I scolded myself. Last time I checked there’s not some rotting nose disease going around that kills healthy teenagers.

  “We won’t know until further investigation, but for now…it looks like foul play to me.”

  He walked me back to the classroom I’d been held in before. Looking around for Jordan, I finally spotted him next to his sister and another girl.

  “You want a ride home? They’re letting us go. Rumor is, school might be canceled for a few days while they process the crime scene.”

  I didn’t mind the idea of a few days off. All I wanted to do was hide under the covers and forget about strips of flesh stretched against bone. And empty nose sockets…

  I shuddered again.

  “Amanda. Do you want us to take you home?” Winter repeated. Her voice was soft, comforting. She gave me a sad smile.

  I nodded, letting them lead me out of the classroom. Parents were arriving out front and kids were headed to their usual end of the day destinations. Some of them were still waiting for family to pick them up.

  I caught a glimpse of the east hallway. It was blocked off with caution tape. Several police officers were clustered outside of the gym. Discussing Genevieve, no doubt.

  We had barely made it out to the parking lot when I saw Sydney and Dakota standing near the front entranceway. Were they waiting for me?

  You would think after what happened to Genevieve, Dakota might forget about our stupid little tiff but instead, she scowled, narrowing her eyes at Winter and shaking her head at me.

  I gave her an apologetic look, but kept going. I needed to get home. I needed to process all of this. I didn’t care how I got there or who took me, as long as I got there and away from this school.

  They don’t call it Horror High for nothing…

  Chapter Eight

  I’d never been so happy to see my Grandma Mimi’s house. I was so out of it that I jumped out, forgetting to thank Jordan and Winter for bringing me home.

  There was another girl in the car who rode with us. I didn’t know who she was, nor did I even think to ask. Normally, I’m pretty polite, but I had a lot on my mind…

  Grandma Mimi is pretty strange. She sleeps late, wears makeup to bed, and drinks cocktails off and on all day. She used to be a showgirl in Vegas and supposedly, had a heavy drug problem to boot.

  She’s my dad’s mother—no surprise there—but we never talk about him. He’s dead now, which is arguably where he probably deserves to be.

  I pulled out my key and lifted it toward the lock. Surprised to find the door slightly open, I pushed it the rest of the way in, tentatively stepping inside. Mimi is a little paranoid and rarely leaves the house, so the door being left open was worrisome. Usually, she kept the house locked tight, like we were protecting Fort Knox or something…

  “Grandma?” I shouted, dropping my backpack in the foyer. I peeked in the living room. I expected an intruder or to find Mimi sick on the floor. But what I found was inherently worse.

  My mother was sitting on the couch.

  Chapter Nine

  “What the hell is she doing here?”

  “She is your mother, and she came to see you. We heard about what happened at school. We were both worried sick about you.”

  I looked back and forth between my mother and Grandma Mimi.

  “I’m fine. And I don’t want to see her.” I headed back out to the foyer to grab my backpack and go upstairs. I suddenly felt the urge to go back to school.

  But then I remembered Genevieve’s face…

  “Honey, please.” My mother followed me, her face twisted in pain, the way it always looked when she felt guilty.

  I’d been through this routine before. She’d say she was sorry and make amends. She’d stay clean for a few weeks and then she’d disappear—no note, no nothing.

  Well, not this time…

  “What do you really want, Mom…money? Are you getting married again?”

  “I wanted to see you, Mandy!” She reached for me, but I jerked away, disgusted by the nickname she had for me. She only called me Mandy when she wanted to manipulate me.

  “Well, here I am. And I’m fine. I like it here, so you can go now.” I folded my arms across my chest. Childish, I know, but I just couldn’t help myself.

  Seeing her was the last thing I wanted to deal with after a day like today…

  All I really wanted to do was jump under the dusty quilt I kept on my bed, stick my ear buds in, and turn the music up so loud it drowned out the images of Genevieve…

  “She’s staying for a while.” Grandma Mimi stepped out of the living room, shoulder to shoulder with Mom.

  Screw both of them, I thought angrily. I grabbed my backpack and walked out the door.

  I didn’t know where I was going. Dakota lived next door but we were fighting, and even if we weren’t, that still seemed too close to my mother.

  I jogged toward Heather Street, but going where? I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know where Jordan and Winter lived, and even if I did, I didn’t know them well enough to just show up at their door.

  Two streets over, I finally realized where I was headed. Sydney’s house.

  We weren’t as close as Dakota and I, and after today, she was probably pissed at me too. But she was the only other option I could come up with.

  I wasn’t going back to Grandma Mimi’s. Not with that woman still there. Sure, she’s my mom and I’m supposed to love her, but she’s never done anything but cause me pain.

  Her and my stupid dad, I thought bitterly.

  I was standing in front of Sydney’s house. It was big and fancy, the nicest on the block. Her parents had money, but I’d barely met them. Every once in a while, I’d see Sydney riding home from practice or school in her dad’s Mercedes, but I’d never even met the man. Or her mom, for that matter…

  Hesitating on the front porch, I was shocked when the door flung open. Sydney stood in the doorframe, her long black hair pulled up in a tight, high ponytail. She was wearing sweats and a faded Harrow High t-shirt, but as usual, she looked like a girl straight from the cover of YM magazine.

  “I saw you through the window. I just got home and changed…” Sydney stared at me, her eyes wide and worried.

  “I didn’t know where else to go. My mom is back and I don’t want to see her. And I can’t stop thinking about Genevieve. The way her nose was sliced off…”

  Sydney ushered me inside, leading me up a lovely, curved staircase with fancy carvings and phony vegetation twisted through its rails.

  “My parents aren’t here,” she said out of the blue, reaching the top and pointing toward her bedroom. I followed her inside a lovely black and white bedroom, fit for a princess with a sparkly chandelier and ornate fixtures.

  A large canopy bed sat in the center of the room. Magazines were sprawled across the bed and a neat silver comb set was pe
rfectly lined on the dresser. Somehow this was exactly what I’d imagined Sydney’s room to look like.

  Her mom and dad worked in stocks, whatever the hell that meant. Clearly, they weren’t hurting for money.

  Speaking of parents, I wonder how Genevieve’s family will react when they find out about their daughter…

  I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I tried to breathe, but couldn’t. I felt like I was going to have a full blown panic attack and the room just would not stop spinning.

  “Sit down. I’ll get you some water,” Sydney offered, moving me toward the bed and reaching below a fancy entertainment center. She had her own personal fridge hidden below.

  I gladly accepted the water, eager to soothe my gravelly throat.

  Finally able to catch my breath, I smiled and thanked her. The water tasted good, cleansing.

  “I just can’t believe Genevieve’s dead,” Sydney whispered, collapsing on the bed beside me. “I mean, Ashleigh’s in jail, so it couldn’t be her. Are you really telling me there are two crazy people at Harrow—Horror—High?” It was a question, but she didn’t seem to be asking me in particular.

  She stood up, pacing around the room. “Do you think it was Ronnie?” she asked, looking around the room wildly.

  “They’re still dating, right?” I finished off the water, screwing the cap back on tightly.

  Sydney stopped, realizing I was in the room. Apparently, I’m not the only one freaking out, I thought, suddenly feeling better.

  “I think so,” Sydney replied, moving back to the bed beside me.

  “Ronnie is an asshole. But I can’t see him hurting Genevieve, even if they got in a fight.”

  Sydney nodded. “But then again, I can’t see anyone doing that, can you?”

  I thought about it. No, I couldn’t.

  “My parents are out of town. Maybe I should call them, tell them there’s a crazy killer on the loose. I don’t want to stay home alone!” Sydney whined, jumping up to peer out from her second story bedroom window.

  It was my turn to comfort her. “I’ll stay the night with you. In fact, please let me stay. I don’t want to be with my mother right now.”

  Sydney turned around and smiled. “I haven’t had a sleepover in forever. We could make popcorn and watch movies and—”

  Suddenly, she seemed to be feeling better. “Just no scary movies, okay?” I flinched at the thought of watching something bloody and gory. Never again, I thought. Not after seeing Genevieve like that today.

  Sydney pursed her lips. “Do reruns of Buffy the Vampire Slayer qualify as scary?” I laughed in spite of myself.

  “Sounds perfect.”

  So, for the next six hours, we vegged out on the couch, watching Buffy kick some vampire butt and eating every bit of junk food we could find stashed away in Sydney’s immaculate, walk-in pantry.

  After the events of today, I thought I’d never feel safe enough to sleep again. But sure enough, we both passed out on the couch sometime after midnight.

  We didn’t wake up until the next morning, to the sounds of someone banging on the door.

  “Syd! Open up! We’re going be late!” It was Dakota. I’d know that nasally voice from anywhere.

  We both jumped up, stumbling over bowls of popcorn and grape soda cans. I made it to the door first.

  “They didn’t call school off?” I asked, throwing the door open wide. Dakota stared at me, shocked to see me hanging out at her best friend’s house. Her eyes narrowed. I’m getting used to this expression from her…

  She looked over my shoulder at Sydney, who was rushing around to get her backpack and purse. “You let her stay with you?” Dakota asked, obviously her meaning me.

  “My mom showed up again. I don’t know what she wants this time, but after what happened yesterday, I just couldn’t take it, ya know?” Tears were flowing now. I swiped them away with the back of my hand, feeling foolish.

  Dakota’s face softened. “Oh, Amanda. I’m so sorry. You could have come over to my house…”

  We stood there hugging, our way of making up, I suppose.

  “I hate to break up the love fest, but I cannot be late to school. I have to dissect a pig today in advanced bio,” Sydney sniffed from behind us. Rolling my eyes, I turned and ran upstairs to get my stuff. Time to head back to Horror High.

  Chapter Ten

  I was surprised school was open today, but I was even more surprised when I walked in and found Mariella Martin—Genevieve’s old best friend—red-rimmed and crying in the hallway. Students were piled up around her, listening to her talk about Genevieve like they were still best friends.

  “And she always knew how to make the best French braid!” Mariella moaned, her bright red curls falling over her face as she sniffled and whined to her classmates. I noticed that a lot of them were freshmen, which meant they didn’t know her yet.

  They weren’t privy to the knowledge that phony is what Mariella does best.

  I rolled my eyes at Dakota. “Seriously? They haven’t even talked since tryouts last year. And last I checked, Mariella and Genevieve hated each other.” She nodded, rolling her eyes right back. Mariella was such an attention whore, and leave it to her to use Genevieve’s death as a crutch for boosting her own popularity. Honestly, it made me sick.

  “You think she had anything to do with it? Do you think she would ki—?”

  I slammed my locker door shut, making it bang just loud enough to drown out Sydney’s question. “I’ll see you next period.” I took off jogging, heading toward the same lab as yesterday. Winter was saving me a seat in the back.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, looking at me with this pitiful, mom-like expression. I swallowed down a lump of anxiety in my throat, just as Mr. Ellison ordered us to open our chemistry books to page five.

  The words blurred together…

  I spent the rest of the school day focusing on school for once—if you could call it that—taking rapid fire notes although barely comprehending what my teachers were talking about. On the outside, I looked studious. But inside, I just felt numb.

  I still couldn’t get over the image of Genevieve’s face. Sure, she was sort of a bitch. Well, not sort of—she was a bitch. I wasn’t like Mariella, pretending to love the girl now that she’s dead. But she was a fellow squad member, and nobody deserves to go out like that…

  I tried to remember every detail. Or tried not to but failed, I should say…

  The missing flesh from her nose. Her body slumped against the side of the stall, her shiny blonde hair pasted against her odd-colored cheeks.

  I remembered something. Blood…there had been blood in her hair, making it a strange orange-ish hue…

  Did someone hit her over the head with something?

  I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to remember details…details I didn’t want to know, but couldn’t forget no matter how hard I tried…

  She was dressed in gym clothes—a white tank with long boy shorts—which is what she always wore to cheer practice. Blood dripped from her right ear lobe, wiggling its way toward her bare, skinless nose. Genevieve’s eyes popped open, two empty black sockets…

  “Ahhh!” I startled in my seat, jerking my own eyes open and hastily looking around. I was sitting in French class. Mrs. Rooney stood still at the front, her dry erase marker frozen in mid-air.

  Students were staring at me too, a few of them snickering or whispering to themselves.

  “She’s the one who found the dead cheerleader…”

  “Have you heard about her dad…?”

  I didn’t know if the whispers were real or imagined. Everything seemed surreal, wavy.

  “Are you okay?” Mrs. Rooney asked. She was walking toward my desk. When I looked up, I expected her to look angry, but instead she looked…pitying.

  “Can I take a bathroom break?” I didn’t wait for an answer, just stood up, gathering my backpack and folders.

  Moving quickly through the empty hallway, I made a beeline for the girl’s ba
throom, keeping my eyes on my feet. I counted my steps, determined not to have a panic attack.

  I hit a brick wall.

  But it wasn’t a wall, it was Jordan.

  I looked up at him in surprise. Wordlessly, he took my arm, leading me down an empty hallway.

  I was too surprised to protest. He urged me inside an empty classroom, closing the door behind him.

  I leaned against the teacher’s desk, shocked by his rush to get me alone.

  “I used to have panic attacks too.” He walked over, leaning beside me on the desk. “Is this about Genevieve?” His voice was soft, hesitant.

  I took a deep breath then exhaled. “Her and other things. This isn’t the first scary incident I’ve had…”

  “Tell me.” He said it with such intensity. I stared into his eyes, sensing something so genuine, so safe about him…

  “Okay.” I nodded and then I started telling him everything. About the sociopath from last year and Sydney’s near death experience. I told him about Genevieve, how she looked when I found her…

  “If her blood was that fresh, still dripping…then someone couldn’t have killed her long before you came in.” As soon as he said it, he looked regretful, afraid to set me off again.

  “I’m fine now,” I assured him. And actually, I kind of was. Talking to him made me feel better.

  My heart rate had slowed, my breathing was normal.

  Someone must have killed her right after the last class of the day. She changed for cheerleading tryouts and that’s when the killer did it. Sometime during the end of the day, shortly before tryouts…

  That’s when I remembered something.

  Brittani Barlow standing by the gym door. Waiting happily, but for what? For who? Why wouldn’t she have gone inside the locker room and changed for tryouts? I struggled to remember—what had she been wearing?

  Tight jeans and a perky sweater vest, I remembered. Definitely not what she’d wear to tryouts.

  Why didn’t she go in the locker room to get changed? I wondered. Maybe because she knew there was a dead girl inside. My heart raced.