“Do you need something?” Sara asks, seemingly oblivious to the silent battle of wills taking place in this stupid dance. This stupid, motherfucking idiotic bullshit dance that I, for some silly reason, wanted to come to with Aaron.
I wanted to be seventeen for a night.
I wanted to be in love.
Instead, I’m going to soak my pretty, pink dress in blood.
I smile.
Kali senses my intentions; I know she does. Good. As she should. That’s my only regret in finding out that Coraleigh and her idiot husband Marcus had their heads chopped off by someone that wasn’t me: intent. They need to understand where I’m coming from, and why they’re being punished. But whereas Leigh was delusional enough to fool herself into thinking she’d done nothing wrong, Kali knows.
Kali. Fucking. Knows.
My tongue slides across my lower lip and tastes the waxy texture of my lipstick; it’s called Anarchy by the way, and it’s pink and vibrant and terrifying when paired with a rictus grin.
“Your makeup is definitely on point, Kali,” I say, cocking my head slightly to one side, like a wolf who’s scented weakness in the pack. Time to cull the herd, am I right? “Hides the fucked-up swelling from your stitches.” I run a finger round my mouth to emphasize the places where Stacey and her girls pushed their wicked needle to sew the bitch’s lips together.
Brilliant. Beyond brilliant. I should befriend Stacey Langford. She’s never treated me like shit, despite being Prescott’s queen bee, and I don’t think she’s ever screwed any of my boys. My eyes shift slightly to the right, finding Hael’s strong gaze in an instant. He stands out in a crowd, carrying this cloud of charisma that draws girls to his honey like flies.
Even though they know he’s off-limits, even though they know that I’m watching, still they come. If I didn’t have Aaron to worry about right now, I’d be cunt-punting and titty-slapping my way through their skanky asses. Well, the Prescott girls are all skanky—it’s kind of our thing. Fuller girls look like catalogue models. Oak Valley girls look like anorexic birds in designer dresses.
I turn back to Kali, but, despite the fire in her eyes, she flips the victim card again and tears appear, as if I started all this by calling Havoc on her. As if I sought her out and started bullying her for no reason at all. Fucking pathetic.
I cannot wait to be done with her. Honestly, I’ll probably close my eyes one day after her demise, wake up, and forget all about the ex-best friend who chose to betray me. And I’ll do it all from a bed filled with boys whose betrayal I have truly and utterly forgiven. How could I not, knowing how deep their roots go?
“You’re horrible,” Kali says, closing her eyes and putting her hand over her mouth. “You’re so horrible. Please, just … go away.” The little rat turns to Sara, as if the police officer gives a motherfucking flying fuck about what happens to either of us. “I don’t need you to hunt me down and keep bullying me, okay? I won’t tell the cops anything about your stupid gang.”
I laugh then because, come on, could her acting get any worse? Could her speech get anymore B-movie cliché?
“Listen, sweetheart,” I say, turning to Sara at the last second, as if my derogatory use of the word sweetheart could be referring to either of them. It’s not, though. I am now specifically speaking to the young officer. “Whatever nonsense it is that she’s feeding you, it has an ulterior motive. She knows that by coming to you, she’ll be confirming her status as a scum-sucking, southside snitch. She can’t go back to school after this; this is an endgame move.”
“Bernadette,” Sara says again, but her eyes slide to Kali like she hadn’t exactly thought of it that way. It’s because Sara—for all her faults—is not a bad person. So she doesn’t think like a bad person. She doesn’t imagine that everything everyone else does is plotted, vindictive, bullshit because that’s not how she operates. I’m here to make sure she fully understands Kali’s motives. “If you need to talk, we can set up a time. Kali was here first, and I’d like to honor her request.”
“It’s okay, Miss Young,” Kali says, softening her voice. God, I could kill her. I could just fucking kill her. I know in my heart that she had something to do with Aaron’s disappearance. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. She did it; she is responsible. She snuck off at the race when Cal was exploding heads. It’s so goddamn obvious. “Bernadette … already knows.” Kali’s eyes flash triumphant as she puts her hand to her belly. To be quite honest, I’m not entirely sure she’s pregnant at all. It’d be just like her to fake something like that.
