The Dead Kids Club

Chapter One

Ipromise I’m not a murderer. No matter what anyone tells you about me, you can’t listen to a word they say.

People lie. For selfish reasons more often than not, we bend the truth to get what we want. Plus, my parents are lawyers‒ which means I was born with lying and sarcasm in my veins. So of course I don’t expect you to immediately believe me when I tell you that I, Danielle Donovan , am a model student and  friend, and I don’t have any legitimate blood on my hands.

Honestly, I deserve a pat on the back for how level-headed I remained through everything that went down. I cooperated with the local police and assisted in any way that I could, but my only reward for any of it was becoming Cold Meadow’s resident murder babe.

That’s a huge step down from being Homecoming Queen.

But I promise, this is all a jumbled misunderstanding and by the time I’ve explained everything, you’ll stop thinking of me as a sneaky, lying, backstabber who kills people for fun.

Not that you think that already.

Life was normal until that drab Monday morning. I was fresh from a shower - after an early cheer practice - and sliding into my trigonometry class a few minutes late because I had spent too long wringing the water from my thick hair. My teacher, Mr. Wilson, had his back to us, scribbling some complicated equation onto the whiteboard, so I was able to slip into my  seat undetected.

Sparing a sly grin to my best friend Gage Mitchell, I took out our homework and realized our teacher was going over the problems. I sighed internally. It was bad enough to give us homework over the weekend, but not even taking it as a grade? Using the problems as practice during school hours was fine, but if I had to take time from my weekend to do something as mind numbingly pointless as trig, I better have got something out of it.

Miss Donovan, our exasperated teacher said, not bothering to turn around. You’re tardy.

I didn’t even try to deny it. Sometimes I felt the man had to have some sort of psychic abilities.

I’m sorry, I rushed out in my most regretful voice. I lost track of time after practice and thought I could come in without disrupting anything.

He sighed and put the cap on his dry erase marker, then turned to stare at me. A warning, he said and I gave a small smile for managing to avoid detention. With authority figures, you have to make them think you had the best intentions in mind when you’ve made a mistake.

So, he continued, who can give me the answer? he asked the class, leaning into his palms that rested on the desk.

A nerdy girl with dark skin and adorable sea-foam green glasses rose her and didn’t wait to be addressed by Mr. Wilson before she blurted out the answer. She was correct, which I knew without needing Mr. Wilson’s confirmation.

My cell phone was in my lap where Mr. Wilson couldn’t see it, but I noticed the tiny LED light had started blinking. Discreetly, I turned on the screen and saw I had a text from Gage.

Why was he texting me if he was only two feet away? I shot him a disbelieving look and checked the message anyway.

We need to talk to Frankie.

I groaned. Frankie Carson, while a close friend of mine, was like tequila - best served in small, manageable doses. Her fiery personality made her unlike anyone I had ever known, but it also made her a lot to handle sometimes.

Why? I whispered to Gage.

He looked at me with something like fear in his eyes, but before he could say anything, or text me back, someone entered the classroom.

Lainey Park was the last person I expected to see. I didn’t know her very well. For the first few years of high school, she was just a wallflower who I never paid much attention to‒ despite sharing a couple of classes with her. Last year, my friend Cara had started dating her and Lainey was put on my radar.

At first, I couldn’t figure out why she was in my trigonometry classroom. I would have guessed she was transferring in. It was late October and we still had several months of school left. But she didn’t have any belongings with her. Just a pink slip of paper that she handed to Mr. Wilson before spinning on her black wedge heel and parading back into the hallway.

Mr. Wilson and I both frowned at the paper, though I didn’t know what was written on it. Danielle, he said, looking dead at me, you’re needed in Principal Stevenson’s office.

It was as if I suddenly I didn’t speak English anymore. Literally, the words made sense, but it felt like my brain wasn’t processing the language he spoke. I was Danielle Marie Donovan. I only went to Principal Stevenson’s office when I was getting some sort of special recognition award, but even then I always knew beforehand what was going on. A random summoning only happened to the poorly behaved students.

Like my classmates were just as shocked as I was, there wasn’t a collective whispering or leering looks as I picked up my phone and purse. Normally, when a kid got sent to the dog house, the others would tease them. But this time was dead silent.

Giving one more look to Gage, who seemed like he was silently trying to tell me something, I took the note from Mr. Wilson and left the room.

As soon as I was in the hallway, I looked down at the slip, thinking there must be some sort of mistake. But there was nothing except my name and the principal’s stamp. Yes, she had her own stamp.

Now that the heat from my shower earlier seemed to have fully left my body, I shivered at how cold the hallway felt. I wore a soft sweater with sleeves that went just past my elbows and a pair of thin leggings that technically weren’t compliant with our dress code but nobody had said anything to me yet. Unfortunately, I still wasn’t warm.

While I made my way to Principal Stevenson’s office at a snail’s pace, I re-read the note, hoping some clue would pop out at me so I wouldn’t be completely blindsided by whatever was waiting for me. I came to no conclusion. Gage, however, seemed to know something about what was going on.

At this thought, I stopped so short that my shoes squeaked on the tile floor. Checking my surroundings, I ducked into an alcove, where no one would be able to see me unless they were being super observant. Pulling out my phone, I shot Gage a quick text to meet me in that very spot.

Less than a full minute passed before he reached me with a bathroom pass in his hand.

You know why Stevenson called me down? I questioned.

He nodded and looked over his shoulder before lowering his voice. It’s really bad, Dani. They started calling people down last period. Gage’s first class was economics. I didn’t have a first class unless an early cheer practice was scheduled for the senior team members without a first period. That’s why we need to talk to Frankie.

He was starting to scare me. Why didn’t you just text me that earlier? Or why can’t we just text her? I asked.

Dani, he sighed, the FBI, the cops - they can all get into our phone records.

I gave him a dubious look. "They can only do that with a warrant. Unless it’s Big Brother. But if they suspected us of anything, we’d have been hauled in a long time ago."

He looked grim. I guess you’re right.

Plus, what would they think we did? I haven’t committed any felonies. Have you?

No, he said, though I was completely joking. But Dani,they’re saying  it’s Sco- he tried to say before he got cut off by a loud male voice.

What are you two doing out here?

Gage, though he held the bathroom pass, was clearly not in the boy’s restroom. I had to think quick.

I was on my way to Principal Stevenson’s, I started, looking the man in his dark eyes, but I have to go to the bathroom. Realized I’d left my tampons in class. He brought them to me. I waved my clutch as the man’s face turned redder than a cherry.

Well, um, he sputtered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding my gaze, you two hurry up and get where you’re supposed to be.

The man waited for us to leave.

Thanks, I said to Gage before turning to the direction of the office. My mind started jumping around to what could have been going on. If the police were involved, it could have been about my parents. They were both criminal defense attorneys. But I was still seventeen. The cops couldn’t come to the school to question me if my parents were in trouble, not if I didn’t have a lawyer present.

And Gage surely wouldn’t be caught in the middle.

Way sooner than I wanted, I was at the office door, my blurred reflection staring back at me through the faux-glass window. Even through the distorted image, I could see how apprehensive I looked.

Raising my hand, I knocked three times before an unfamiliar voice told me to come in.

I twisted the knob, my heart pounding like a metronome on crack. Though I had expected to see a woman behind the desk, the one I saw was the opposite of what I should have.

Unlike Principal Stevenson, she didn’t look like she had just left Woodstock. When she stood, I took in her impressive height and her crisp white pantsuit that, when offset by her lovely black skin, made her look like a politician. Particularly one of the types that doesn’t suck the life out of everything. Less of a fried troll that loves Russian prostitutes, and more of an Obama. Her hair was short and naturally curled, just an inch or so from her scalp, and she extended her hand to give me a firm handshake.

Yep. Definitely like a politician.

Miss Donovan, the woman said, her voice powerful yet comforting - like an intense espresso, please have a seat.

She gestured to the patchy green chair on the other side of the desk and I did as she told me.

My name’s Detective Wood, she said.

My pulse had not stopped racing in the past several minutes, but was now so powerful that it was threatening to make my body explode. What can I do for you, Detective? I asked.

I was informed that you hosted a party at your house on Saturday night. Is this correct?

I nodded. There was no way a detective had come all the way down here just for some underage drinking and minor marijuana use. What was going on here?

Do you happen to recall the last time you saw Scotia Rivers that night?

And just like that a few things fell into place, like the missing center pieces of the puzzle had been found under the table. Gage had tried to tell me about Scotia. She was what we needed to talk to Frankie about. Speaking of Frankie, there was a good chance the detective had already questioned her. Everyone in school knew about the rocky relationship between her and Scotia. But why hadn’t she also texted me to warn me? I’d have done it for her.

Not really, I was a little... I paused to consider if I should lie before ultimately deciding against it and just being honest about my lack of sobriety, blurry-minded, I finished. Maybe ten? Ten-thirty?

Detective Wood nodded as if she’d expected that answer and wrote something down quickly.

I’m sorry, I blurted suddenly, leaning toward her, but why exactly am I in here?

She looked at me with gentleness. Our department has been alerted about a disappearance.

Scotia’s, I concluded.

The detective didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. Who else could it have been? The last place anyone seems to have seen her was at your house Saturday night. She scanned the pad she’d been taking notes on. Never past eleven p.m., however. We’re interviewing those who were close to her to see if we can be pointed in any direction and find her.

I swallowed. Interrogating us without our parents or lawyers present is not okay.

It’s not, she responded, but that’s not what we’re doing here. For an interrogation, one that’s on the books, we’d have to haul you down to the station.

That’s not as comforting as I think you meant it, I mumbled, to which she gave me a chuckle before recomposing herself.

Miss Donovan, a classmate of yours is missing, she said. I trust you will be honest and cooperative with us throughout our investigation.

I wasn’t sure what made her think anything to the contrary, but I agreed. Of course, I said, perhaps a little too fast. A sour taste spilled into my mouth. There was a missing girl who had last been seen in my house. I’d seen enough movies to know that this did not bode well for me. At that moment, sitting across from Detective Wood, I didn’t make the conscious decision to fill anyone’s head with lies about what happened to Scotia.

But my life had other plans for me. By the time everything was over, my intentions didn’t matter. I hardly recognized myself anymore.

Murder can do that to a person, I suppose.

Chapter Two

The rest of the morning passed in a boring and uneventful blur. I texted Gage and told him to put everything I’d left in Mr. Wilson’s class into my locker, since he knew the combination. I didn’t bother returning to that drag of a class. Instead, I roamed the halls and tried to sort through everything - starting with the outcomes I could accurately predict. First, there was the most obvious result. My parents were going to end up finding out about my party, which was a total bummer. I’d spent a long time cleaning up the mess the football team had made, all for my parents to know about the party anyway. I was going to end up grounded soon. It didn’t matter, though. If I had anywhere to be, I could always sneak out.

Next, there was the likelihood of the local media getting closer to the school, and wanting to interview students for a nightly news exclusive. I knew a few kids would leap at the chance to have their faces on TV. Some of Cold Meadow’s citizens acted like we lived in the most important part of America and what we thought was crucial to the world continuing to spin. We were in the dead woods of Virginia, so that false sense of importance couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Even so, I would have to deal with the mild inconvenience of local journalists snooping around, plus Cold Meadow’s inept police force.

Anything else was up in the air. Would I have to speak with the cops again? What happened between Saturday night and that Monday morning? And most importantly, how long would it take for anyone to find my friend?

When lunch finally rolled around, I felt relieved to be able to talk to my friends, mainly Gage and Frankie, in person. To be honest, there were a lot of people I needed to talk to. Most of the senior class had shown their faces at some point, many of them taking part in the party hopping weekends that I had given up as a sophomore. Back then it meant I’d have to go to the identical towns that surrounded Cold Meadow. While my town was far from the most progressive, the surrounding ones were full of rednecks and, not to get political, but I don’t think I need to explain why I wanted to stay as far away from them as possible.

Have they talked to you yet? I whispered to Frankie as she sat down, putting down her warmed up lunch on the table. Spaghetti filled her bowl, almost to the brim, but I noticed there weren’t any meatballs. Frankie was a vegetarian, but she still ate eggs and drank milk.

Who? she asked innocently, twisting spaghetti noodles around her fork and shoving it in her mouth.

The rest of the table didn’t completely fill in, which wasn’t unusual. As seniors, we had the option of off campus lunch and often times, we were out of the school doors before the fourth period dismissal bell had stopped ringing. Currently, Cara and Lainey were gone, as was Jarrod Reese. His absence alarmed me at first but the more I thought about it, the more I understood why he was gone. Who would want to eat a meal with his missing ex-girlfriend’s friends?

That left me, Frankie, Gage sitting in front of me, and Andre, Frankie’s boyfriend, lounging next to him.

The cops, I hissed at her.

Oh, she chirped with too much pep. Yeah, for a little while. It was pretty routine stuff, I guess.

I looked at her with large eyes. Our friend is missing, Frankie. There’s nothing routine about that. What did you say to them?

Well, she whispered to me, I told them that Scotia and I only have cheer and history together, and that I hated going anywhere near her without a ten foot pole and latex gloves for fear of catching something. But then they wanted details about everything I knew on Scotia fucking Rivers. She stabbed at her spaghetti, not bothering to wrap it this time. Should’ve explained her red nose habit. Might have shut them up.

I held back a remark at her reference to the old rumor about Scotia. Despite her venomous words, this was not the time to pick a fight with Frankie. Anything else? I prompted. What all did you tell them?

She rolled her eyes and finished her next bite. I already told you. Basic stuff, Dani, she said with nonchalance. ‘Who is she dating? Who are her closest friends? Did she ever seem troubled about anything?’ Answers: everyone with a functioning penis, she slept with too many boyfriends to have any real friends, and only if you count a burning vagina as something troubling.

I had heard enough. This was getting me nowhere. Turning away from her, I looked at Gage. So? he prompted. What are we going to do? If she’s been gone since the party-

Then what’s going to happen when the police start pointing the blame at me?

You’re screwed, I guess, Andre said, speaking for the first time. He was a quiet guy but now and then he’d say something witty and I’d find myself understanding why he went so well with Frankie. They were like peanut butter and chocolate.

This is serious, Andre, I clipped. What’s to stop them from saying we all played a part in this? That includes you and Frankie.

This got his attention. He sat straighter and glared at me. That’s ridiculous, Dani.

Is it? I prodded. If the local news gets word about Scotia having been at my house, it’s a matter of time before someone mentions the many illegal things that were going on that night. How do you think Yale’s going to feel about that? He was heading there next fall. At this point, all he had to do was send in