Cutting Up The Competition (Horror High #2) (11 page)

Chapter

Thirty-Five

I expected Crimson County’s juvenile detention center to be scary and hulking. Instead, it was a small round building, filled with “cells” that more closely resembled small dorm rooms than locked cages.

My mother and I waited patiently at the main desk in the center, watching “inmates” come and go from their rooms freely. There was a quaint sitting room, equipped with a fancy flat screen television and a work station with a decent-looking computer and monitor.

It was hard to believe this place could be used as a form of punishment…but at the same time, I guess being kept away from school, family, friends, and everyday normal society was punishment enough in itself.

“This way please,” said a cute male orderly, who was sporting a tiny mustache that looked freshly grown on his youthful face.

The three of us stood outside a “cell” with the number eight painted on the side next to its door frame. With the scan of a keycard and a small buzzing sound, we were led inside a girl’s bedroom. Ashleigh Westerfield sat on the bed, drawing.

She barely glanced up at us, much to my surprise. Her cream colored walls were covered in sketches. Some of them were drawings of cheerleaders, a big letter D—for Dragons, I presumed—displayed proudly on the chest of their uniforms.

“You have about fifteen minutes,” the orderly said, giving me an apologetic look. He walked out, leaving Mom and me alone with Ashleigh, although he did leave the door to the room propped open. Across the hallway, I could see several staff members patrolling. That gave me a greater sense of safety.

“Ashleigh, its’s Amanda. Do you remember me from school?”

She stopped drawing and looked up, seemingly catching my words. She nodded, a strange, gleeful expression on her face. “How’s the team doing?” she asked, surprising me.

My mom gave me a strange look, raising her eyebrows questioningly.

“Can you leave us alone for a few minutes?” I asked her. Mom looked like she wanted to say no, but finally, she backed out of the room, never taking her eyes off of Ashleigh. “I’ll be right in the hallway if you need me,” she warned.

Ashleigh watched me as I took a seat, pulling the chair close to where she sat on the bed. Her expression was friendly, genuine. She looked wide-eyed and eager…almost
innocent
.

“Things are not well, actually. Now there’s a new person harassing us. I was hoping you could help me figure it out,” I said.

“How can I help from in here?” Ashleigh asked, looking around her small eight by six room.

“
Why
did you do it, Ashleigh? Why did you stalk us and try to kill Sydney? Can you at least tell me that?” I pleaded.

I expected her demeanor to change. But her smile never faded, almost like it was painted on.

She reminded me of a ventriloquist dummy, one of those bizarre-looking ones that always seemed to be in a perpetual state of creepy bliss.

Ashley’s expression turned serious. “You want to know
why
? Well, that’s easy. I put Sydney in the locker because she told me to. She wanted me to stop her because she couldn’t stop herself.”

I felt the air leave my lungs. “What do you mean?” I demanded, still not registering her words.

“Sydney told me to stuff her in the locker. She told me to do all of those things. She said I had to do it, for the team.”

Chapter

Thirty-Six

“Mom. Let’s go home,” I breathed, nearly tripping over myself on the way out of the door. The walls of the detention center were wavy, distorted. I felt disconnected, like the world wasn’t real anymore.

When I was little, I used to literally believe that the world revolved around me. My life was like
The Truman Show
, everyone watching and playing their role in this movie I called
My Life
. I used to pretend my decisions and actions could influence the entire planet.

I think I wanted to believe it because I felt so insignificant and small. By playing that silly game, I could make even the most unbearable days have meaning.

Today felt like one of those days. I stumbled through the hallway, people staring at me strangely.

The world is a stage, and everyone is laughing…

When we finally burst through the exit doors, I desperately sucked in air, trying to fill my lungs and calm my rapid heartbeat.

What did this new knowledge mean? And did it mean what I thought it meant?

My mom reached across the seat of Grandma’s classic car, pulling my seatbelt across my lap for me. She hooked it in, then just stared. “Talk to me, Amanda. Talk to me now. Are you all right? What did that girl say to you?”

“Nothing. It was just so upsetting for me to see her, is all…” I breathed, trying to recover.

I had to go to Detective Simms. I had to tell Mom and Grandma. I had to tell Dakota too. But I wasn’t ready to do it just yet.

Somewhere in the distance, Mom was offering to take me to Kentucky Fried Chicken. “Want a bucket of chicken?” she asked, her voice sounding far away.

“Can we just go straight home? I’m really tired.”

“Okay.” My mom was quiet and pensive, wanting to ask more but apparently deciding not to. I was grateful she didn’t. We listened to the radio, local news about sports and upcoming events.

“This just in—we have breaking news.” The young female reporter’s voice woke me from my trance—the reporter sounded excited as she fumbled for a few minutes, obviously live and unscripted.

“The young girl reported missing—Sydney Michelle Hargreaves—has been found. Stay tuned for details after these messages from our sponsors.”

“What?” I screamed at the speaker. I pounded it with my fists, willing her to come back on. By now, my mom had pulled over on the side of the road. She reached for my arms, trying to calm me down.

“Is she dead? Did they find her body? Is she alive? Come on!” I screamed at an advertisement for itch relief cream.

“Just wait and listen,” my mom whispered, turning up the volume on the radio.

“Okay, Kelly Fenteel back again. This just in—Sydney Hargreaves has miraculously been found. And, get this folks! She’s alive! She walked back into town bruised and bloody, but essentially nothing broken and most importantly,
alive
! Apparently, her captor had a change of heart and decided to let her go. She is currently with police, and more details are soon to follow…now here’s an old favorite, “Paint it Black” by the Rolling Stones…”

“That’s wonderful news, honey. Do you want me to drive you down to the police station to see her now?” my mom asked, an expression of wonderment on her face.

I shook my head, still staring at the speaker, which sung of red doors and the need to paint the whole world black. I wanted to listen to this song…

I needed to know more about my missing friend and how she’d been found…but the music kept playing, its addicting, haunting lyrics sucking me in…

“You want to go home then? Honey, I’m sorry you’re upset. This has all been so hard on you…”

“Mom?”

“Yes, honey?” She was staring at me now, her face twisted up with worry and concern.

I was feeling pretty worried myself.

I pulled myself away from the music and looked at my mother, my face grave.

“Mom. She did it. Sydney is the one who killed Genevieve, the one who tried to kill Brittani, and threatened me. It’s been Sydney all along.”

Chapter

Thirty-Seven

Sitting across from my mom and Grandma Mimi, I told them exactly why I thought Sydney did it.

“First of all, Ashleigh
told me
that Sydney made her do it.”

“Made her stuff Sydney into a locker and try to kill her? Made her kill a cat and stuff it in Brittani’s bag last year? That just doesn’t make sense, honey. Not to mention the fact that the girl is a little unstable…” my mom protested.

“Listen to the girl, Bethany!” Grandma Mimi snapped at my mother.

Giving me a sheepish grimace, my mother encouraged me to go on.

“There’s this picture of Sydney’s Grandma Rose on her dresser. This same lady is on her Facebook page, although the lady claims she doesn’t know Sydney in real life.”

Pulling up Rose’s profile, I showed it to my mom and grandma.

“She has a fake Grandma Rose.”

When they didn’t say anything, I went on, “And right before she went missing, Sydney was doing a pig dissection in advanced bio. The tongue in Winter’s locker belonged to a pig.”

My mom and grandma exchanged worried looks.

“So, you’re saying Sydney killed Genevieve and did all of those other things, even faking her
own
kidnapping, all the while she was responsible for what happened last year too…?” my mother asked, disbelievingly.

I couldn’t blame her. I didn’t want to believe it either. But I’ve always been a stickler for the facts. There were too many coincidences not to suspect Sydney at this point.

“What should we do now?” Grandma Mimi asked, her voice hushed and frightened.

“First, we should—”

There was a loud banging sound at the front door.

“Oh my God, I bet it’s Sydney!” I hissed.

Chapter

Thirty-Eight

When I peeked through the peephole, I was surprised to see Jordan outside. I opened the door, staring at him crossly. He was holding the baby doll by one arm, swinging it side to side.

“Can you take this baby for a bit? I need to go to practice and study for a bit.” He looked tired, his face gaunt with circles under his eyes.

I fought the urge to slam the door in his face.

“Is
she
going with you to practice?” I asked, pointing out to his car, where I could see Lauren perched in the passenger’s seat, painting her perfect little toenails.

“
Well
, we’re going to get something to eat first, but then I have to practice. Our first game is next week. I told you I’m going to break up with her soon…”

I reached out and grabbed the baby from his hands. “For the record, you’re a terrible boyfriend
and
a terrible father.” I slammed the door in his face.

My mom and grandma were struggling not to laugh, but I wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“We need to call Detective Simms and tell him about Sydney before she hurts anyone else,” I said solemnly.

Chapter

Thirty-Nine

Bouncing Baby Annie on my lap, I regurgitated my theories to Detective Simms. He listened, his face unmoving, not giving away his thoughts.

Does he believe me?

It was hard to know for certain. Mom and Grandma Mimi were standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter.

“And Ashleigh told me, ‘Sydney made me do it’. So, all this time she’s been sitting in there, all the while she’s innocent! And Sydney’s been playing some screwed up mind game with all of us!”

“I’ll look into it,” Detective Simms said, pushing back his chair with a screech.

“Wait! That’s it?”
He doesn’t believe me
, I realized, my face heating up with anger and embarrassment.

“That’s it for now. I have to go talk to Sydney,” he said flatly.

“Is she back home?” I asked, a nervous flutter filling my stomach.

“She’s at the station, still giving her statement.”

“Did she tell you who supposedly kidnapped her?” I asked, scared for him to leave. I didn’t want to be wrong about this, because if I was wrong, then I really
was
crazy…

“She did. It was someone wearing a mask. Similar to the masked person Brittani described. They didn’t hurt her, only held her hostage for a few days…”

“Who was it? Do you know?” I asked, standing up beside him. I handed off Baby Annie to my mom.

“We can’t release any more information at this time.”