Cutting Up The Competition (Horror High #2) (13 page)

Chapter

Forty-Six

Coach Davis made a short announcement about Ashleigh trying out for the team. She was stretching alongside Blakely and Mariella, and seeing her made me feel sick to my stomach. Maybe she wasn’t the mastermind, but she was definitely involved in hurting my friends, I could feel it in my gut. And anyone who stuffs someone in a locker to suffocate just because someone told them to do it cannot be trusted.

“Ashleigh has been cleared of all charges. She deserves to be treated with respect, and like everyone else here, she will get her fair shot at making the team,” Coach Davis said sternly, looking at each of us in turn.

We all nodded in agreement, even me.

Everyone was quiet, trying not to look at Ashleigh. But I was looking…she was smiling, her expression…almost triumphant.

Ugh.

“Everybody on the line, at least a leg-length apart!” Coach Davis commanded.

We lined up as directed, making sure to leave enough room to perform a tumble or jump.

“The next thirty minutes will be intense. This is an accelerated version of tryouts.”

Coach Davis paced up and down in front of our line, holding the whistle around her neck close to her lips.

“I will tell you what to do and how many sets to do. When I blow my whistle, you will begin and not stop until I blow it again.”

“Toe-touch. Ten sets. Go.” She blew the whistle.

Lifting my arms in a V, I did my first toe-touch and transitioned into the second.

One expression came to mind—
Welcome to Hell.

Chapter

Forty-Seven

After ten sets of each jump, Coach Davis had us perform standing back handsprings and then back tucks. Just when I thought we were finished, she ordered us to do push-ups and run in place as fast and as hard as we could.

Some of the girls performed admirably, their jumps and tumbles flawless. Others struggled and a couple stopped before the next whistle sounded. I tried to keep an eye on my competition, but I was too focused on nailing my own moves to see much.

“Take a ten minute break and hydrate. When we get back, I’ll teach you a cheer and a lift. That will be your final test for the day,” Coach Davis said.

I was sweating and already sore as hell as I grabbed a drink of water from the fountain. I watched Dakota talking to Lauren and Blakely. She seemed to be doing just fine without me.

“Hey, stranger.” Winter stood behind me, waiting for her turn at the water fountain. “You haven’t been taking my calls,” she whined.

I moved aside, letting her get a drink. “I’m sorry, I’ve just been upset about Sydney. And Dakota’s not talking to me, so I don’t know why you would.”

“Because we’re friends, silly. And because you can talk to me anytime. I’m here for you, Amanda. I don’t know if Sydney really did it or not, but I know you wouldn’t make things up just to hurt her. There was enough evidence against her for the police to believe it, so maybe Dakota should be apologizing to
you
,” Winter said.

I didn’t see that happening anytime soon…

Jogging back over to the group, I joined a staggered line of girls to learn the individual cheer. The hardest part over, I felt sure I could nail this part.

***

My mom left for rehab this morning, so I didn’t have a ride home from school. I should have asked Grandma Mimi to pick me up, but I knew it would cause her a great deal of anxiety, leaving the house like that. So, I started walking home, happy that the sun was warm and gleaming bright.

Sure, I lived nearly six miles from school, but the exercise wouldn’t hurt me. If I was going to cheer on Coach Davis’s squad this year, I needed to get in better shape anyway. She was turning out to be one tough coach this year!

Cars swished by, leaving me behind on the sidewalk of Harrow’s main street. I kept my eyes to the ground, thinking about cheerleading and wondering when my mom would be home.

Even though I didn’t fully trust her, I was proud of her decision to go to rehab. At least she was trying to get better.

A flash of red caught my attention and I watched the taillights of Dakota’s Cavalier grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Hey, hop in!”

It was Jordan’s car, but Winter was the one shouting out of the passenger side window. I glanced over, slowing down. Jordan was driving and Lauren was in the back. She shot me a tight smile.

I hadn’t talked to Jordan much either. “We” aced the parent project, although I was the one who did all the work.

I should have known from the beginning he was a player…apparently, he’d been hitting on a couple other girls in our Child Development class too, or so I’d heard…

What did I ever see in that guy?

“Nah. I feel like walking, but thanks anyway,” I said, waving them off.

“You sure?” Winter asked, looking worried. More cars were coming up behind Jordan’s car, honking their horns angrily at Jordan for blocking the road.

“No, go ahead. I need the air,” I answered.

I watched as they too disappeared in the distance.

I missed my mom. A lot.

That’s something I wouldn’t have imagined just a couple months ago…

But her being back…I’d grown attached.
How long?
I’d asked her. But she didn’t have an answer.

“Everyone is different,” she’d told me.
It might take six weeks or six years for her to get fully clean.
I prayed for it to be the former.

I had tried to go see her at the rehab center, but they turned me away at the door. “She’s detoxing, and what that means is she’s not in a state where she can see people yet. We don’t allow visitors, even family, for the first ninety days. It’s usually in the patient’s best interest, and it’s protocol here…”

It seemed like a harsh policy, and definitely one I didn’t like. But if
not
seeing her for a while would help her, then so be it—I wouldn’t visit.

After all, I had spent so much of my life without her.
What was a few more months, really?

“Can you leave her a message for me?” I had quietly asked the nurse.

The nurse looked skeptical, but finally said she would.

“Just tell her that I love her. And if she screws up again and relapses, please tell her not to run away this time. Screwed up or not, I want her around. I don’t want her to leave again. Oh, and tell her I’m proud of her…”

The nurse promised to relay the message.

“Get in,” said another hoarse voice, pulling up next to me and breaking my train of thought. In my deep thoughts, I had barely noticed Grandma Mimi’s car. It was only the second time I had ever seen her drive, and she looked strange sitting behind the wheel.

Sitting in a car period…

I happily climbed in, my legs aching from Coach Davis’s brutal tryouts.

Chapter

Forty-Eight

Seeing Grandma Mimi drive was like catching a glimpse of the Hubble telescope in the sky. I enjoyed watching her, the way her tiny porcelain hands grasped the wheel. She was so short that she sat on the edge of the seat, her nose tipped up as she struggled to see the road over the wheel. Her face was filled with tiny wrinkle lines and age spots, but I never doubted the fact that once upon a time, Grandma Mimi was a beautiful girl.

I’d seen pictures of her, with a fancy headdress and jeweled leotard, kicking out her legs in a glamorous pose. I’d seen silly shots of her and my dad when he was little and she was young. Her hair, now white and cut short, was once long and silky, white-blonde. Her eyes were one thing that still hadn’t aged—they were so blue, like tiny rare crystals.

She saw me staring and smiled.

“Why do you hide away, always staying in the house?” I asked her.

It was a random question, but one I’d wanted to ask for years now. I barely knew her when I was young, not until I was placed in her care. But now that I did know her, I wanted to know more about her and the life that led to her hiding in the house all day.

“I’m not hiding. I’m settling.”

She said it so simply, as though that were enough to fulfill my curiosity.

When she saw that it wasn’t enough, she went on: “I ran around, and was barely around to care for your father…you see, I wasn’t suited for motherhood. I lived a glamorous life, filled with money and fame and important people. I thought it was what I wanted. I thought it was the most important thing. But the truth be told, none of it ever really mattered. Your father grew up and his father—my husband—died. And I missed out on everything. I thought I had so much time to settle down. But sometimes all you have to do is blink and it’s over…life, that is…”

“But
I’m
here now, Grandma. Your life isn’t over,” I pointed out, suddenly softening to the pained expression on her face. “What my father did, in that bank…it wasn’t your fault, Grandma Mimi,” I added.

Taking her eyes off the road, she looked at me, shocked. “Of course it was.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything. We rode home in silence until we were pulling in the driveway.

“There’s a letter for you on the kitchen table,” she said briskly.

“From who?” I asked. But she didn’t answer. She got out of the car and went inside, locking herself in her room again.

I stood in the kitchen, staring at the letter on the table. It was addressed to me and it was stamped with Crimson County Juvenile Hall’s address.

Taking a deep breath, I ripped it open and sat down to read Sydney’s letter.

Dear Amanda,

I know we haven’t been friends for long, but it feels like I’ve known you forever. I’ve always admired you, growing up without parents to care for you. I never realized it before, but…you and I are a lot alike. More alike than you probably know.

I know it’s different…my parents have money and I’ve always grown up having nice things. But the truth is, they’ve never been around. They buy me things and leave me money, but they live their own life, a life dedicated to their careers.

I’m lonely. In here, at home, wherever I go…

In a room full of people, I still feel lonely.

There’s only one person I’ve ever had, and that was Dakota. At first, when you came in the picture, I’ll admit it—I was jealous.

But then I realized how cool you were and suddenly, I had two best friends. I felt less lonely than I ever have.

Amanda, I’m not mad at you for the things you said to Detective Simms. My Grandma Rose—the one you talked to on Facebook? She has something called Alzheimer’s disease. She doesn’t remember who I am—or anyone—most days. I did dissect a pig in Advanced Biology, but so did five other classes and anyone could have gained access to the lab. Mrs. Faulklin rarely even locks the room to her classroom.

I never hurt Genevieve, although I’ll admit I’ve never liked her. You know how smart I am: would I leave a bloody crowbar under my bed? If I was going to “fake” my own kidnapping, would I take out a motel reservation in my name? No way! I’m not that stupid!

Someone set me up.

The only part I can’t figure out is why Ashleigh would tell you that. Why in the world she would say I told her to try to kill me last year…or to pretend to kill me. It makes no sense.

Unless she’s got a reason to set me up…

I’ll be honest, Amanda. I don’t think Ashleigh is the one behind all of the pranks last year and this year. Well, they’re way more than pranks at this point, don’t you think?

I don’t think she did a lot of those things; she couldn’t have done some of the recent stunts because she was locked up.

The person who kidnapped me…they locked me up in a basement and kept me blindfolded. I couldn’t see my captor and I never heard that person speak. But one thing, I did notice—SHE was wearing heavy perfume. Her touch, her smell…left no doubts: “the sociopath” is a female.

Amanda, please be careful. I think there’s someone at Harrow High pulling the strings and we’re all the puppets.

Someone who hates school, and really hates the cheerleaders in particular.

Someone who took advantage of a weak person like Ashleigh Westerfield just to toy with us.

I’m afraid something really bad is going to happen, something worse than what already has…

I have this awful feeling that I just can’t shake.

Please know that I’m not mad at you. Just please…keep Dakota safe for me and don’t forget to watch your back. You guys are all that I have, my one true family in this world.

Love,

Sydney