Hazel leapt out of the way as the front door slammed against the wall.
“God! Oh God, Hazel! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” Charlie’s father lurched forward to grab the door, holding out a reassuring hand. “It’s just me, kiddo. My key was stuck in the lock for a minute. Just me. Don’t be scared.”
Hazel panted, struggling to catch her breath. She switched off the cordless and held it in both hands.
“Are you all right?”
She cleared her throat and tried to smile, having no idea if she actually managed it. She wondered how much she should tell him.
“There was a wrong number. I think it was kids pranking. But they were really trying to scare me—”
“Oh. Well, we can’t have that. I’ll try redialing and seeing if I can find out who they were. I’m sorry about that, Hazel. What did they say?”
She hesitated, and in that space, he asked, “How’s Charlie?”
“He had a pretty good night. He’s asleep now.”
Mr. Pollins sighed. His shoulders slumped. “He’s still awfully overwhelmed.”
Hazel figured Mr. Pollins was pretty overwhelmed too. He looked tired. Bags formed under his bloodshot eyes. He yawned.
“These past few nights I’ve had to work late and I’m not as young as I used to be.” He glanced over at her. “Did Charlie talk about Isotope?”
She nodded. He looked at her very sadly. “I don’t know if I should tell him this or not, but I found Isotope.”
Hazel’s heart thudded. “Oh. No.”
“He’d been dead a couple of days. I think he ate something. Snail bait, maybe. I put him in the trash. Don’t tell Charlie. I need to do it myself.”
“Snail bait?” she asked. “You mean he was poisoned. Not…injured?”
“Not a scratch. I can only hope he didn’t suffer.” He reached for his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”
Hazel was grateful that Mr. Pollins had insisted on walking her to her car. She set her cell phone in the cup holder between the two front seats. Then she slid in and started the engine.
“Thanks again.” Mr. Pollins gave her a wave and went back into the house.
As Hazel pulled away from the curb, her phone lit up. She grabbed it out of the cup holder.
It was a text message.
YRSECRETPAL2PURPLEHAZE: Here, kitty kitty!
“You guys,” she said, her voice wavering.
PERSONAL BLOG
HAPPY2BME
HAZEL THINKS HER FRIENDS ARE SWEET? SHE’LL LEARN. THEY’RE SWEET AS SNAIL BAIT. OR SWEET AS HORSE MEAT.
I TRIED TO WARN HER. I’M RIGHT UNDER HER NOSE AND SHE DOESN’T EVEN SEE ME. IT’S NOT MY FAULT IF SHE GETS HURT. AND SOMEONE IS GOING TO HURT…VERY SOON.
THE FEELING IS BUILDING AGAIN. SO QUICKLY.
NO ONE AND NOTHING CAN STOP IT.
Ms. Carpentier was not at all pleased.
It wasn’t a good way to start a school week.
“Your grades in this class have taken a real tumble,” the teacher scolded. She clasped her hands and leaned forward—probably something she’d learned in a seminar on how to relate to her students.
Hazel stood in front of her desk with her backpack on. Breona slouched beside her.
“Both of you are falling behind. Now, whatever is wrong between you, I want you to sort it out or go see the school counselor.”
“Like couples therapy? Hate to break it to you, Ms. C., but I don’t swing that way,” Breona said, snickering. The sound was raspy, familiar. Hazel wondered: had she heard it before?
“Breona…” Ms. Carpentier rolled her eyes.
“Fine.” Breona took a breath and turned to Hazel. “I’m sorry I called you a bitch and accused you of stealing a carnation that the cheerleaders bought—for the football team only.”
“Apology accepted,” Hazel muttered.
“So.” Ms. Carpentier leaned back in her chair. A self-satisfied grin curled the corners of her mouth. “Are we all settled?”
Hazel nodded.
“Good. Then get to class.”
Hazel turned and hurried away. Only two minutes to get to next period!
She jogged through the halls, thinking.
Breona’s weird laugh. That raspy snicker. Could Breona have made the calls to the Pollins house?
A month ago, Hazel wouldn’t have thought it possible. Then again, she would never have thought Breona would have a meltdown over a carnation, either.
But it wasn’t just a carnation. It was Matty’s carnation.
Is that what this is about? Hazel wondered. Is she freaking me out to get back at me for dating the guy she wants?
No. Don’t go there, Hazel thought. Matty’s my boyfriend. Breona must know that. It would be crazy for her to think she has a chance with him.
Hazel rushed through the busy corridor. Lakshmi trotted up beside her.
“Hey, Hazel, wait up! I have something for you.” She pushed two sheets of paper at her.
“What’s this?”
“Next week’s chemistry quiz. I already wrote in most of the answers.”
“Oh my God. Where did you get this?” Hazel asked, swallowing hard. She and Lakshmi had never been the kind of girls who cheated on tests.
“My mom was copying it for Carpentier in the main office. Take it. Maybe you could share it with your friends. You know, let them know where you got it?”
Hazel turned. Lakshmi was blushing.
Payback, Hazel realized. Lakshmi was looking for juice from this little favor. Too bad Sylvia would never do anything nice for Lakshmi in return. Maybe thank her. But that would be about it.
“Hey, thanks,” she said warmly, opening up her backpack to deposit the test. “That is so nice of you.” Hazel’s purple PLD scrunchie was sitting on top.
“Here,” she said, impulsively handing it over. “From us. Just don’t tell anyone.”
Lakshmi’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, wow, thanks!”
The bell rang. Lakshmi waved the scrunchie over her head. “Thanks a lot, Haze. See you later!”
“Lakshmi! Don’t wear it in school!” Hazel called after her. Then she turned and ran to class. I’d better remember to get to Savon to replace that. If Sylvia finds out I gave my scrunchie to Lakshmi, she’ll kill me.
Hazel’s phone vibrated during sixth-period English.
PLDEL2PURPLEHAZE: Can U sit 4 me 2nite?
PURPLEHAZE2PLDEL: Whaddup?
PLDEL2PURPLEHAZE: Want 2 see Brandon. Itz a secret. Plz don’t tell Sylvia!
The Darling twins stared dully at Hazel.
“We’re dead,” Katie informed her.
“Not tonight,” Hazel said. “Pull that again and I’ll tell Sylvia how bad you’ve been. And you don’t want Sylvia mad at you, do you?”
The twins opened their blue eyes wide. They squealed in mock fright and ran to their bedrooms, slamming the doors behind them.
That’s better, Hazel thought. At least they’ll be out of my hair for a while.
Hazel took off her coat and strolled around the main floor. The last place she wanted to be was back at the creepy Darling house, especially after her weird night at Charlie’s. Hazel’s nerves were jangled for sure, but Ellen had begged until she folded.
And anyway, Hazel decided, what could be better than helping out a pair of star-crossed lovers?
Romeo and Juliet. Brandon and Ellen, she mused. They were all in the same boat. Of course, Romeo and Juliet’s story didn’t turn out so well in the end.
Hazel walked into the kitchen. The twins’ mother had left a vegetable lasagna in the microwave. Hazel was supposed to open the salad packet and pour some shiitake mushroom dressing on it. That was the extent of “fixing dinner.”
The doorbell rang. The twins burst out of their bedrooms and thundered toward the front door.
“Katie, Chrissie! Let me get it!” Hazel shouted. But before she could stop them, they unlocked the door and jerked it open.
Sylvia stood on the threshold, blinking at her in surprise.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, walking into the room.
“I’m…I’m taking care of the twins,” Hazel answered.
“But this is Ellen’s gig,” Sylvia argued.
“I offered to take it for her. Because…um, something came up.”
For a moment, Sylvia remained silent.
“No, no, no, Hazel,” she said after a moment. “This is not something we do. We don’t trade assignments.”
The twins were intrigued, looking from one PLD to the other.
“The parents like consistency,” Sylvia explained. “That’s one of the reasons they come to us. They know what to expect. They call and I arrange the schedule. It’s part of our service.”
“Oh.” Hazel knit her brows together, confused. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to help out.”
Sylvia sighed and shook her head. “What am I saying? Of course you didn’t know better. This is Ellen’s fault.”
The microwave dinged. Hazel went into the kitchen while Sylvia and the twins waited in the living room.
She popped open the microwave door and checked the lasagna. It was only lukewarm, so she added a few minutes. She dumped the salad into a white ceramic bowl, unscrewed the cap on the bottle of dressing, sniffed it experimentally, and poured it on.
She placed the salad on the spotless slate table in the breakfast nook. The Darlings had a maid service. Hazel had found that out the first time she sat for the girls. She had told Katie to help clear the table after dinner. Katie had said, “Oh, don’t worry. We have people for that.”
The microwave beeped. Hazel put on a pair of hot mitts and took out the lasagna.
“You guys?” she called. “Dinner’s ready.”
After a couple of minutes, the twins and Sylvia swept into the room.
“Oh! Tell me you’re not having any of that!” Sylvia said, wrinkling her nose.
“I, well…” Hazel glanced at the tray, disappointed. She had never had vegetable lasagna. In her house, it would be considered “fancy.”
Sylvia picked up two plates and said to Hazel, “Give them some milk. Then come with me. I have something cool to show you.”
Hazel’s stomach growled. Thankfully, no one else heard it. She poured two glasses of milk and set them down before the twins.
“Eat,” she urged.
“We don’t eat,” Katie said. “We’re dead.”
“No. You’re in huge trouble if you don’t eat,” Sylvia cut in. “We’re back in ten, and if you haven’t eaten half of that…” She drew a finger across her throat.
Katie and Chrissie quickly picked up their forks and dug in.
On their way down the hall, Sylvia whispered to Hazel, “Do you know what’s in that stuff? Wheat paste. The same kind we used to glue construction paper together in elementary school.”
“Ew,” Hazel said, grimacing.
“Exactly. But come see something tasty.”
Sylvia pushed open the door at the end of the hall. She wiggled her fingertips at Hazel as if to say, This way. Hazel followed her—right into Cynthia Darling’s bedroom.
“Um…isn’t this off-limits?” she asked.
Sylvia went straight to the Macintosh on the desk next to the closet. “Don’t be silly. Watch this.” She typed in a line and clicked the mouse.
As Hazel bent over her shoulder, the screen filled with the words BROOKHAVEN HIGH SCHOOL STUDENT RECORDS.
“Oh my God! Really?” Hazel asked, leaning closer.
“Really,” Sylvia said. She hit enter.
RESTRICTED: ACCESS CODE REQUIRED.
“Oh,” Hazel said, deflated. “Too bad.”
“Pffft,” Sylvia scoffed. She typed in a string of characters—they came out as asterisks—and hit return. The log-in screen dissolved, and a list of files blinked into view. “I don’t believe it! You’re in!”
“Mais oui! So. Who do you want dirt on?” Sylvia asked. A list of names scrolled down the screen.
Hazel watched, stunned. These were students’ “permanent records”—all the stuff the administration put in student files…and never let them see.
“Oh, look,” Sylvia chirped. “Here’s Breona’s little friend Jenna Babcock.”
She hummed to herself as she highlighted Jenna’s name. “Cheer, cheer, cheer. Three-point-two GPA. Wow, she really is boring.”
“Yeah,” Hazel said, her eyes devouring the screen. She couldn’t believe it. Was she really seeing this?
“Ooh, how about little Lakshmi Sharma?” Sylvia suggested. “Let’s see. She’s been in the a cappella group for three years. Bo-ring! Hey, wait a minute. Who was your friend from last year? Was it Joy?” Sylvia tapped the screen with her acrylic nail. “Joy Krasner?”
“Yes,” Hazel affirmed. “But she moved….”
Sylvia scrolled back up the screen. “Nonetheless…here she is.” She highlighted Joy’s name. The single line opened up into a file. Together they scanned Joy’s grades, which were pretty good. Her extracurriculars were cool, too: drama club, film club….
“Oh, look here. She was seeing Clasen,” Sylvia pointed out.
Ms. Clasen was the school psychologist.
…Joy is still struggling with her bulimia…. Episodes consistent with original diagnosis…The San Jose Center for Eating Disorders has received her intake summary….
Sylvia looked from the screen to Hazel. “Did you know Joy was going to the loony bin?”
Hazel shook her head as she read on…. It didn’t make sense.
Sylvia opened a new window and typed, SAN JOSE CENTER FOR EATING DISORDERS into Google.
San Jose Center for Eating Disorders, located in East San Jose, is a residential treatment facility dedicated to providing effective, quality care for children, adolescents, and adults. The average length of stay is three months, although some patients remain on-site for up to twelve months.
“Oh my God,” Hazel whispered.
“Wait. You mean you really didn’t know about any of this?” Sylvia pressed, sounding mildly incredulous.
“We haven’t been writing. I sent her some e-mails, but she didn’t reply. I thought…new school, moving on….” She covered her mouth. “Poor Joy.”
Sylvia sighed and pushed away from the keyboard. “Poor communication,” she said. “That’s not the way friends treat friends, Haze. Friends tell each other everything.”
Hazel nodded as she continued to read. She crossed her arms over her chest, taking in the pictures of low buildings trailing with bougainvillea, the smiling portraits of the staff. Joy was in a place like this?
Her old blog had been titled JOYFULLGRL. She had always seemed so happy.
“Oh God. I never knew,” Hazel confessed. “We hung out all school year and I didn’t have a clue.”
“That wouldn’t happen with us,” Sylvia informed her. “Sure, the PLDs are hard on each other. We tease each other a lot, but we’re totally solid. We let each other know things. We are each other’s support. We have to stay tight.”
“I guess I didn’t realize how rare it was. Or how important,” Hazel said.
“We are the most popular girls in school,” Sylvia stated without a trace of bragging. “Breona and her cheerleaders think they are, but that is so stupid, because after high school, they are going to go nowhere. This is their finest hour, and they don’t even know it.”
Sylvia perched on Cynthia’s bed. Her eyes shone. “Why? Because we’re smarter than they are. We’re the ones in the middle of the herd. Just us. Just the PLDs. Other people are going to come and go. But we’re going to have each other. Real lives. And real friends—forever. When you have a crisis, you can come to us. When something wonderful happens, we want to hear about it first.” She paused. “But you have to share, Hazel. Let your friends really know you.”
Sylvia held out her arms. “Look at me. I’m an open book. Ask me something.”
Hazel blinked at her. “Like what?”
“Anything. Like, something I wouldn’t tell just anybody. Something I would only tell a friend.”
“Um…”
Sylvia gave her dark hair a shake. “See? You’re too shy to ask me. You don’t think you have the right. But you can ask me anything. So go ahead.”
Hazel thought about the games of truth or dare she had played at sleepovers.
“Okay. Are you a virgin?” She blushed uncontrollably, but Sylvia snickered, unconcerned.
“I lost my virginity when I was fourteen. In France.” She looked expectantly at Hazel. “What about you?”
“Oh. God, I…” She rubbed her forehead. “I, um…”
“Remember, it’s about trust.” She gave Hazel a slow grin, reached down, and opened the bottom drawer of the bedside table.
“This will help.” She pulled out a bottle of Cointreau.
“Whoa!” Hazel exclaimed. “Do all the parents stash this much alcohol around?”
“More or less. Some message for the kiddies, huh?” Sylvia opened the bottle and took a hefty swig. Then she wiped off the lip and handed it to Hazel.
“Um, I…” She looked down at the bottle.
“Oh, go ahead. There aren’t any glasses in here anyway.
Hazel hesitated. Sylvia took the bottle, put it to Hazel’s lips, and gave it a little tip. The thick liquor splashed into Hazel’s mouth. It was good—orange-flavored. She drank some more.
Sylvia smiled at her. Then she reached into the drawer again and brought out a joint.
“Shut up!” Hazel cried.
Sylvia winced. “Haze. No one says, ‘Shut up’, anymore.”
“I know. It’s just—we can’t smoke that.” She gestured to the joint. “She’ll know.”
“You’re right.” Sylvia dropped it back into the drawer and shut it. “And I know you have a secret, Hazel. Something you’re not telling me. But if you want to be a PLD, you have to share.”
Hazel met Sylvia’s bright blue stare. She thought about Joy—how she didn’t know anything about her, despite the fact that they were supposed to have been close. She didn’t want that to happen again. She wanted real friends. Friends till the end.
She grabbed the bottle of Cointreau, took a swig, and made a decision. “All right. I worked at a stable over the summer. There was this guy.”
Sylvia waited. “Like, a ranch hand?”
Hazel nodded. “He led trail rides. His name was Andy. He was maybe in his mid-twenties. He bought beer one night. We had a little too much to drink—well, I did, anyway….” She let her words trail off.
“That was the first time?” Sylvia asked.
Hazel nodded again.
“Did you regret it?” Sylvia gazed at her sympathetically.
“It all happened so fast.” Hazel’s voice cracked. “God, I sound like an after-school special.”
“Oh, Haze.” Sylvia sighed, pulling her into a hug. “You’re so incredibly sweet.”
Hazel melted against her shoulder. It was such a relief to finally tell someone the truth. She had held it in for so long.
“I can’t believe I did it. I wish I could take it back,” she muttered.
Sylvia pulled away and looked into Hazel’s damp eyes. She pushed an errant piece of hair away from Hazel’s forehead. “Yeah, I get that. But it could have been much worse. I know you’re upset. But this isn’t as bad as you think. If you didn’t get pregnant and you don’t have a disease, let it go. Move on.”
She cocked her head. “You’ve been pretty sheltered, haven’t you? Your parents…I don’t think I’ve ever seen them around Brookhaven.”
“My parents?” Hazel guffawed. “My parents haven’t been anywhere. The other night, my mom said something about how people in Scotland should learn to speak English.”
Sylvia chortled. “Oh my God! How clueless is that?”
Then the mood shifted back. “Listen, I’m glad you told me,” Sylvia said earnestly. “It’s a sacred trust.”
“Thank you. I’m glad I told you too,” Hazel replied.
Sylvia returned to the computer and pulled up the screen with the student files again. She dropped down to WU, BREONA.
“Let’s see here…” she murmured.
Intrigued, Hazel bent over Sylvia’s shoulder. Sylvia pushed the bottle of Cointreau toward her, and Hazel had another drink.
“Hmm, this is interesting. Seems Breona is having some problems. She’s on antidepressants.”
“Whoa,” Hazel breathed.
“That might explain why she’s such a bitch.” Sylvia paused for a moment, thinking. “Wait. No, it doesn’t.”
Chuckling softly, Hazel took another swig of Cointreau. If you opened your mouth when you drank it, the evaporation was like a little flame going off. It was an interesting feeling.
“Hmm, nothing about her drug bust. The paperwork must not be complete.”
“Wait a minute,” Hazel said, her thoughts slowing—growing fuzzy. “The drug bust. You guys called in antidepressants?”
“Well…” Sylvia shrugged.
Hazel frowned. “Come on. You said friends share.”
“Maybe we put a few extra little things in her locker.”
“What?” Hazel nearly choked.
“Oh, please, Breona’s drug use is well known. We didn’t put anything in there that hadn’t been in there before.”
Hazel stared at her. “So you planted the drugs, and then you called it in?”
“Yes. And with good reason.” Sylvia pushed the chair away from the monitor and folded her hands across her lap. “Let me tell you why I hate Breona. Because everyone thinks it’s just about Josh, and that’s not true.”
Hazel settled back onto the bed to listen.
“Breona and I started out as friends,” Sylvia began. “In fifth grade. We were the smartest girls. And the prettiest. We were in all the same activities. We told everyone we were best friends forever.” She smiled faintly. “But that wasn’t enough for Breona. She was jealous. She didn’t want anyone else hanging out with me. If they tried, she’d throw a tantrum or be mean. She started actually hitting the other girls. I didn’t do any of it, but I got blamed right along with her. I spent more time sitting in the principal’s office waiting for my mom to pick me up than I did in class.”
“Yow,” Hazel said. “That sucks.”
“Hugely. I told my mother what was going on. Thank God she believed me. She said I couldn’t play with Breona anymore. That was more than fine with me. Then Breona went nuts. She wouldn’t leave me alone. She kept calling my house and coming by, begging me to be her friend.” Sylvia looked at Hazel. “Serious boundary issues.”
“No doubt,” Hazel said, taking another swig of Cointreau. She felt pleasantly dizzy.
“Things kept escalating. My parents talked to her parents. My mom suggested therapy, and Breona’s mom went nuts.”
“No way. Really?”
“Really. We just wanted them to stay away from us. Life went on. Fifth grade ended. We were zoned for different middle schools—proving there is a God.” Sylvia ironically made the sign of the cross. “I thought I was free of Breona Wu.”
Her voice dropped. She took a deep breath, a dainty sip of Cointreau….
“And then my dog,” she said finally. “His name was Asterix.”
“What happened to him?” Hazel asked.
“I don’t know.” Sylvia’s eyes welled. “He disappeared. I couldn’t prove that Breona had anything to do with it. Even though I knew. People said he must have gone out the side gate. But we always closed that gate.”
A single tear slid down Sylvia’s cheek. Hazel had never seen her look so vulnerable.
“Oh, Sylvia, I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “That’s…that’s just awful.”
“She kind of haunted me after that. I’d get calls, but there would be no one on the other end. She’d make up terrible stories about me and tell them behind my back. I lost a few friends from it. She could be so convincing.”
Sylvia took a hefty swallow of the Cointreau. “And now we both go to Brookhaven. And nothing I have ever done to her can begin to compare to what she’s done to me.” She pushed a dark tendril of hair away from her forehead. “No one knows about this except the other PLDs—and now you. I hate her, Hazel. I really, really do.”
“I don’t blame you,” Hazel replied, taking Sylvia’s hand. Then she thought of something.
“Sylvia,” she began. “I’ve been getting these weird phone calls…not the ones from you guys. They’re different. Really scary. And when Breona saw my green carnation, she went totally insane. She called me a bitch and ran out of class.”
“Oh God.” Sylvia pressed her fingertips against her forehead.
“There’s more. Charlie’s dad found Isotope. He might have been poisoned.”
Sylvia gasped. “That poor little kid.”
Hazel took a deep breath. “And now…with Jilly’s horse. I wonder….”
“It has to be Breona.” Sylvia exhaled slowly. “We have to be very careful. All of us. God knows what she’s capable of.”
“Sylvia?” a child’s voice called impatiently. “We finished our dinner. We’re supposed to take our baths tonight.”
Sylvia sighed. “Duty calls.” She hit the function keys to shut Cynthia’s computer down. Hazel stretched and put the cap back on the Cointreau bottle, replacing it in the drawer. She straightened up the papers around the keyboard.
“I’ll show you how to check the files yourself,” Sylvia promised, standing up. “You need to arm yourself, Hazel. School is like war. You know that now, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” Hazel replied.
“Of course you do,” Sylvia agreed. She cupped Hazel’s cheek. “It’s okay. You’re okay now. You’re with us.”
“Thanks,” Hazel said. And suddenly, sharply, she did feel a little bit better.
“C’mon, I’ll help you give these monsters their baths,” Sylvia offered. “But if they pull that ‘dead’ crap again…” She gestured as if she were pushing someone’s head underwater.
“What are we going to do about Breona?” Hazel asked. “She’s an accident waiting to happen.”
“Breona will keep at us until she gets a reaction,” Sylvia continued. “That’s her style. Don’t worry. I’m thinking about payback. In a big, big way.”
Hazel laughed, but a funny feeling burrowed under her scalp.
Must be all the liquor, she thought. She turned from the bedroom, closing the door behind her.