Madison set her violin down on the coffee table. She rubbed her neck as she crossed her living room and took the phone from Gretchen. “You got these messages right after the tryout?”
Gretchen nodded. “Do you believe it? How crazy is this?”
Madison studied the screen. “Well … they are definitely from Devra. There’s her name under the phone number at the top. Devra Dalby. She didn’t try to disguise it or anything.”
Gretchen shook her head. “I guess she wanted me to know the texts came from her.”
“Wow.” Madison handed the phone back to Gretchen. “She doesn’t care what she does. She thinks she’s just above us all. It’s like the rules of decency don’t apply to her.”
Gretchen blinked. “Rules of decency? This is just plain psycho, Madison. What do I do?”
Madison rubbed the soreness from her neck. Gretchen saw that her hands were covered in rosin. “I’ve been practicing for two hours,” she said. “I don’t want to look like a jerk in front of the string quartet.”
Gretchen tucked the phone into her bag. “You won’t look like a jerk. You play beautifully.”
“What if I break a string or something?” Madison’s eyes grew wide. “Oh, I’m sorry. We were talking about you. Sorry to be so self-obsessed.”
“It’s okay,” Gretchen said, perching on the edge of a brown leather armchair and swinging her bag onto her lap. “I just don’t know whether I should ignore these threats. I mean, how serious could they be?”
Madison pressed her hands against the waist of her jeans. “You can’t ignore them, Gretchen. You have to report them.”
“No way. I can’t go to the police.”
Madison shook her head. “No, not the police. You have to show them to Coach Walker. She needs to know what Devra is doing to you.”
Inside Gretchen’s bag, a bell rang. The phone.
Gretchen fumbled in the bag until she found the phone. She raised it to her face and read it. “Another message,” she told Madison. “From Devra.”
GIVE ME A K-I-L-L
Madison squinted at it. Her mouth dropped open. “Oh my God. Gretchen, that’s a death threat. You have to show it to Coach Walker. You don’t have a choice.”
* * *
Coach Walker stared at the messages on Gretchen’s phone. She kept blinking as if trying to blink them away. Her face at first had shown surprise. but now she stared blankly, all the emotion drained from her features.
She blew out a breathy whistle. “Wheeew.”
“I had to show it to you,” Gretchen said, her voice just above a whisper.
They were in Walker’s office. The door was closed. Walker sat stiffly in her desk chair, the glare off the phone reflecting her troubled face. She wore a long-sleeved Shadyside High T-shirt over white gym shorts. Gretchen stood close beside her.
Outside the window, Gretchen could see the cheerleaders practicing a cheer in the center of the gym floor. Their shouts were muffled by the window glass.
“I think Principal Hernandez has to see this,” Coach Walker said. She set the phone down on her desktop. “This is not a small thing, Gretchen. This is very bad.”
Gretchen nodded. She didn’t know what to say.
Walker started to rise from her desk chair. “Maybe we should talk to Devra first,” she said. She didn’t wait for a reply from Gretchen. She pulled open the office door and shouted for Devra to come.
Courtney and Becka were helping Devra practice a Thigh Stand. Devra perched high on their thighs, caught her balance, and raised her arms above her head. Hearing the coach’s call, she leaped to the floor and came running to the office, her red hair bouncing behind her.
Coach Walker ushered her inside and carefully closed the door.
Devra brushed back her hair with both hands. She tugged her white sleeveless T-shirt down over her black tights. She gave Gretchen a quick glance, then turned to the coach. “You wanted to see me?”
Coach Walker motioned for Devra to take the wooden chair against the wall. “Devra I want to ask you about some text messages,” she said.
Devra wrinkled her face, as if confused. “Text messages?” She glanced at Gretchen again.
Gretchen stood with her arms crossed beside the coach’s desk. She held herself tightly, trying to stop her whole body from trembling. She gritted her teeth and tried not to show any emotion at all.
Coach Walker lifted the phone off the desktop and pushed the screen into Devra’s face. “Did you send these threatening messages to Gretchen?”
Devra squinted at them, moving her lips silently as she read the messages. She raised her eyes to Coach Walker. “No way. I didn’t send those.”
The coach held the phone in front of Devra, held it steadily in front of Devra’s face. “Look at the top of the screen, Devra,” she said in a whisper. “That’s your phone number at the top.”
“I swear I didn’t send those messages,” Devra said, her face bright pink. “Someone took my phone. My phone has been missing.”
Gretchen felt a chill run down her back. What a good liar she is. Look at that innocent, wide-eyed expression on her face. If she didn’t send the texts, why is she blushing?
“After the tryout,” Devra said. “The phone wasn’t in my backpack. I think someone stole it.”
“Someone on the squad?” Coach Walker demanded.
Devra shrugged. “I don’t know. I just know my phone was gone. Ask Courtney. She’ll tell you I’m telling the truth. She helped me look for the phone, but we never found it.”
Devra turned her gaze on Gretchen and her features tightened in anger. “You can’t accuse me. I didn’t do it. Do you think I’m crazy? Do you really think I’d send you a death threat? That’s sick.”
Gretchen opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.
“You’re sick,” Devra said. “Did you send those texts to yourself? Did you send them to make me look bad? To get me in trouble and out of your way?” Devra was red-faced, screaming now. “It won’t work, sicko. Because I didn’t send them. I didn’t! I didn’t!”
Gretchen glared back at her without speaking.
She’s lying. It’s obvious. She’s totally lying.