I’d liked him from the moment we met, but I knew better; if you mess with the queen bee, you’re gonna get stung.
“That’s cool, Claire. You guys make a great couple.”
“I know, right? Let’s go shopping.”
We scurried through the hall and bolted out the door that led to the student parking lot.
***
When we got back to school, I noticed Detective Walters sitting in his car in the parking lot. Claire parked and turned off the ignition. As we got out of the car, Detective Walters walked towards us.
“Shouldn’t you girls be in class?”
“We had a few errands to run,” Claire answered.
“I can see that,” Detective Walters said sarcastically, pointing at the bags in the backseat. Claire flashed a wry smile. “I need to have a word with you, Claire,” he continued.
“Really? About what?” she asked as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“I spoke to some of the students at your school, and they all said you and Miss Tillier didn’t get along. In fact , a lot of students witnessed the two of you fighting in the hall, and you said she’d better be ready for her own funeral.”
Claire flashed a devilish smile as she leaned against her car with her arms crossed at her chest.
“Duh…everybody knows Brooke and I didn’t get along, but I’m not a murderer. And just for the record, I said she’d be dressed for her own funeral because she always wore black. It was a figure of speech,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Miss Miller, where were you on September 25th, between 8pm and 10pm?”
“If you must know, I was hanging out with Jessica at her house.”
“The whole time?”
“Yeah. We were going over our cheer routine for the homecoming game.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch,” Detective Walters said, then walked back to his car. As soon as he padded away, Claire collected her iPhone from her purse and started messaging somebody.
“Who are you texting?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she snapped back.
She clutched her phone as her fingers rapidly pounded the screen. As she bit her bottom lip with a perturbed look pasted on her face, I couldn’t shake the feeling Claire was hiding something–and I had to find out what.
CHAPTER SEVEN—WHO IS THAT GIRL?
After school, I went to the library to meet Stephanie. On my way there, I texted my mom to let her know so she wouldn’t send out a search party to look for me. When I got to the library, Stephanie was sitting on the bench talking on her Samsung.
“Hey!” she trilled, waving her hand. “I’ll talk to you later,” she mumbled before ending the call.
She stood up, and we padded into the library. An older woman was sitting at the front desk, wearing a pair of metal framed glasses that hung on her nose. She had on a blue cardigan sweater, and her hair was in a bun. She smiled at us as we passed her. We glided around a small group of people sitting on black leather couches. A cluster of independent study cubicles was in the far corner, and a row of workstations was next to them. I spotted a small, unoccupied round table, so we grabbed it. After we sat down, Stephanie fetched a notepad and pen from her pleather handbag.
“So, why don’t you tell me what happened?” she started.
I told her Brooke and I had planned to meet at the bleachers that night, but she never showed up. Then I told her everything that happened at her house the day I found her.
“Wow, that’s crazy,” she said as she scribbled on her notepad. “So, do the police have any leads?”
I didn’t want to say anything about the detective questioning Claire. That would be throwing her under the bus, and I wasn’t prepared to do that.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay. Anything else you want to add?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, I think I got everything I need,” she said as she started packing up her stuff forty-five minutes later. “Thanks a lot, Hanna.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
Stephanie stood up and placed
“That’s cool, Claire. You guys make a great couple.”
“I know, right? Let’s go shopping.”
We scurried through the hall and bolted out the door that led to the student parking lot.
***
When we got back to school, I noticed Detective Walters sitting in his car in the parking lot. Claire parked and turned off the ignition. As we got out of the car, Detective Walters walked towards us.
“Shouldn’t you girls be in class?”
“We had a few errands to run,” Claire answered.
“I can see that,” Detective Walters said sarcastically, pointing at the bags in the backseat. Claire flashed a wry smile. “I need to have a word with you, Claire,” he continued.
“Really? About what?” she asked as she tossed her hair over her shoulder.
“I spoke to some of the students at your school, and they all said you and Miss Tillier didn’t get along. In fact , a lot of students witnessed the two of you fighting in the hall, and you said she’d better be ready for her own funeral.”
Claire flashed a devilish smile as she leaned against her car with her arms crossed at her chest.
“Duh…everybody knows Brooke and I didn’t get along, but I’m not a murderer. And just for the record, I said she’d be dressed for her own funeral because she always wore black. It was a figure of speech,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Miss Miller, where were you on September 25th, between 8pm and 10pm?”
“If you must know, I was hanging out with Jessica at her house.”
“The whole time?”
“Yeah. We were going over our cheer routine for the homecoming game.”
“Okay. I’ll be in touch,” Detective Walters said, then walked back to his car. As soon as he padded away, Claire collected her iPhone from her purse and started messaging somebody.
“Who are you texting?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she snapped back.
She clutched her phone as her fingers rapidly pounded the screen. As she bit her bottom lip with a perturbed look pasted on her face, I couldn’t shake the feeling Claire was hiding something–and I had to find out what.
CHAPTER SEVEN—WHO IS THAT GIRL?
After school, I went to the library to meet Stephanie. On my way there, I texted my mom to let her know so she wouldn’t send out a search party to look for me. When I got to the library, Stephanie was sitting on the bench talking on her Samsung.
“Hey!” she trilled, waving her hand. “I’ll talk to you later,” she mumbled before ending the call.
She stood up, and we padded into the library. An older woman was sitting at the front desk, wearing a pair of metal framed glasses that hung on her nose. She had on a blue cardigan sweater, and her hair was in a bun. She smiled at us as we passed her. We glided around a small group of people sitting on black leather couches. A cluster of independent study cubicles was in the far corner, and a row of workstations was next to them. I spotted a small, unoccupied round table, so we grabbed it. After we sat down, Stephanie fetched a notepad and pen from her pleather handbag.
“So, why don’t you tell me what happened?” she started.
I told her Brooke and I had planned to meet at the bleachers that night, but she never showed up. Then I told her everything that happened at her house the day I found her.
“Wow, that’s crazy,” she said as she scribbled on her notepad. “So, do the police have any leads?”
I didn’t want to say anything about the detective questioning Claire. That would be throwing her under the bus, and I wasn’t prepared to do that.
“I don’t know.”
“Okay. Anything else you want to add?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, I think I got everything I need,” she said as she started packing up her stuff forty-five minutes later. “Thanks a lot, Hanna.”
“You’re welcome,” I said.
Stephanie stood up and placed
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