The Good Girls

“I think so,” Julie said. “There was something about Leslie, and Claire . . .”

 

 

Mac pitched her gaze to the ceiling. “I said Claire.” Her cheeks turned red.

 

“And Parker’s dad,” Julie added. “Granger had written all of them down.”

 

“Not Ashley Ferguson, though,” Parker added, and Julie nodded. That was true. But maybe he just hadn’t known who Ashley was at the time. She didn’t take film studies.

 

“Do you think it’s possible someone else heard us, too?” Caitlin interrupted. “Aside from Granger, I mean?”

 

Julie frowned. “Someone else in the classroom?”

 

Caitlin shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably.”

 

“Even if they did, what are you saying? That person snuck into the prison yard of a maximum-security prison and stabbed a guy to death?”

 

“Maybe? Let’s just go over it. Who else was in the room that day?”

 

Ava shut her eyes. “Ursula Winters. Renee Foley. Alex, but he was all the way on the other side of the room, talking to Nolan.”

 

“Oliver Hodges, Ben Riddle, and Quentin Aaron,” Mac added. “James Wong—”

 

“His dad’s a congressman, and he’s a lock for Harvard early admission,” Ava interrupted. “He wouldn’t do anything that stupid. Cross him off the list.”

 

“Oh, like we wouldn’t do anything as stupid as pranking someone, because we’re headed for Juilliard and soccer scholarships and all?” Mac said.

 

Ava paled. “Okay,” she admitted. “James Wong could have heard us, too.”

 

“Claire was there,” Mac added. “So maybe it’s her? If she heard me say I wanted her dead, she’d be the type who’d get revenge.”

 

Caitlin tapped her lips. “What about Ursula? She wants to beat me at all costs.”

 

“By killing people?” Parker looked at them skeptically. Julie had to admit it sounded pretty extreme. No one said anything.

 

Julie shut her eyes, realizing what they sounded like. “Guys, this is crazy. No one heard us talking except for Granger. And I saw that legal pad with my own two eyes. Even if the cops find it, our names aren’t on it. It doesn’t prove anything.”

 

“What happened to the legal pad?” Caitlin asked. “Do you know?”

 

Julie tried to think, but they’d been in such a rush to get out of there when Mr. Granger surprised them by returning home so soon. “I’m not sure,” she admitted.

 

Parker looked confused, too. “I thought I grabbed it, but I have no idea where it could have gone.”

 

“Which means it’s still out there somewhere.” Ava looked worried. “The police could have found it in Granger’s house. Or someone else could have it now. The person who actually killed Granger.”

 

Mac had flopped back onto the bed while they talked, her dirty blond hair splayed out around her. “Guys,” she said, “we’re getting worked up over nothing. Parker’s dad’s death has nothing to do with this—with us. He was probably a prime target considering what he did to Parker. I mean, aren’t people who hurt their kids usually ganged up on in prison? This is the last thing we should worry about. And how impossible would it be for someone in high school to arrange to have a prisoner killed?”

 

“She’s probably right,” Julie said.

 

“Yeah.” Caitlin pulled her arms inside her sweatshirt and hugged herself. “Sorry I brought it up.”

 

“It’s fine,” Mac said, squeezing her arm. “It’s good to think about all the angles. But right now, we should be looking at the bright side in all this. It sucks that Alex was arrested, but it means we’re okay. We can put this all behind us.”

 

“You’re right,” Julie said softly. They should be thrilled and happy and relieved right now, not worrying about random, crazy theories that didn’t make sense. They weren’t going to jail. Parker was still with her. She had good friends, too—friends who cared about her, no matter what.

 

And maybe that was all they needed right now. But as she sat back, she couldn’t help saying one more thing. “Coincidence or not, I’m really glad Markus Duvall is dead.”

 

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER SEVEN

 

 

WEDNESDAY NIGHT, MAC STOOD IN front of her bedroom mirror, holding up a brand-new dress patterned with splashy vibrant peonies. Her mother had presumably bought it that afternoon, and she’d laid it on her bed with a note that said, Wear me tonight! Mac wrinkled her nose. With Mac’s chunky, dark-framed glasses and wild, untamed blond hair, it made her look half librarian, half Little House on the Prairie—in other words, totally not cool. Why couldn’t she just wear jeans? Was the Juilliard party that fancy?

 

But maybe it was. It was the official Juilliard welcome event for Washington State, after all. And she was excited about meeting some of her new classmates.

 

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