The Perfectionists by Sara Shepard
EPIGRAPH
In the midst of life we are in death.
—AGATHA CHRISTIE, And Then There Were None
PROLOGUE
IN MANY WAYS, BEACON HEIGHTS, Washington, looks like any affluent suburb: Porch swings creak gently in the evening breeze, the lawns are green and well kept, and all the neighbors know one another. But this satellite of Seattle is anything but average. In Beacon, it’s not enough to be good; you have to be the best.
With perfection comes pressure. Students here are some of the best in the country, and sometimes, they have to let off a little steam. What five girls don’t know, though, is that steam can scald just as badly as an open flame.
And someone’s about to get burned.
On Friday night, just as the sun was setting, cars began to pull up to Nolan Hotchkiss’s huge, faux-Italian villa on a peninsula overlooking Lake Washington. The house had wrought iron gates, a circular driveway with a marble fountain, multiple balconies, and a three-tiered, crystal chandelier visible through the front two-story window. All the lights were on, loud bass thumped from inside, a cheer rose up from the backyard. Kids with liquor spirited from their parents’ cabinets or bottles of wine shoved into their purses sauntered up to the front steps and walked right inside. No need to ring the bell—Mr. and Mrs. Hotchkiss weren’t home.
Too bad. They were missing the biggest party of the year.
Caitlin Martell-Lewis, dressed in her best pair of straight-leg jeans, a green polo that brought out the amber flecks in her eyes, and TOMS houndstooth sneakers, climbed out of an Escalade with her boyfriend, Josh Friday, and his soccer friends Asher Collins and Timothy Burgess. Josh, whose breath already smelled yeasty from the beer he’d drunk at the pregame party, shaded his brown eyes and gaped at the mansion. “This place is freaking sick.”
Ursula Winters, who desperately wanted to be Timothy’s girlfriend—she was also Caitlin’s biggest soccer rival—stepped out of the backseat and adjusted her oversize, dolman-sleeve shirt. “The kid has it all.”
“Except a soul,” Caitlin muttered, limping up the lawn on her still-sore-from-a-soccer-injury ankle. Silence fell over the group as they stepped inside the grand foyer, with its checkerboard floor and a sweeping double staircase. Josh cast her a sideways glance. “What? I was kidding,” Caitlin said with a laugh.
Because if you spoke out against Nolan—if you so much as boycotted his party—you’d be off the Beacon Heights High A-list. But Nolan had as many enemies as friends, and Caitlin hated him most of all. Her heart pounded, thinking about the secret thing she was about to do. She wondered whether the others were there yet.
The den was filled with candles and fat red cushions. Julie Redding held court in the middle of the room. Her auburn hair hung straight and shiny down her back. She wore a strapless Kate Spade dress and bone-colored high heels that showed off her long, lithe legs. One after another, classmates walked up to her and complimented her outfit, her white teeth, her amazing jewelry, that funny thing she’d said in English class the other day. It was par for the course, naturally—everyone always loved Julie. She was the most popular girl in school.
Then Ashley Ferguson, a junior who’d just dyed her hair the same auburn shade as Julie’s, stopped and gave a reverent smile. “You look amazing,” she gushed, same as the others.
“Thank you,” Julie said modestly.
“Where’d you get the dress?” Ashley asked.
Julie’s friend Nyssa Frankel inserted herself between the two. “Why, Ashley?” she snapped. “Are you going to buy the exact same one?”
Julie laughed as Nyssa and Natalie Houma, another of Julie’s friends, high-fived. Ashley set her jaw and stomped away. Julie bit her lip, wondering if she’d been too mean. There was only one person she wanted to be mean to deliberately tonight.
And that was Nolan.
Meanwhile, Ava Jalali stood with her boyfriend, Alex Cohen, in the Hotchkisses’ reclaimed oak and marble kitchen, nibbling on a carrot stick. She eyed a tower of cupcakes next to the veggie tray longingly. “Remind me why I decided to do a cleanse again?”
“Because you’re insane?” Alex raised his eyebrows mischievously.
Ava gave him an uh-duh look and pushed her smooth, straight, perfect dark hair out of her eyes. She was the type of girl who hated even looking at cross sections of the human body in biology class; she couldn’t stand the idea that she was that ugly and messy inside.