vMayhem At Prescott High - C.M. Stunich Page 0,100
Bernadette, here’s a snitch; if something happens to her, I’ll know you did it.
Because seriously, no police officer—not even one as ignorant as Sara Young—would make the mistake of outing a student informant in front of a possible suspect.
I resist the urge to clench my teeth.
I’m not sure if Kali knows what Sara’s doing; she looks a bit disturbed by the whole situation.
“Kali was telling us how you, her, and Neil had a conversation on that Friday he went missing. She said she saw you getting violent with your stepdad.” I smile and do my best not to blurt out that Kali could very well be carrying Neil’s baby. His or Mitch’s, I guess. Definitely not David’s, I’m sure about that.
David explains how Kali might’ve run into Tom Muller and, by consequence of that, Ophelia Mars. She hates her son; Kali hates me. It might’ve seemed like a match made in heaven. Oscar might think I’m making a jump of logic, assuming Kali went after my stepdad because of his connection to me, but that’s only because he didn’t see the way she was looking at me and Aaron together.
She still has it, that awful, writhing tentacle of jealousy. It’s wrapped around her throat, squeezing the life out of her. I’d feel bad for her, you know, if she hadn’t called Havoc on me.
“I only know what I saw,” Kali says, crossing her legs at the knee. She’s wearing hot pink lipstick today, along with jean shorts that show her ass, and peep toe pumps. Guess she didn’t learn a lesson the last time I stomped her toes with my boots. “Sorry, Bernie, but I couldn’t lie.” She gives me a sympathetic sort of look, but I ignore her.
Her obsession with me shouldn’t have to be my problem.
I’m starting to think she’s legitimately crazy which almost makes me feel sorry for her. Almost, but then I’m also dead certain that she has no soul.
“And me and Ms. Keating only know that he pistol-whipped her in the face and sent her to the hospital. If you’re trying to use Kali against me, you’ve made a mistake.” I look from Sara to Constantine and sigh. “What you have done is ensure that Stacy Langford and her girls are going to jump Kali after school. Nobody likes a snitch.”
“I’m not snitching,” Kali scoffs, like that didn’t even occur to her. “The detective”—she gestures at Constantine, gold bracelets jangling—“asked what happened on Friday, and I told the truth the way I know it to be. I’m sure you did the same.”
“Please don’t be surprised when you find her lying in a ditch tomorrow morning,” I say, shoving up and out of the chair. Once in the hallway, I find Oscar waiting again. He seems to like hovering around to see if I’ll fuck up.
“What?” I ask, but he just shakes his head slightly.
“Not everything is about you, Bernadette; I’m here to monitor Kali.” Oscar leans back against the rusted lockers and crosses his arms over his suit jacket, button-down, and tie. He watches me carefully as I approach but keep my distance at the same time. “Anything to report?”
“Officer Young’s using her to pick at us. She basically admitted that Kali was a snitch, to see if we’d move on her.” Oscar just smiles at my explanation, his lips a razor-sharp slash across the bottom of his wicked face. He knows as well as I do that we won’t have to do anything to see that Kali gets a spanking from the students of Prescott.
“Fantastic. I’d hate it if something were to happen to the good officer, after all the hard work she’s putting into this case.” Oscar keeps his gray eyes focused on Ms. Keating’s door as he lounges in the shadows, his feet encased in a pair of those pretty loafers with the metal skulls on the tops.
“You can’t hurt her, you know,” I tell him, and he shifts his unyielding attention over to me. “Sara Young. She hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“And you are not the morality police,” Oscar explains as my nostrils flare with anger. Motherfucker. “When it comes to your list, we are on your schedule and your whim. Otherwise, you are the same as any of us: just one sixth of a slice of Havoc.”
“You’re so fucking rude, you know that?” I snap back at him, knowing this isn’t the time or place for us to have a conversation about anything personal. Oh well. “Why did you run out