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"Sylvia. She hacked in." Hazel stared at the floorboards, ashamed. "After they arrested you that first time, she showed me the file. That was why I was scared of you."
"Oh G.o.d." He closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat. "Sylvia has been messing with you, Haze. With us."
She shook her head. "I don't understand."
"Show it to me," Matty insisted.
Together Hazel and Matty tiptoed upstairs to Hazel's room.
She logged on to her e-mail, found the message from Sylvia, and clicked on the link.
A message flashed on the screen: access denied.
"Sylvia hacked in and made up a fake file," Matty insisted.
"But why?" Hazel wondered aloud.
In her head, she knew the answer. To have control over me.
But was there more? Megan had mentioned that the PLDs were separated during the time of Breona's murder-and that Sylvia was late in meeting them afterward.
Was Sylvia trying to put suspicion on someone else after Breona's death?
Tell him, she urged herself. Tell him all of it.
"It's all right, Haze. I'm here now." He kissed her again. And again. "It's all right."
But it wasn't all right. Everything was a mess.
After Matty left, Hazel knocked on her parents' door.
The sound on the TV went down, and she poked her head into their bedroom.
"I'm going over to Sylvia's," she said. "I put the number on the breakfast bar."
"It's ten o'clock. Isn't that kind of late?" her father asked.
Hazel shook her head. "I'll be back by midnight. I promise."
"Call us when you get there. Be careful. Lock your doors," her mom ordered her.
"I will," she told them both.
And I won't come back without my questions answered.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
Hazel clutched the steering wheel until her knuckles were white. She sped toward Sylvia's. Sylvia couldn't get away with this.
Hazel pulled up to the curb and stared at Sylvia's house. It was a huge Tudor mansion with a high wall and rosebushes lining the facade.
Before Hazel could pull open the driver's-side door, she heard music blaring from Sylvia's house. There was a glut of cars parked along the sidewalk. Hazel strode up the stairs and through the front door with determination.
There was a crowd blocking the foyer, and it carried through to the living room. Hazel didn't say a word to anyone. She stormed through the kitchen and out to the backyard.
Stephan Nylund had a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He was babbling to a group gathered around him.
"Yo, someone saw Brandon in LA," he slurred. "He's just hanging out there. Living like a rock star. Getting all kinds of booty."
Hazel pushed past and glared at him with disgust.
Farther on, she saw Megan and Ellen sitting together. Ellen was cradling a drink and swaying unsteadily.
Hazel marched up to them.
"Haze," Ellen slurred. Her eyes were glazed.
Megan regarded Hazel cautiously. "Where have you been?"
"Megan, we have a problem," Hazel began.
"What is it?"
"It's Sylvia. I found out something tonight. Something really important. I think she faked a file after Breona's murder to-" Hazel stopped short. Sylvia voice blared from inside the house.
"This is not funny! Who did this? Who did it?"
Hazel strode back into the house, following the sound.
The large room connected to the parlor was cast in darkness. A handful of kids were grouped around the television set; on the screen was a bird's-eye view of trees shimmering in a night wind, and children were singing an eerie chorus as an orchestra played a frightening counterpoint.
Sylvia's silhouette blacked out the images as she punched the player open and yanked out the DVD.
"Hey, that was Diabolique!" a guy curled on the couch pointed out.
"I know what it is!" she yelled. "I want to know who put it in there!"
No one spoke.
Sylvia charged out of the room with the DVD in her hand.
"What the h.e.l.l is her problem?" someone muttered.
"All she does is talk about that d.a.m.n movie," another one said.
Carolyn came up behind Hazel; she gestured for her to follow. They walked out the back door together, through the noise and laughter. Carolyn drew Hazel aside and said, "Sylvia is seriously losing it."
"I know," Hazel said. "And I think I know why. It's guilt. She faked school files about a restraining order out on Matty."
Carolyn smirked. "I'm not surprised. She's a total hacker, you know."
"She is?"
"Didn't you know? She can hack anything."
Hazel's mind whirled. The text messages from an unknown address, the e-mails from the same address. The altered voice on the phone. Breona, who she hated, dead.
Brandon, who scorned her in favor of Ellen, also dead.
She grabbed Carolyn's arm. "Can we talk?"
Carolyn nodded. "Sure."
"Good. Come with me. And don't tell Sylvia a thing."
They gathered in one of the guest bedrooms in Sylvia's immense mansion. Ellen was nervously twisting a lock of hair around her fingers and rubbing her eyes.
"I can't believe she's doing this," Ellen said hysterically. "I can't believe there's a party going on after everything that's happened. How can she be so cold?" she demanded, tears flowing from her eyes. Megan and Carolyn put their arms around her, trying to hush her.
"That's why I wanted to talk to you guys," Hazel said. "We're not going to let her get away with this."
Ellen wiped her tears away and looked up at Hazel. "What do you mean?"
Hazel knew it was time. The others might not like what she had to say, but they had to get to the bottom of all of this. She couldn't stand another moment of guilt-another second of uncertainty.
She took a deep breath.
"I need you all to think back to the days after Breona's murder. Remember what you said to me in the cafeteria? About the night of homecoming? The night that Breona died? Megan said Sylvia was missing for a while that night."
"I did," Megan answered slowly. "So?"
"So Matty's been let go by the police," Hazel explained. "He's cleared of the murder. It couldn't be him, because he was with me when Breona died. That means someone else killed her."
"Wait-Sylvia was MIA for a few minutes and you automatically think she did it?" Carolyn argued.
"No, there's more. Right after the murder, when the police were asking questions, Sylvia showed me a file from Matty's permanent record. It said he had violent tendencies-and it was completely fake."
"So you think Sylvia faked it," Ellen filled in.
Hazel nodded. "She saw Matty's blowup on the field, and it gave her an idea-a chance to divert suspicion...from herself."
The others were silent.
"She was the only person in school with a real reason to want Breona dead," Hazel told them. "Sylvia and Breona may have had bad blood for years, but when Breona tried to steal Josh over the summer-"
"Sylvia lost control of her boyfriend for a few months, and she couldn't stand it," Megan chimed in quietly.
Hazel nodded. "She wants to control everyone around her. She needs it. You all know that. She tried to control us too. She couldn't stand the thought that Breona broke her little spell. And that's why she killed her."
"Wait," Carolyn interrupted. "Even if that's true, why would she arrange for Brandon to be there the night of our prank?"
"Because he wanted me instead of her," Ellen said in a low voice. "She couldn't stand the thought of Brandon choosing to be with the lamest PLD over her-the queen bee."
Carolyn and Megan shared a look of surprise. Ellen kept her head down, studying her ma.s.sacred nails.
"Ellen, you knew that they used to fool around?" Megan said incredulously. Ellen looked up at Hazel and gave a small, sad nod.
The girls were silent for a while. Finally Hazel said quietly, "We need to go to the police."
"What?" Carolyn countered. "No, we can't!"
"We have to," Hazel argued. "Think of Brandon's parents."
"Think of yours," Megan replied. "Think of all our parents. When they hear that we killed someone-"
"But we didn't kill someone," Ellen pointed out. "Sylvia is responsible for all of this. If we tell the police about it, she'll be the one to go to jail. She'll be the one they blame."
"Besides, do you want to carry this secret around for the rest of your life?" Hazel asked.
Carolyn shook her head. So did Megan They knew they couldn't get away with it. Not forever.
"Okay," Megan finally agreed. Carolyn nodded. "We'll go."
Hazel didn't sleep at all that night. They had decided to meet early-before school, by the big rock behind the media center where the drama clique hung out. They'd go in and talk to Mr. Clancy and Detective Fullerton as a group.
Hazel rose from her bed more times than she could count-to go to the bathroom, to splash water on her face, and to wander down the hall to stand in front of her parents' room, her hand poised to knock.
She didn't knock, but she looked in on her brother. His room smelled like rotten food. Game cartridges and DVDs were strewn all over the floor. She saw him in his bed, wrapped up in his covers, snoring.
She almost woke him but decided not to.
The hours dragged by; she was swaying on her feet. Sheer adrenaline was keeping her awake. She tried to distract herself by deciding what to wear.
By six she was ready to go. She paced her room, exhausted and hungry. Her family was stirring; her dad usually got up first, to make coffee. She heard him pad down the hall. She stayed in her room because if she didn't, she would probably tell him what was going on. She had told a lot of lies already. She would just rather not tell them all over again.
Then it was six-thirty, and then it was seven. Time to leave.
Hazel grabbed her keys, took a breath, and left the sanctuary of her room. She studied it for a moment-the purple bedspread with blue and green flowers, the matching curtains, the poster of Jude Law.
Will I ever see my room again?