Vicious Little Darlings (24 page)

35

I
t's the night before my last, most dreaded final and I'm holed up in my carrel. Maddy is taking her sociology exam, so I'm here alone. I know I'm going to fail microeconomics, but I don't care anymore. It's trivial compared to what Maddy and I are planning to do. Besides, if all goes well, we'll both get straight As.

Feeling a tap on my shoulder, I look up to find Agnes standing behind me, ghostlike in her long ivory coat, cheeks rash-red from the cold. She looks strangely pretty, her hair tousled and free, her skin aglow. I feel a pang of nostalgia for the good ole days, when we were still friends. How different things are now. Tomorrow night Maddy and I are going to drown her.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, suddenly jittery.

“I have to talk to you.” There's an edge in her voice.

“I can't right now. I'm studying.”

“Here,” she says, handing me a manila envelope. “Maybe this will help.”

I accept the envelope but don't open it. “I don't have time for this, Agnes. I'm really stressed out and—”

“Open it. You won't be disappointed.”

She has nerve doing this to me the night before my final. I bet it's an invoice for the ten thousand dollars I supposedly owe her. I open the envelope and extract what appears to be a copy of my microeconomics final with the answers filled in.

My eyes widen. “Where'd you get this?”

“Does it matter?” She taps her nails against my carrel. “Come on, let's go.”

“Go where?”

She motions for me to follow her.

“My professor's going to know I cheated,” I whisper. “I got a D on the midterm.”

“So you got your act together in time for the final,” she says through gritted teeth. “That's not unheard of. How much is the final worth anyway?”

“Fifty percent.”

“So you'll get a B in the class. Believe me, your professor won't suspect a thing. And you're welcome, by the way.”

While gathering my books, I start to panic. Why is Agnes helping me? Should I even be cheating on my exam? I'm desperate, but cheating is unethical. And what if I get caught? Then again, murder is unethical and I'm still planning to do that, so why not cheat too while I'm at it?

We exit the library and step out onto a blanket of blue-white snow. All of campus has been transformed into Narnia.

“First snow,” Agnes says matter-of-factly, walking briskly toward her car. “Come on.”

Why
is
it so intensely beautiful tonight—the night before Maddy and I commit our heinous act? And why does Agnes look so radiant? I don't like all this beauty. It feels depraved.

When we get close to her car, I ask Agnes, “Are you going to tell me what's going on?”

“Get in,” she says, unlocking the doors.

Inside, Agnes cranks up the heat and then lights a cigarette, opening her window just a crack.

“Since when do you smoke?”

She shakes her head. “I don't, except when I'm in Europe.”

“Why only in Europe?”

“I don't know. It feels right there.”

“Well, currently we're in Massachusetts, so …”

“Stop talking, Sarah,” she grumbles, gripping the cigarette with her first and middle fingers. Her hand, I notice, is shaking.

She steers the car out of the parking lot and onto the main road toward town.

“Where are we going?”

“In a minute,” she says, agitatedly puffing away. She points to the bottle-shaped brown bag near my feet. “Hand me that, would you?”

I reach for it. “Wine?”

“Champagne.” She takes the bottle from me and slides it onto the backseat.

“What for?”

“Maddy wanted it.”

I feel a slight pain in the pit of my stomach. Maddy never told me she was going to get Agnes to buy the champagne. Probably because I never would have supported the idea. I would've told her how totally twisted it is to involve Agnes in her own murder. God, Maddy has nerve.

“Did she say why?” I ask.

“To celebrate the end of finals. Tomorrow night. I was hoping we could all celebrate together, but I know you'll be gone by then.”

“My flight's not till ten.”

“Yes, but you'll want to get to the airport early. Anyway, it's not going to be much of a party. I don't drink champagne, so Maddy will be drinking alone.”

I stiffen. “You don't drink champagne?”

“No,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “It gives me migraines. I never touch the stuff.”

“Never?”

“Never.” She looks at me.

My head spins. “Does Maddy know you don't drink champagne?”

“She should. She's only known me my whole life. Why?”

I shrug. “Just wondering.” Suddenly I remember Agnes telling me about her aversion to champagne early in the semester. She was feeding Hope the champagne truffles her mother had sent her, because her mother apparently forgot that champagne gave her migraines. Maddy was in the room with us. And she
has
known Agnes forever. How could she have overlooked this one very important quirk of Agnes's?

“Look,” Agnes says, startling me. “I'm sorry I haven't seen much of you lately. But schoolwork comes first.” She blows out a wisp of smoke.

I blink at her. Why is she pretending that there isn't a giant rift between us? When is she planning to kick me out? When I'm in California?

She tosses her cigarette out the window.

“Sarah,” Agnes continues, “I want you to know that I really did want you to come to Paris with us. But I thought it'd be best if you went home for winter break.” She turns to me. “That's why I bought you that ticket to California.”

“
What?
” I grab her arm. She instantly tenses. “I knew it! That's why the envelope was typed and there was no letter. I knew I wasn't being paranoid. God, Agnes, why would you do something like that?”

Shaking off my hand, she slips another cigarette into her mouth and lights it. “It was for your own good. I thought you and Maddy could use some … distance.”

Her jealousy truly knows no bounds. “You still think I'm trying to take her away from you?”

“No, it's not that,” she says. “I'm protecting you. Maybe you haven't noticed, but Maddy's been pretty manic lately. I think she's up to something and I'm concerned for your safety.”

Does Agnes suspect that Maddy and I are plotting something against her? Maybe Maddy alluded to it in her diary and Agnes read it?

Suddenly Agnes makes a sharp turn and pulls into the parking lot of the Wetherly Inn.

“What are we doing here?” I ask her.

Ignoring me, Agnes puts the car in park, then gets out while the engine's still running. I follow her out and watch as she, with one hand, hauls my suitcase out of the trunk and drops it at my feet. She takes a long drag on her cigarette and exhales.

My face heats up. “You're kicking me out?”

“No.” She closes the trunk.

“You can't treat people like this, Agnes. You think you can just get away with things because you're wealthy, but there are consequences.”

Agnes narrows her eyes. “What are you talking about?”

“I'll pay you back. For the food and the gas and the rent and whatever else. You don't have to do this.”

“I'm not asking you for money, Sarah. You don't owe me anything.” She sounds oddly sincere.

“Why? Because you feel bad that you got me fired?”

She looks perplexed. “I really don't know what you're talking about. Look, I got you a room here, just for tonight. Take this,” she says, handing me a key card and my plane ticket. “Room 404. Good luck with your final and have a safe flight. I packed all of your things so you needn't come back to the house. Have a good time with your grandmother. I'll call you.”

“That's it? You're not even going to tell me what's going on?”

“Trust me, Sarah, it's better this way. Give Maddy some space. Everything will be fine by next semester. I promise.”

Throwing up my hands, I say, “What did I do?”

“It's nothing like that.” She tosses her cigarette onto the snow and then gets back in the car. “I have to go. Maddy will be home soon.” With a quick wave of the hand, she says, “See you next year.”

Before I can say “Wait,” her car shoots out of the parking lot.

What do I do now? Agnes must have discovered something in Maddy's diary, because how else could she have figured things out? God, why does Maddy have to keep a fucking diary?

One thing's clear: I've got to read that damn thing before Maddy gets home. I glance at my watch: 9:32. I have twenty-eight minutes.

I drag my suitcase into the hotel lobby and leave it with the guy behind the counter. After all, Maddy and I may have to come back here tonight. Then I call a cab.

“Please hurry,” I say into the phone. “It's an emergency.”

36

S
ix minutes later, I arrive at the house. I pay the driver, wish him a good night, and sneak in through the back door.

The bottle of Dom Pérignon sits ominously on the counter. A faint glow emanates from the open basement door. I hear Agnes moving around down there, opening and closing drawers in a furious manner. What is she looking for?

Quietly, I start up the stairs, feeling my way to the top. When I get to Maddy's room, I flip on the lights, aghast to find the room in shambles. Clothes, books, and stuffed animals are strewn across the floor. Drawers are open and eviscerated, the bed stripped of its linens. Agnes must have been searching for Maddy's diary.

I peek into the top drawer of the bureau, where, strangely, the Hello Kitty diary sits untouched. So what was Agnes looking for? With a bobby pin I find lying on top of the chest, I pick the lock. My hands tremble as I turn to the first page:

September 1

Hate it here. Town is so boring and being around girls all the time totally sucks. It kinda makes me miss Sebastian, even though I don't miss giving him blow jobs.

My roommate is a weirdo. And she drools over Sebastian, just like every other girl. Too bad he only has eyes for me.

I don't know what I'd do without Hope. She's the only thing or person (?) I get along with. Why can't people be as nice as animals?

September 18

I HATE Sarah. Why won't the bitch move in with us? I wish she would just get into a car accident and die. I know she fucked Sebastian behind my back. That evil slut! She has no idea who she's messing with. Had a funny feeling the day Sebastian came to Wetherly to surprise me, but I didn't confront her. Didn't have to. My intuition is never wrong. And then the Gypsy went ahead and confirmed it. Plus she said I would die before my birthday. I knew my short lifeline meant something! I must do a human sacrifice. Of course the Gypsy urged me not to, saying that even if I succeeded in prolonging my life, I might be altered in some repulsive way. Said there were cases of people going blind, losing their limbs, and contracting yucky diseases that turned their lives into nightmares. But I don't care. It's worth the risk. And it's the only thing that's going to make me hate Sarah less. Plus, she has a long lifeline—exactly what I need.

Even though I know Agnes would do anything for me, murder is a lot to ask. She wouldn't murder someone unless it was out of jealousy, so I've got to make her jealous of Sarah. But first, I have to get Sarah to move in with us …

October 1

Brilliant
moi
got Agnes to convince Sarah to move in, and now everything's falling into place. It's too bad because I kind of like Sarah. She doesn't worship me the way Agnes does, but I know she thinks I'm beautiful. I can tell by the way she looks at me. I bet she secretly wishes she could be me. Well, she can't.

Finally told Agnes about my tea-leaf reading, but just about the circle, the number twenty-one, and the betrayal. She blew me off. Told me not to pay attention to “psychic nonsense.” Fucking Agnes. If I didn't need her, I wouldn't even be her friend.

October 11

Broke up with Sebastian yesterday. He came to the house and I saw the way Sarah was looking at him, so longingly. Pathetic. He only wants me, doesn't she know that? She's sooo stupid. I was happy he ignored her, but I'm still disgusted with him for fucking her. Why her of all people? What does she have that I don't?

Finding Hope dead and rotting in the backyard was horrifying. At first I was so upset I couldn't stop crying. Hope was my one true friend. I used to tell her everything. Now I only have you, Diary. Anyway, once I realized I might die next, I stopped crying. I only have two more months to live unless I do something about it.

October 20

Trying to get tight with Sarah, but it's not working. I think she's still pissed about her eyebrows. Like who gives a shit about eyebrows? Guess the iPhone wasn't enough. She's been distracted lately. Makes me think she's fucking someone. Like she actually believes she can have a boyfriend after she ruined my relationship? Hasn't the bitch heard of karma?

November 28

Been so busy, no time to write. But VERY proud of myself. Successfully ruined Sarah's relationship with Reed and spent Thanksgiving in town alone with Sarah. Nearly drove Agnes insane.

December 2

Plan backfired. Got Agnes jealous but it's not working the way I wanted it to. She turned needy and angry. Tried to calm her down with a romantic night at the Wetherly Inn. Got all dressed up and looked sexy and cute just for her. Then I told her Part 2 of what the Gypsy said—that murder was the only way to reverse my fate and that if we made a human sacrifice, I would get the remaining years of the person we sacrificed. Tried to convince her to help me get rid of Sarah. Even told her about Sarah fucking Sebastian behind my back. But Agnes went ballistic. Accused me of being mentally unstable! Accused me of using her to carry out my own plans and making her do the dirty work and not really loving her. Not the reaction I was expecting. Then she came right out and asked me if I loved her. I lied to her face and she knew it too. She said it didn't matter, that she would continue loving me anyway, that it would always be unconditional with her. But she would NOT help me get rid of Sarah. I wasn't about to give up, so I ran her a bath to calm her down, but she wouldn't get in the tub. She accused ME of being in love with Sarah! Told her that was the stupidest thing I'd ever heard and poured her a glass of champagne, but she wouldn't drink it, so I took the bottle and chugged it down myself. Then I licked the head of the bottle in a supersexy way and she just stared at me. I pulled her down onto the bed with me and started kissing her. She went along with it for a while, but when I put my hand on her boob, she pushed me away. “Come on. It'll be fun,” I said. “I know you want to. I know you've been fantasizing about it.” She stood up and said, “I really haven't, M. I'm not interested in a sexual relationship. With you or anyone else.” Bitch. Who the hell does Agnes think she is? She's turning ME down? Nobody turns me down. I will make her pay for this. I hate her so much I could kill her. I hate her so much I WILL kill her.

December 11

Switching up the plan. Going to get Sarah to help me kill Agnes instead. Doesn't matter who I murder, as long as they have a long lifeline. And Agnes does. Plus, now I hate Agnes more than Sarah, more than anyone in the world. That bitch is going to be sorry she rejected me.

Cast an Agree Spell on Sarah. The one I cast on Agnes before Thanksgiving didn't work. But it's working on Sarah. Probably because she's weaker-willed than Agnes. Decided not to tell Sarah about the human sacrifice. Just going to tell her Agnes did something horrible to me. Revenge sounds a lot less evil.

Can't wait for my new life to begin!

I wipe my brow, slick with nervous sweat. There are no more entries. Still, I flip through every blank page of the diary. And then I find something hidden in the pocket of the back cover. A photograph of me with my Louis Vuitton purse. Maddy took this picture on our way to Harvard. But why is it in her diary? I flip over the photo. Taped to the back is a lock of long, black hair.
My hair.
She must have picked it up off the floor at Sally Jo's House of Beauty. Sick! Who does that?

Below my hair, in tiny handwriting, are the words:
My Sarah
. And below that, in even smaller writing, is a phone number: 413-555-9728. I take my cell out of my jacket pocket and dial the number. After two rings, a man picks up. Immediately I recognize the whiny, irritated voice of Dr. Shelby and hang up. I shudder. So Maddy's the one who got me fired. She actually told Dr. Shelby I had herpes and then blamed it on Agnes. And she lied to me about the rape.
Maniac!

I close the diary and sit down on the bed. My blood is jumping. I can't believe Maddy wrote down all her plans, so casually, so stupidly. She truly believes she's above the law. She's truly psychotic! What should I do now?
Think, Sarah, think.
But crazy people are impossible to figure out. I'd have to be insane like Maddy in order to understand her. The Gypsy, the lies, the human sacrifice, the Agree Spell. What kind of monster is she? What kind of monster am I? For believing her, for agreeing to help her. Even Agnes knew where to draw the line. But not me.

Her hold over me was overpowering, and I know it wasn't just the spell. Somehow she was able to control me like a puppet and make me believe all her outrageous lies. God, if only I'd read her diary earlier.

Now what? I want to run out of the house and never come back. But if I do that, will I ever be able to escape the horror of what I've done? I traded in my moral code for Maddy's wretched friendship. I gave in to her charm, her beauty, her audacity, and then watched as the lines between right and wrong, normal and insane, love and hate, all blurred into nothingness. And Agnes still isn't safe. Maddy might try something even without my help. I glance at the Cinderella wall clock: 9:55. I snatch the diary, bolt out of the room, and call to Agnes while running down the stairs.

The basement is a wreck: the dolls yanked off the shelves and strewn across the floor. Agnes, crouching amid a sea of Barbies, rummages through a hatbox. She looks up at me, and her surprise quickly turns to irritation. “I told you not to come back here,” she says.

Without bothering to explain, I grab her by the wrist and drag her toward the stairwell.

“What are you doing?” She yanks back her hand.

I wave the diary in front of her. “Have you read this?”

“Maddy's diary? You actually read it?”

“Oh, yeah. And you would too if you knew what she was up to.”

“No, that's where we're different, Sarah.
I
would never betray Maddy's trust,” she says, jabbing her index finger into my forearm.

“We need to get out of here.”

Agnes smooths her ivory silk blouse. “I'm not going anywhere.”

“You're in serious danger, Agnes.” I point toward the door. “Let's go to the inn. I'll explain everything there.”

“Maddy will be home any minute.”

“That's why we have to hurry. Trust me, you don't want to be around her right now.”

Agnes turns away and, in a condescending tone, says, “She's my best friend, Sarah.”

“Well, your best friend wants to offer you up as a human sacrifice!”

Our eyes lock. The room goes still. Then Agnes lets out a short laugh. “You're delusional. Maddy needs me. I'm her family. You're the one who betrayed her with Sebastian.”

I open the diary and begin reading aloud, “
Who the hell does Agnes think she is? She's turning ME down? Nobody turns me down. I will make her pay for this. I hate her so much I could kill her. I hate her so much I WILL kill her.
”

Agnes pales slightly.

“You committed the ultimate sin—you rejected her.” When Agnes doesn't respond, I say, “Let's go.”

“I can't,” she says, biting her lip. “Maddy took my gun.”

Fuck.
Shooting Agnes was never part of the plan.

“I don't know how long she's had it. I looked in my drawer today and it wasn't there. I searched my room, her room. God knows where she hid it—we have to find it before something terrible happens.”

“Is it loaded?”

Agnes nods.

I ignore my accelerating pulse. “We'll worry about that later. Let's just go.”

“She might hurt herself.”

“She's not going to hurt herself; she's going to hurt
you
.”

Suddenly the basement door slams shut, and Agnes and I freeze. A second later we hear the click of the lock.