Coldhearted (9781311888433) Page 7

  But no one was listening because no one cared.

  “What’s going on?” a high-pitched voice demanded.

  Edie turned to see the teacher, Mrs. Bellamy, walk into the room. She’d finally arrived, and she was darting her eyes between Rochelle and Edie.

  “Edwina tried to kill Rochelle,” Ravenna lied, again. She snatched up the scarf from Edie’s hands. “With this, Mrs. Bellamy,” she added, presenting it as evidence. She waved the scarf at the class. “They all saw it!” And then dramatically, she threw the scarf on the floor.

  Edie picked it up and held it protectively. Mrs. Bellamy approached Rochelle, scanning her worried face. Yes, Rochelle was upset. Edie could see the look in her eyes; she actually thought Edie had tried to kill her. Even though Rochelle was scared, Edie could see fury in her eyes as well. She’ll have her vengeance, I know it.

  “Let me see,” Mrs. Bellamy coaxed, gesturing at Rochelle’s neck.

  Rochelle tilted her head and winced. Mrs. Bellamy gasped. “It’s bruised!”

  “See?” Ravenna said, gesturing wildly at Edie. “Rochelle was attacked!”

  Mrs. Bellamy left Rochelle and approached Edie. “Edwina?”

  Edie was speechless. Clearly, the scarf had moved on its own and wrapped around Rochelle’s neck, trying to squeeze the life from her. Edie was absolutely sure that she hadn’t done it. And she didn’t believe the scarf was magical because it’d been Mason’s, after all.

  Someone had done it.

  Yet…who?

  ****

  Ravenna wailed when Mrs. Bellamy told her that she had to remain behind.

  After Mrs. Bellamy had gotten another teacher to watch over the class, she motioned for Edie and Rochelle to enter the hallway.

  They were going to the principal’s office.

  Walking single file, Edie was in the front, then Mrs. Bellamy, and finally Rochelle, trailing behind, as she played up her wounds.

  “Edwina attacked me,” she told every passerby.

  Edie kept walking, suffering the looks of students and teachers alike; all seemed to believe Rochelle, giving Edie a wary eye.

  When Principal Jennings saw Edie, she beamed, unaware of the crime Edie had apparently committed. She frowned when she saw Rochelle but said nothing. Mrs. Bellamy shut the principal’s office door, and then remained standing between Edie and Rochelle.

  Principal Jennings had been sitting, but now she stood, concerned. “What happened?” she asked, looking at Rochelle.

  “Edwina…tried…to…kill…me,” Rochelle said between fake sobs.

  Principal Jennings gave her a disbelieving look. “No, Rochelle, Edie did not try to kill you. What really happened?”

  “There’s bruising on her neck,” Mrs. Bellamy informed, but didn’t seem to be accusing Edie of murder just yet.

  “She tried to strangle me with that scarf!” Rochelle accused.

  Edie was still holding Mason’s scarf in her hands; the evidence in plain sight. She had it bunched up into a ball.

  “Edie?” Principal Jennings prompted.

  Edie shook her head and found her voice. “I didn’t do anything. Rochelle…Rochelle tried to take the scarf from me. She pulled, I pulled back.” Edie shrugged. “Then…well…I don’t know how it happened, but the scarf was around Rochelle’s neck, and it was…” She trailed off, not wanting to sound crazy.

  “It was what?” Principal Jennings prodded.

  Edie bit her lip, and then replied, “It was…strangling her.”

  Principal Jennings looked away, processing, and then she turned back toward Edie. “A scarf, on its own, tried to strangle Rochelle?”

  “No, she did!” Rochelle hissed. She rushed toward Principal Jennings’s desk. “Look!” She tilted her head for the principal to see the bruises on her neck.

  Edie had to admit it—they looked bad—and in a familiar pattern. Like bruising made by someone’s hand. Edie could discern four fingers and a thumb.

  Principal Jennings noticed it too. She put a hand over her mouth and shook her head, shocked. She lowered her hand to speak. “I’m sorry this has happened to you Rochelle. It’s…” She trailed off, confused, worried, and then turned toward Edie. “Edie, what happened?” She gave Edie a small smile. “I know you didn’t do it, but—”

  “Yes, she did!” Rochelle yelled at the top of her lungs, despite her injuries. “Edwina St. John tried to kill me!” She gestured wildly at her own neck. “There’s your proof! I want her arrested! I want her thrown out of town! I want her out of my life!”

  Mrs. Bellamy had been keeping silent, listening, all throughout the hearing. Now she spoke up. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t see. Ravenna Gallo, Rochelle’s friend, said it was Edie, but….” Mrs. Bellamy shook her head and gave Edie a sympathetic look. “I don’t think you did it either, Edie.”

  Rochelle let out a shriek. “Why is everyone taking her side?! You all think she’s some sort of…angel but she’s not! She’s fooled everyone! She’s fooled Mason! I hate her! I hate her! I. Hate. Her!”

  Rochelle let out another shriek, but then she was cut off, as her hands flew to her throat, holding tight. She was choking herself. Mrs. Bellamy and Principal Jennings rushed and managed to tear her hands away, holding them at her sides. Rochelle was struggling against their hold, spitting curses at Edie. Edie stood away, not wanting to get hit by either her hands or her saliva, which was assuredly acidic.

  Suddenly, the door flew open.

  “Russ—Mr. B,” Edie quickly corrected herself.

  Russell entered, shut the door, and then remained standing near it. Edie could tell in his dark, gray eyes that he wanted to be near her instead.

  “What’s going on?” he asked anyone in the room who would answer.

  Rochelle fell limp. The principal and the teacher let her go but stayed close just in case. “Mr. B,” she cooed. “Look what Edwina did to me.” She gestured at her neck, the bruises more pronounced since she’d been trying to strangle herself.

  Russell shook his head. “No, Edie wouldn’t do that. That’s impossible.” He finally came to stand next to Edie and gently laid an arm around her shoulders. “Are you all right, Edie?”

  Rochelle growled. “You?!” she accused Russell. “You too?!” Her eyes were wide and suspicious, darting back and forth between Edie and Russell.

  Russell let Edie go and approached Principal Jennings. “What happened?”

  Rochelle spoke up instead. “Edie,” she said with malice, “tried to strangle me with that scarf!”

  Russell’s forearms were tense, veins popping, and his hands were clenched in agitation. “When I came in, you were being forcibly restrained, as if you were trying to hurt yourself. Fess up Rochelle. You did it the first time too.” His arms and hands relaxed. “You did that to yourself”—he made an accusatory gesture at her bruised neck—“to get Edie into trouble.”

  Rochelle was speechless, stunned.

  “We know your track record,” Principal Jennings spoke up next. “What you accused Mr. Ballantine of earlier this year.”

  Rochelle found her voice. “I lied then, but I’m not lying now!” She stamped her foot against the floor. “I didn’t try to kill myself! It was her!” She pointed an accusing finger at Edie.

  Russell moved to stand protectively in front of Edie, thinking she was about to be attacked. To Principal Jennings, he said, “Edie’s been through so much. May she leave? I’ll be glad to escort her out.”

  “I bet you would,” Rochelle spat.

  Mrs. Bellamy laid a cautious hand on Rochelle’s shoulder. “Rochelle, tell the truth.”

  Yet Rochelle was silent, staring at Edie, then Russell with hateful eyes.

  Principal Jennings gave her approval for Russell and Edie to leave. Edie didn’t look back, not even when Rochelle called her a “bitch.” She released more obscenities that were muffled when the principal slammed her office door.

  Russell steered Edie by the elbow into the student lobby, where he guided he
r toward a sofa, and they sat, side by side. The scene looked mildly scandalous, until it became eye-popping, when he took her free hand in his; her other hand still held onto Mason’s tattered scarf.

  “Edie, are you okay?” he asked softly, massaging her skin with gentle thumb strokes.

  Edie didn’t answer him. Instead she pulled her hand away from Russell’s embrace and stuffed the scarf into her coat pocket. Feeling sick, she wrapped her arms around her stomach, rocking back and forth, as she held back the urge to vomit.

  “She deserved it,” Russell said in a deep voice, almost a growl.

  Edie stopped rocking and turned toward him. “What’d you say?”

  Russell shook his head, confused by Edie’s question. “I didn’t say anything.” He took the back of his hand and laid it gently against her forehead, but then quickly removed it, realizing he was playing doctor. “You don’t have a fever,” he confirmed.

  “Why would you think that?” she asked.

  “You don’t look well.” He appraised her shivering. “And you always seem so cold. I know Grimsby’s not the Caribbean, but…it’s not Antarctica.”

  “I’m fine,” she lied.

  “Edie—”

  He was cut off when the bell rang. The school day was over but not the whole day. Edie worried what other unexplained events and violent disturbances she’d encounter once she got home.

  She stood up to leave, and said to Russell, “I’d understand if you don’t want to come over tonight.”

  He stood up too and was forced to whisper, “Why do you say that?” as practically the whole school surrounded them, rushing out to leave.

  Edie shrugged. “Because...bad things happen around me.”

  He reached out in an effort to comfort Edie, but then remembered his place, and let his hand fall by his side. “I’m coming. You can’t push me away. Whatever’s happening, Edie, I’ll do everything I can to help you. Okay?”

  “Okay,” she agreed.

  ****

  Edie walked with her head down toward her car, and then stumbled when she collided into someone. Strong arms wrapped around her, keeping her from falling. She looked up to find Mason, wearing a frown.

  “What’s wrong, Edie?”

  Edie’s shoulders slumped and Mason let her go. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard yet.”

  “Heard what?”

  She retrieved his tattered scarf and told him what’d happened.

  Mason scratched at the beard forming along his jaw. “So…the scarf just…wrapped itself around Rochelle’s neck and tried to strangle her?” he said in a tone of disbelief.

  She ignored his closed-mindedness and spoke the truth—or the truth as she believed it. “Well, it succeeded somewhat. I mean, she’s all right, but Mason…there’s bruising on her neck. It looks like a handprint.” She shook her head. “A scarf didn’t strangle her. A person did.” She let out a humorless chuckle. “Now that sounds crazy, I know,” she conceded somewhat, “but I didn’t do it. Even though Rochelle tried to strangle herself inside the principal’s office, she didn’t do it the first time.”

  “Maybe she did.”

  “Huh?”

  “Try to remember, Edie. Did the scarf magically wrap around her neck?” He gave her a look, and then shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. “No, it didn’t. Rochelle’s an actress. She likes to make scenes, cause trouble. I have no doubt she made it look like the scarf was strangling her, when all the while, she was doing it. That’s how she got those bruises. It was her hand.”

  Mason was making sense, considering what Rochelle had tried to pull inside the principal’s office. Yet…Edie wasn’t totally convinced.

  “But Mason, Ravenna and I both struggled to remove the scarf from her.” Edie held up the ruins of the garment. “Look.”

  He took it from her hand, appraising it.

  “Sorry, by the way,” she said. “I didn’t mean for that to happen.”

  He gave Edie a hard stare. “It’s not your fault. It’s Rochelle’s.” He cursed. “Why is she so crazy?” He chuckled without humor as she’d done earlier. “No, I was the crazy one for dating her for so long.” He bunched up the scarf even more and threw it over Edie’s head, where it landed directly into the trash can, a sizable distance away.

  “Good shot,” she praised.

  He shrugged. “I play basketball.”

  “For the school?”

  “Used to. I quit because of Rochelle. She’s a cheerleader. I couldn’t stand looking at her and she threw off my game.”

  “I can’t imagine her cheering for anything,” Edie said dryly. “Except for herself.”

  “She does it to be near the guys,” he said with a shake of his head. “She has a thing for jocks. You remember Quinn from our English class?” After Edie had nodded, he continued, “Quinn McDermott is who she cheated on me with. After he was done with her, he dumped her. She was devastated for about two seconds until she latched onto another guy.”

  “Who’s she seeing now?”

  He shrugged, and replied, “No one, as far as I know. The guys here want nothing to do with her. Not worth it, you know?”

  Edie nodded. “But she’s still hung up on you. She wanted my scarf because it was yours.”

  He shook his head again. “She doesn’t want me. Not in a relationship, anyway. She just can’t stand to see me with another girl.” Briefly his eyes went wide. “I mean, not that I’m with you, like that…it’s just…she’s got it inside her head that she owns me, and whenever she decides she’s bored, she’ll just snap her fingers, and I’ll come crawling back.” He sighed. “I can’t wait until graduation. Then, I’ll never have to see her again.”

  “What if she stays?”

  “I hope not. She always talks about moving to New York. That’s still too close. You know that Mars trip people are signing up for?”

  Edie nodded.

  “I wish they could go now. I’d personally escort Rochelle inside the spaceship and wave, as she blasted off into space.” He looked up at the sky and waved for effect, grinning.

  Edie giggled. “I’ll join you.”

  He relaxed his grin into a small smile. “So…are you going straight home? Because I was thinking we could do something.”

  Uh-oh. Russell.

  Edie tried not to panic. “Um…rain check?” she said, keeping her voice deceptively smooth. “It’s just that it’s been such an overwhelming day and I’m still settling in. I’m a bit tired.”

  It wasn’t a total lie. She was tired.

  “No problem.” Mason reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind Edie’s ear. “I love your hair.” His fingers trailed along her cheek, and then he leaned in, kissing her where he’d touched her. Her face flushed. “I’ll see you tomorrow in English.”

  “Unless I get lost again and you have to rescue me.”

  “It would be my pleasure, Miss St. John, but you may have to rescue me again like you did this morning.”

  Edie smiled. “It would be my pleasure, Mr. Fenwick.”

  He chuckled. “I love your accent. My little southern belle,” he cooed affectionately.

  To Edie’s surprise, he didn’t try to take it back; his confidence with her was growing more and more with each passing second. Edie blushed and bit her lip, not knowing what to say. Instead she gave him a hug and tilted her head up, staring into his eyes. It felt wonderful until Mason grimaced in disgust and pushed her away.

  “What’d I do?” she asked, worried that he’d lost all affection for her.

  Mason shook his head. “I’m sorry, Edie. I thought for a moment you were…Rochelle.”

  Edie screwed up her face in disgust. “What?!”

  “I’m sorry but I don’t know what happened. One second, I was looking at you, Edie, and then…your face changed…and you were Rochelle. I freaked and pushed you away. I’m sorry.” He rubbed at his closed eyes, then opened them, and said, “Maybe I’m just tired or something.”

  “It’
s okay,” she said. “This day has just been crazy, that’s all. I’m sure tomorrow will be better.”

  She hoped.

  Mason smiled. “Let’s try this again.” He opened his arms and she embraced him. They stood in the parking lot, holding onto each other, until Mason was the first to pull away. “That’s better,” he said, smiling down at Edie.

  “You’re like an oven,” Edie said, and then added with less enthusiasm, “and I’m like an icebox.”

  “Then we complement each other,” he said, looking on the bright side. “Together, we’re neither too cold nor too hot. If you met a cold guy, you’d be frozen solid. If I met a hot girl, I’d melt.”

  Edie smiled. “That’s silly logic. But sweet. Thank you.”

  Mason smiled, exposing his dimples. “You know, Edie, one day, I’m actually going to do something worthy of your thanks.”

  Chapter 9

  When Edie entered her house, she heard a growl, followed by a hissing.

  She went into the kitchen and discovered that the monster she’d been hearing was the coffee machine. Uncle Landon was brewing another pot. Coffee, mixed with the smell of cigarette smoke, drifted from his study down the hall. The door was closed, but she could still hear the constant click-clack of the keyboard under his fingers, along with the occasional curses, grunts, and exclamations of joy.

  She waited in the kitchen to see if he’d make an appearance, but he didn’t. Edie wasn’t expecting a fascinating conversation, or even a “Hey, how was your day?” She just wanted to let him know that Russell was coming over. Edie’s uncle was a private person.

  She valued her privacy too, but she felt that she didn’t have it anymore. Someone was watching her, listening in on her, and generally screwing up her life. And it rattled her nerves.

  She yelped when she felt something vibrating inside her pocket, and then she realized it was her cell phone and mentally cursed herself for acting like an idiot.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “Hey, it’s Russell. I’m at the gates. Can you let me in?”