Her Dangerous Revenge

CHAPTER 6

Hateful, glowering bodies.

"Look on the bright side." Vincent leaned against the locker beside

his, absolutely thrilled with the attention Cooper was receiving. "At

least you're not a bloodthirsty killer." A dramatic pause. "Or are

you?"

Cooper grabbed his camera and threw the strap around his neck.

He slammed his locker shut and glared up at Vincent. "Not

helping."

Vincent, unperturbed by the news that his best friend could be a

murderer, grinned down at him. "You should just tell everyone you

were too busy getting busy with Rachel Smith. Rock solid alibi. No

pun intended."

Cooper's cheeks erupted with color. He fumbled for words, aghast.

"You—I—you're unbelievable! Nothing happened."

He scanned the hall and almost immediately regretted it. A dozen

eyes pinned him in place. Most shone with resentment.

"You should ask her to the winter gala. You're like, her knight in

shining armor." Vincent pretended not to notice the swirling cloud

of hate converging around them. "Girls love that."

"I've said it once. I'll say it again." Cooper turned and hurried down

the hall, sticking close to the lockers. Vincent followed in his

footsteps. "You're unbelievable. Her cousin was just murdered ."

"Totally not your fault." Vincent maneuvered in front of Cooper in

one long stride. He slammed his arm against the nearest locker,

bringing them both to a halt. "Seriously, Coop. Stop acting like you have something to apologize for. Maybe then people will stop

expecting an apology."

Cooper stared at his friend, flabbergasted. He wanted to argue. But when Vincent dropped a nugget of wisdom like that—well. It made

any argument moot.

"It'll get better," Vincent promised gently, and then tapped the spine

of his textbook against Cooper's shoulder. "Gotta run. Coach Pratt

will flay me alive if I'm late to economics again."

It'll get better.

Cooper held that conviction close to his heart. He headed to his

next class with a modicum of confidence, repeating the mantra in

his head. Willing it to be true.

"You're a dead man, Daniels."

It'll definitely get worse.

He spun around, heart in his throat, and held the camera to his

chest like some sort of shield. From across the hall, gathered in

front of the junior lockers, stood a group of football jocks that

Cooper knew well. He'd picked Vincent up from practice enough

times to know when they were pushing his buttons.

And when they weren't.

Jacob Stein stood at the head of the group, his athletic bag slung

casually over one shoulder. He hadn't dressed in black, unlike the

vast majority of the rest of the school. He hadn't even tried. His

grey sweats and letterman jacket screamed I care about football

and football only.

Cooper couldn't help but notice Ryan Kane among the group. He

felt a flicker of recognition when their eyes met—and an

unexpected surge of resentment.

I saw you, Cooper wanted to say. I saw you at the police station.

Why were you there?

Did anyone else know where Ryan had been that night? Cooper

couldn't be sure. Maybe he was misreading the situation. Maybe

Ryan had been taken in for questioning for reasons other than the corpse of his classmate.

Cooper doubted that. But he kept his mouth shut, unwilling to cast

doubt on Ryan's character. Not when he didn't know the whole

story.

He broke eye contact and hurried away, ignoring the jeers that

followed. Before he'd so much as turned the corner, the final bell

rang. Cooper's heart sank.

Checking the time on his watch, he weighed his options. He could

attend second period—with a tardy slip, no less— and sit next to a

girl he was almost sure had committed murder two nights prior...

Or he could get some answers.

His mind made, Cooper wound his way to the center of the school,

bypassing the biology classroom without a backward glance. He

kept his head down as he passed a group of rowdy seniors. One of

the girls scoffed.

He ignored it and slipped inside the library, holding his breath. He

lifted his eyes and scanned the front desk, searching for the

familiar face of the petite librarian.

She was nowhere in sight. Cooper let out the breath he'd been

holding and disappeared among the tall stacks of books, trying not

to inhale too deeply for fear that the fumes of the ancient library

would cause him to pass out.

The place had to be riddled with mold. It was the one room in the

school that hadn't received a facelift in the last ten years, a project

that the likes of the Smith family had helped fund 'for the

betterment of their children's education'. Of course, the fieldhouse, football field and gym had been the first amenities to reap the rewards of their cash. But that was a discussion for another day.

Without the eyes of prying classmates on his back, Cooper could finally relax. He eyed the nearby shelves, turning one way and then another. Encyclopedias.

He pulled out the polaroid and examined the four lines on the

vomit-ridden page. Grimacing, he used his phone to type in a quick

search for the first line.

After what felt like an eternity, the results popped up. He clicked

on the first link.

Grimm's Complete Fairy Tales.

Encouraged, Cooper began roaming the aisles, searching first by

genre and then, when he didn't find what he was looking for, by

author. And still he came up empty-handed.

Leave it to Greenwitch High's ramshackle library to let him down.

Undeterred, Cooper braced himself against one of the shelves and

pulled his phone back out. He scrolled until he found a promising

article on one fairytale in particular, The Queen Bee ; but his head

quickly shot up when the bell rang, piercing through the silence.

I'm dead if I miss third period, he thought, scooping his textbook off

the floor and booking it out of the library. He'd only just shouldered

his way out into the hall when he froze.

A pair of dark eyes stared at him from the other end of the hall.

Calla looked somber in a black long sleeve, blending in well with

the mourning crowd by her side. Cooper recognized Jessica

Sneider's long blonde hair and, hovering behind her like a shadow,

Stephanie Brighton. Easily the shortest girl in school, Stephanie

spoke quietly to one of the Richardson twins—Mike or Blake,

Cooper couldn't be sure.

Only Calla took notice of Cooper. She smirked at him. Her eyes

filled with amusement, as if they were sharing a hilarious joke.

A wave of fury swept over Cooper. Fury that even here, standing

amidst a crowd, she could belittle him. Could mock him with those

eyes that said, Yes, Cooper. I remember the cat too.

Before she could so much as blink, he raised his camera and took

a quick snapshot, capturing their silent exchange.

Yes, Calla. You remember the cat. I remember the cat. And one day,

the whole world will know about the cat...and Tracy Smith.

Her smirk vanished. She eyed the camera around his neck and

then, at the prompting of her friends, she turned. Her slim figure

disappeared around the corner, a flash of red in an otherwise

endless seat of black.

Cooper glanced down at his camera. Calla stared out at him, her

taunting smile frozen in place.

If ever there was a hell on earth, she would find it and rule.

"Coop."

He jumped and the camera fell from his grasp, bouncing against

his chest. Standing directly in front of him, Stephanie c****d one

perfectly sculpted eyebrow.

Another familiar face from the police station.

"Steph," he said weakly, already anticipating the question in her

eyes. "About the party—"

"Forget about it. Tracy's dead." She sounded unbelievably sad as

she handed him a pink sheet of paper. "I reworked the yearbook

committee's schedule. I figure, what with everything going

on...well. I ended up cutting a few pages. To make our lives

easier."

Cooper tried to smother the guilt bubbling in the pit of his

stomach. Stephanie could be ruthless when it came to running the committee—so much so that Cooper had almost forgotten how

kind she could be.

At least she acknowledged his existence.

"And, Coop..." Stephanie hesitated, running a finger through her

brown curls. "Could you...I mean, look. About that night, at the

station—"

"Don't worry about it," he said, the words almost automatic. "It's

not my business. We can keep it between us."

Truth be told, Cooper had no idea why she'd been at the station

that night. He only knew it had been his own rotten luck that landed

him there. And he really wasn't in any position to make wild

assumptions.

Stephanie gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you. Seriously." She

turned and then hesitated, looking back at him. "I don't think you

had anything to do with her death. If that counts for anything."

She was gone before he had the chance to muster a reply.