Cassie:
The bell rang and I was on ten happy birthday cards and counting. All my friends decorated my locker with confetti and orange picture frames with all our faces. For a second I forgot to grab my binders for class. I looked at my chapped, glossy lips through my locker mirror. I fixed my hair so the one curly strand that usually stuck out was hidden behind the rest of the layers of my hair.
A haze showed up in my mirror; I saw a faded black hoodie, and I freaked out, screaming just above a whisper, until I turned around and saw it was Tyson. Laughing out of fear, I shouted, “Tyson, jeez what are you doing? You know that freaks me out. I’d expect that from Deron, but not you.”
“That’s why I did it,” he said, “It’s this new thing I started for my friend’s birthdays.”
“I see,” I replied, pulling my folders out of my locker through the fuzzy, pink wrapping paper. I dropped a couple papers, and Tyson reached down and grabbed them for me.
“Escort you to your first class?” he asked.
“Of course, but on the way, just curious, what sparked this new idea of yours to scare the crap out of people on their birthdays?”
“I hear it’s supposed to bring good luck. Brings more excitement. I know how much you hate going to school. I find it funny your birthday always lands on the first day.”
“I know right? Guess I’m just lucky like that.”
Tyson Donoghue was a few inches taller than me, just tall enough that I could see over his shoulder at his deep brown eyes and matching hair, his hair short, ending just about where his ears started. He was my friend from high school, specifically my tutor who made me feel less stupid in math class and who I just couldn’t stop talking to. He was the captain of the lacrosse team, a hidden gem in my book. He was the quieter smart type, less aggressive than Deron ever was, and it was why it was so nice to have a friend like him. Plus I never had to worry about failing another math exam without him.
I put my folders in my backpack and walked through the squeaky white halls, up the stairs, to room 441 all the way in the back of the school with Tyson. “Seriously though,” I asked Tyson, “Who put you up to the sneaking up behind me thing? It was Deron, wasn’t it?”
He gave a slight bow. “Sorry to Deron, but I’m going to have to take all the credit for this one. You have to admit, you didn’t expect it, did you?”
“No, but-“
“See.” Tyson ran his hands through his hair. He could keep up with me even with his slightly heavier backpack weighing him down as he forced his way down the halls. “So you feel like an adult yet?” he asked.
I took a breath. “Honestly, I feel like I feel like an adult to everyone but me. My mom is super serious about it. Amara is ready to go all out. But eighteen literally feels no more special than twelve and thirteen did. It’s like you’re all acting like I’m going to die tomorrow.”
“Everyone’s just excited. You’re the last one of our friends to become an adult. If it makes you feel any better, when I turned eighteen, my family took me out to dinner and my mom stood up on the table, my grandma on her chair, and they sang me happy birthday until everyone else in the restaurant did the same. It was so embarrassing, I didn’t talk to my mom for two days after that.”
I laughed. “I guess both our families react to it a bit weirdly.”
“My family reacts weirdly to everything,” said Tyson, “This morning I was in the shower and my mom thought I was missing for, I don’t know, the five or ten minutes I was in there, and she went crazy, throwing my bed upside-down, calling everyone.”
“Overprotective much?”
“Double overprotective if that’s a thing.”
“It’s totally a thing,” I agreed, “My mom is plenty guilty of it herself.”
“Well at least you’re an adult now. Maybe she’s different. Maybe she’ll start treating you like it.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing,” I said, “I feel like it’s reversed with my mom. I feel like when I was younger my mom was more carefree, but now that I’m an adult, she’s more cautious than she’s ever been.”
“Adulthood,” he joked, “What a struggle.”
I sighed. “You got that right.”
Tyson’s class was right next to mine. He had Calc and I had English. Once I walked into the dreadful Mrs. Fritzel’s room, Mason Galleyway and Maureen Princeton were waving me over. Mason and Maureen were a thing, as everyone called it here at Kingsfield High. The second thing, behind Deron and I. I knew Maureen because Amara introduced her to me a while back, and Mason came into the picture shortly after he moved here from California. Tan skin, blue eyes, the red hair that matched, it was no question he fit right into our friend group. He was in his leather coat and Maureen was in a simple purple dress that went down to her knees; even in the rain, she could pull it off. Her brown curls looked perfectly dry too. Knowing her, she probably lugged her hair dryer to school and groomed her hair in the girls’ bathroom before showing up to class.
Mason had a lot of freckles and dimples too that I could only ever notice close up. When I took my seat next to him and Maureen, I saw them again, although his freckles were a little faded in the dampness of the room. There was an air conditioner hooked onto the top of the ceiling, but it still always seemed hot in here. There were only our desks, a projector, and a bookcase, but we were missing a window which was probably the main reason why the room was humid all the time. It reminded me too much of a prison cell without the bars, except with Mrs. Fritzel around it still felt like there were bars holding me captive as she blamed every little thing on me and stood in front of the class indirectly droning on and on about how she wished she had a better love life.
The only thing I would ever admit to liking about Mrs. Fritzel’s class was that she spent forever in the copier room so everyone always had extra time to wake up and talk. Today it was taking her a little bit longer than usual to get to the classroom though.
Mason looked at me with his maze of green eyes. “Well if it isn’t the birthday girl?”
“Thanks,” I replied, “but I’ve really gotten enough happy birthdays for one day.”
Mason kicked his feet back and slouched back. There was an empty desk in front of him so he always used the seat as a foot rest. He was used to taking naps during this hour. “Sorry,” he replied, “Didn’t realize it was such a crime to wish their friend a happy birthday.”
“Sorry, Mason. No, it’s just-“
Mason’s eyes lit up. “There’s no just about it. You’re eighteen, and not to be selfish or anything. But this is actually good for me. No more sneaking around you. It means drinking, staying out late, finally at the end of our football games your mom can’t tell you you can’t come. I have to tell you, if this is good for me, it’s good for you.”
“Mason, you can’t drink until you’re twenty-one.”
“Yeah, you don’t think I know that?” said Mason, “Duh, I have the maturity of a twenty-one year old, so as far as I see, I’m not breaking any laws here.”
Maureen laughed. “Don’t mind him,” she added, “He’s had a little too much beverage this morning, if you know what I mean.”
“You guys really sneak around without me?” I asked, curious.
“Very rarely. Most of that is in his hallucinations, I’m sure. You know Mason. Life of the party.”
Mason looked half asleep. Maureen was the only thing keeping him awake. She handed me a card. “I know you don’t want to hear it, but happy birthday prom queen.”
“Prom hasn’t even started yet.”
“Oh, I know,” she said, glancing over at the crooked clock up on the wall, “Everyone knows it’s going to be you, though. Come on, Cass. You’re the most popular person here by far.”
“I told you. That doesn’t matter. I have you and all our friends and that’s all I really care about.”
“You’re sweet,” she said. Maureen’s curls bounced away from her green-blue eyes and she said, looking at the door and then back at me, “Amara told me.”
“Told you what?”
Mason finished for her. “We know about her spider prank on Mrs. Fritzel. She hasn’t come in yet, and I don’t know about you, but I’m totally recording it. This is finally my chance to become a YouTube sensation.”
“Yeah,” I replied, “but you guys, if Mrs. Fritzel asked who did it, it wasn’t me. This is all Amara and she doesn’t have this class until fourth hour. So no talking.”
“Our lips are sealed,” promised Maureen.
Mason’s head was sprawled out across his desk, and Maureen had to practically punch him to get his attention when Mrs. Fritzel walked in, her footsteps creaking against the floorboards. “Hurry,” Maureen whispered to Mason, “Get your phone out.”
Mrs. Fritzel came in wearing a turtleneck and skirt. It was the same outfit she wore every single day. She had turtlenecks of different colors she switched depending on the day, but still, it was always a turtleneck. She was an older teacher, in her forties, although not quite old enough to start growing grey hair. She was a blonde like me, except her hair was more of a dirty blonde color, and she wore glasses along the middle of her nose; her eyes were like glass, so blue and foggy.
Mrs. Fritzel wobbled over to her desk. I watched her more close up through Mason’s camera he was using on his phone. She sat down in her desk chair, clicking on the computer. Then it happened instantly. She screamed so loud it sounded like she was airborne for a second; his scream snuck through the vents until she finally stood up, aggressively shaking her hands and feet and almost tripping herself doing it. “She’s overreacting a bit for a fake spider, don’t you think?” I asked Maureen and Mason.
Maureen looked closer into the camera. I looked straight at Mrs. Fritzel, seeing a spider right at her feet. “Oh my god,” I said, “Are those actual spiders?”
“They totally are,” said Maureen, “A better show.”
Mason was laughing his head off like every other student in the classroom was. I was laughing too, thinking about how Amara always seemed to pull off huge stunts like these, and I just hoped I wouldn’t have to take the fall for it. There were thirty or more spiders all over the room. I wondered how Amara would even find a collection that big.
Everyone had to escort out into the hall for a while while the janitor helped get all the spiders out of the room. Mason showed Maureen and I the full video while we were out in the hall, and a couple others watched it with us. When we got back in, Mrs. Fritzel looked half traumatized, half livid. Her hands were still shaking. She talked with a louder voice than I’d ever heard. Her voice was no longer frail like it used to be. “Now never mind my fear of spiders. How one of you knew that I don’t know. What I do need to know, though, is who in the world’s stupid idea this was.” She waited as the class got silent; everyone was hiding their smiles. Mrs. Fritzel yelled, “Now. Fess up.”
Everyone looked around, hoping to god Mrs. Fritzel’s eyes didn’t meet theirs. Mason was the first to speak. He knew exactly how to speak at all of the wrong times. He said, yawning, “It’s just some prank. The spiders were supposed to be fake anyway.”
Maureen slapped him in the shoulder, and I slapped him right after she did. “What?” he whispered at us.
I felt all eyes on me. Mrs. Fritzel’s face was a tomato red. “Ms. Cooper. You and your friends. Detention. After school. My room. Got it?”
“But-“ I began.
“No buts about it.”
The bell rang, saving me and not saving me at the same time. On our way out, I nudged Mason again. “Why’d you do that?”
“Why do you think?” he mimicked, “Mrs. Fritzel kinda knew it was us. Plus it’s not like we’re actually going to detention.”
“Ah yeah we are,” I told him, “Have you met Mrs. Fritzel? She will log into the computer to find our address, drive over to our house, and she will drag us back to the school for detention if she has to.”
He shrugged. “Why you getting at me? This was all on Amara. Not me.”
Maureen pointed out Amara who was at her locker down the hall. I ran down there as fast as I could before the next bell sounded. “Hey nice prank,” I told her sarcastically, “You just gave us all detention.”
The halls were still pretty crowded, so I had to talk louder over all the shuffling feet. Amara was still fixing up her locker, making sure all her notebooks were in order when she said, “Wow, detention? So sad I missed it. Was the look on Mrs. Fritzel’s face just priceless?”
I dropped my bag down on the floor below the lockers. “Yeah, you could say that,” I said, my hands on my hips, “You could’ve given me a heads up that you used a whole freaking container of real live spiders.”
Amara’s face was blank. Usually I could see right through her and could tell exactly when she was lying, but this didn’t appear to be one of those times. “I swear. I don’t know what you’re talking about. I had one rubber spider below her desk. That’s it.”
“Well clearly you didn’t. Now you and all our friends have to go to detention on my birthday.”
“Sorry.” She shuddered. “Guess it beats, I don’t know, something worse.” She paused, grabbing her bag and throwing on her aqua blue sweatshirt. “Seriously, Cass, I didn’t do that. Someone else must’ve put the spiders there. I didn’t know about that. I can be pretty diabolical, but not that far.”
“Really?”
“Maybe it was Mason,” I suggested, “He seemed all into it. He was the one who turned us in.”
“Traitor. That guy has got to get a brain.”
Amara shut her locker, a folded up piece of paper falling out of it. She reached down to pick it up. “What’s that?” I teased, “A secret admirer?”
“Very funny,” she said, shaking her head. “No, actually it says it’s for you.”
“What?”
She handed it to me, showing me my name written over the top of it in neat, cursive writing. “See? It says your name here. Looks like you have a secret admirer, not me.”
“Deron doesn’t do love letters.”
“Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean other guys don’t like you. Like Tyson, maybe.”
“Ew, Amara, don’t say that. Me and Tyson are just friends. I’m happy with Deron.”
“The jerk Deron who doesn’t even remember to pick you up at the right times and doesn’t know anything about you except that the whole school likes you two together and that you’re pretty?”
“Shut up, Amara.” I unfolded the piece of paper and started to see what looked like red paint. It started leaking onto the floor. Once I saw what it said, I started to think it was something else other than paint and I freaked out.
Amara picked it up from the ground once she saw my eyes go in every direction, once I dropped it. “Murderer,” she read, “Why are you so scared? It’s clearly just a birthday prank.”
“No.”
Amara looked at me. “You don’t seriously think this is blood, do you?” she asked, smirking. “Cassie, this is Kingsfield, not Riverdale.”
“If this is some kind of prank-“
We all looked around for any guilty faces in the hall lurking about. Instead, we only found a police officer and every single person on their phones. Amara, on instinct, threw the paper in her locker and held her shoe over the blood or paint, we weren’t sure yet, just to make sure. “See?” I whispered to her, staring at the fully armed police officer with a mustache as he passed by.
Amara replied in a whisper, “I only put it in the locker because it looks bad. It doesn’t mean anything happened.”
“Amara, I’m not a murderer.”
Amara checked her phone. I was too afraid to so she told me what it said. Her eyes instantly went bloodshot. I had never seen her go from so calm to so terrified so fast. “Cassie, Liz, you know, student body president, our frenemy Liz, was murdered in the woods this morning. The woods where we were this morning.”
I covered my mouth with my hands, feeling frozen. “Amara, when Deron and I were pulling out, I thought I saw someone back there bleeding, but Deron told me it was nothing. I-what if it was Liz?”
She looked back at her closed locker. “Well, someone seems to think you did it.”
“I would never.”
“This looks bad though, Cassie. It looks really bad.”
I wiped the sweat off my brow, but more of it kept dripping out of my control.
The police officer had us all meet in the gym and he told us essentially what Amara read off her phone and what everyone read off their phones. Everyone knew about it before the officer had to tell us anything. The officer said he’d need to question some people throughout the week. I knew I wasn’t a murderer, but the whole time instead of listening, all I could think about was how someone could put that in Amara’s locker. It was in Amara’s pocket now, and any of the officers could easily search us and then it could get really bad. I was so scared I didn’t have time to feel grief for Liz.
It was extremely dead in the school after the meeting. The officer sent everyone home to try and cope with this shocking, awful news. Amara and I went to my locker to get my things. While I was busy rearranging my backpack, Amara opened my locker for me. She opened it and then shut it immediately after, her eyes watering. I never saw her more serious or scared.
I went to open up my locker to see what was up. But Amara stopped me. “Don’t open it,” she said, “Do you know how they said Liz died?”
“Gunshot?”
“Yeah,” said Amara, shaking furiously, her body looking like it was about to tumble, the ceiling looking fuzzy. She stared into my eyes, deeply. “Cassie, there’s a gun in your locker. You have the murder weapon.”