“Huh,” she says. Then she shrugs and goes back to her own lunch.
For probably ten seconds, there’s absolute silence at the table. Betties One and Two are staringunflatteringly at Betty Three, and I’m regretting that I didn’t think to try hummus with my carrots.
Then Betty Two clears her throat, alerting me that she’s about to speak. I glance up just in time.
“So my name is Bethany,” she says. “And before Hailey came, Elizabeth was here—but obviously I like you a lot more than I liked Elizabeth,” Bethany adds quickly to Hailey. Then she turns back to me. “So Elizabeth thought since she was Elizabeth and I was Bethany, we should call ourselves the Betties.”
I blink at her. “Why not the Beths?”
“She said it didn’t have the same ring to it,” Bethany says sadly.
“Right,” I say. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t need to know. “Uh, I saw you guys at Homecoming. Outside, coming up the stairs from the track and field. Why weren’t you inside chaperoning?”
It’s not tactful. There’s no natural lead-in. But screw it; I’ve asked something I need to ask. All I can do is hope they answer.
“Uh,” Bethany says, her gaze darting to Hailey. The color drains from her face rapidly, something that spikes my pulse as my heart begins to beat faster. She shifts in her seat, looking more uncomfortable by the second. “Well. It was nothing. No reason.”
Hailey nudges her with her elbow, glaring. They exchange one more glance before Bethany digs into her salad, shoving more lettuce in her mouth than anyone realistically needs in one bite.
“Don’t worry about it,” Hailey says briskly. “We just needed some fresh air.” Unlike Bethany, she still has color in her cheeks—but her face is drawn, tense lines etched around her mouth and eyes. Then she, too, takes a bite of her food.
I stare at them, frankly dumbfounded. I don’t think they could be more suspicious if they tried. When I glance at Nessa,I can tell she’s thinking the same thing; her brows are drawn low over her eyes, her mouth turned down into a little frown.
“All right,” I say, because it doesn’t look like I’m going to get more of an answer than that, and I still have more questions. “Whatever. Did you guys have any absences today?”
The three of them look at me, each of them frowning slightly. Absences aren’t really something they sit and gossip about, apparently. I can’t help but notice, though, that both Hailey and Bethany visibly relax at the change in subject.
“I’ve had a couple,” Betty One/Hailey says. “Did you guys?”
“A few,” Betty Two/Bethany says with a shrug. Then she straightens up. “Oh,” she says, looking at Betty One with wide eyes. “But…Sandy wasn’t here.”
Betty One’s eyes dart from Betty Two to me and then back.
“Sandy?” I say quickly. That has to be Sandra von Meller, right? I clear my throat, trying to sound more casual as I ask, “Who’s Sandy? Is she a bad student or something?”
“No,” Betty One says dismissively after an awkward pause. “Her grades are fine. But she’s a stuck-up little rich girl, a beauty queen type. A complete snob.”
So…kind of like Betty One.
I do not say this.
Instead I say, “I think I know who you’re talking about. Blonde hair? Her name is Sandra, right?”
Betty One and Betty Two both nod. “Sandra von Meller.”
My heart stops; my skin crawls as once again I’m assaulted with the memory of the girl in the woods.
Sandra. Sandra von Meller.
That “stuck-up little rich girl,” as Betty One called her, is dead.
And I thought Juniper and I were the only ones who knew that, but…Betties One and Two are making me question this assumption. My mind flashes back and forth between the photo in the yearbook and the image of her on the forest floor.
And it hits me, suddenly, why she looked familiar.
She volunteered at the food bank. Sandra von Meller worked at the Autumn Grove Food Bank. Not often, I don’t think, but I’m almost positive I saw her there a few times. In fact—my stomach turns, my appetite vanishing—I think she’s the one whose shift I covered the other day.
“I have to go,” I mutter to the Betties. Surprisingly, all three of them seem happy to see the back of me; they really must not have liked the questions I was asking.
