Killing Callie

Madison's Story

     Aiden’s gaze shifted from the wall behind Emma to Officer Reynolds, who was staring at him with his mouth slightly agape. “Are…are you sure that’s exactly what happened, Aiden?” Officer Reynolds was skeptical, but Aiden seemed honest enough.

     Aiden nodded his head, “All of it. She was a bitch and she was ruthless. But she was still the only reason I became so well-respected at school…”

     Officer Reynolds blinked his eyes a couple of times. This Callie girl was definitely manipulative. Her murder could have very easily been an act of revenge – that is, if she treated everyone the same way she treated Aiden.

     “Aiden, do you know what ‘Joker’ could have meant?” Officer Reynolds asked, and Aiden shook his head.

     “I’ve got no clue.”

     This was interesting to Reynolds. Aiden could technically be an immediate suspect in this case. He had a fight with Callie and then a day later she turned up dead? Reynolds wrote something down on a notepad and lifted his head.

     He turned to the girl with the dirty blonde hair. She was looking at Aiden now; her eyes reflected an unreadable expression. Maybe it was remorse? Or possibly…even understanding? She wanted to say something to Aiden, but she refrained for some reason.

     “Madison,” the girl looked at the officer with questioning eyes, “would you mind telling me when you last saw Callie, and what you two were doing?”

     Madison seemed hesitant, and Officer Reynolds couldn’t help but let his mind roam. She didn’t want to speak, but at the same time she did. What was she thinking? Could Callie have had such a strong grip on these four best friends of hers that they were almost like her dolls? Her own personal puppets to control and manipulate to her every whim? Did she have control even after death? What had been so frightening about her? What was she capable of?

     “Sure.” Madison finally managed, and she inhaled a shaky breath. Without Callie, she felt so lost. She felt as if something inside of her had completely vanished, and it was tormenting her very being.

     “Go ahead then.” Officer Reynolds urged, and Madison nodded.

     “I saw Callie yesterday afternoon – after school. We went home together and we were upstairs in her room, trying on different outfits…”

 

MADISON – September 3, 2012 – 4:45 PM

     “Callie! Madison! Come downstairs! I made some cookies!” Callie’s mom called to us from the kitchen and we made our way down.

     “Oh my god, your mom makes the best chocolate chip cookies.” I gushed, my mouth already watering at the thought of warm cookies and milk.

     “I guess so.” Callie replied nonchalantly, and she strolled into the kitchen without a care in the world, her small waist swaying with each step. Why couldn’t I look like her? Why was she just so perfect? Callie’s mom – Miranda – was bent over the oven, pulling out the cookie sheet when I walked in.

     Callie seated herself at the breakfast nook, setting her well-manicured hands on the granite and gesturing for me to come join her. I still couldn’t believe Callie Thompson – the most popular girl at Ashton High – had made me her friend in freshman year. It was all so surreal, and I was still trying to learn how to be the perfect popular girl. There was a certain way to act, a certain way to talk, a certain way to walk, and a certain way to dress.

     Miranda set the cookie sheet on the counter in front of us just as I sat down on my stool. I eyed the tray hungrily, and my stomach growled at the sight. Callie didn’t seem to notice, and I was thankful. That would have been so embarrassing.

     “Enjoy.” Miranda said with a smile; then she turned around and started searching through the fridge.

     “Thanks.” I replied, and picked up the largest cookie on the tray, before bringing it to my mouth. Callie cleared her throat.

     “You’re not really gonna eat that…are you, Maddie?” Callie’s voice was innocent, but I could sense a slight patronizing tone laced in-between the words. My hand faltered a bit, and I debated with myself.

     “Sh-should I?” I asked nervously, and Callie gave me a sweet, tight-lipped smile. Her hand rested on my shoulder.

     “Sweetheart, I can’t tell you what to eat.” Callie laughed, “But I can tell you that I’ve noticed your jeans getting a bit tighter lately. And that top you tried on today looked a bit too snug around the waist.” Callie’s words were dripping with malice. Was she calling me fat?

But the way she said it was so innocent….so full of compassion.

     She was just trying to help me out, right?

     I hesitated before placing the cookie back down on the counter and placing my hands idly in my lap. “I guess you’re right.” I muttered disappointedly, and she smiled again.

     “That’s a good girl.” She praised, and stroked my hair lightly with her soft hands. Miranda spoke up from her place over the sink as she washed dishes.

     “Callie,” she called over the sound of running water. Callie turned to face her with a roll of the eyes.

     “Yes, mother?”

     “I really think you should treat your friends better, don’t you? Sometimes things come back to bite us. And we wouldn’t want that…right?” Miranda’s voice was calm and collected, but something about it sounded almost threatening and ominous.

     Callie seemed to pick up on it as well, because her indignant and annoyed expression wavered slightly, exposing an almost scared look in her eyes. Her jaw clenched, and I watched in awe as the strong girl I knew seemed to be taken down a level by the questionable words of her own mother.

     “It depends, mother. Dogs like to bite people; but with the right training, they know just who to bite.” Callie abruptly hopped off her stool and hurried to the stairs, a flustered look on her face. She was halfway up when she looked back down at me with narrowed eyes, “I’m waiting, Maddie.”

     I stepped down from the stool and made my way towards the staircase, taking one last look at Miranda. Her piercing blue eyes were focused intently on the ceramic plate she was scrubbing. But something else was reflected in her eyes. Something dangerous.

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