My least favorite class period of the day is seventh period, when I have gym class. I've never been an athletically built person, and I just don't enjoy sports in general. However, I'm required to have a P.E. credit.
So here I am.
The period has just ended, and after fifty minutes of running around the track, I am sweaty and tired. The last thing I want to do is have to sit through biology.
I follow the crowd into the locker room, making my way to my gym locker. I haven't made any friends in this class, and the only people I mildly know are Ava and Estella. They don't talk to me, though, and even if they did, I wouldn't want them to.
I quickly change from my gym uniform back into my t-shirt and jeans, pulling my hair out of its ponytail. I tie the laces on my Keds, wishing I could just go home.
I reach into my gym locker for my necklace, the one with the skull pendant.
My fingers close around the cool silver and I clasp it back around my neck, letting it fall past my collar bones as it always does.
I begin to gather my things, locking my gym locker and putting my phone in my pocket. Someone walks by and steps on my shoe and the lace comes untied. Sighing in frustration, I sit back down on the bench in the locker room to tie it.
"Her. She's the one."
I look up to see Ava standing in front of me, arms crossed over her chest. Her eyes are dark with contempt and her mouth is set in a tight line, makeup freshly applied. She has changed back to her school clothes already, and she looks absolutely furious.
Next to her stands Ms. Hansen, the assistant principal.
"Don't you see?" Ava points to my neck.
Heat rushes to my cheeks and my hand instinctively flies to the necklace.
"Is there a problem?" I ask, my heart rate increasing with each moment.
"Miss Marx, if you could accompany Miss Wright and I back to my office," Ms. Hansen says, her voice neither friendly nor angry.
I make eye contact with Ava. She stares down at me, disdain consuming her features.
I nod to Ms. Hansen, collecting my things quickly and trying to ignore the stares and gossiping girls around the locker room.
I follow the two of them out of the locker room and the gym, down the hallway to the main offices. What could possibly be going on? What is Ava doing?
When we finally arrive at Ms. Hansen's office, she tells Ava and me to sit down. Ava remains standing, however, as if she is too superior to me to sit beside me. I add the look on her face to my mental list of things I hate about Ava.
Ms. Hansen sits behind her desk, folding her hands in front of her. She is a fairly young woman, no older than thirty. She has red hair that she wears in a tight bun and green eyes. She wears a grey skirt and blazer.
"Girls," she says, shaking her head ever so slightly. "I believe there is a problem here?" She looks to Ava.
"Yes," Ava snaps. She looks to me, her eyes moving to where the necklace sits around my neck. "Jane stole my necklace."
The statement catches me so off guard that I almost fall out of the chair. I raise my eyebrows at her, thoroughly shocked. "What?"
"It's true," Ava says, looking back at Ms. Hansen. "That necklace was given to me three months ago by a very special person, and Jane stole it from me!"
I narrow my eyes, seeing right through her lie. Harry never gave her the necklace-he told me himself that no one even knew he had it except for his family.
"Who gave it to you, Ava?" I ask.
"Harry Styles," she says, without missing a beat. Ms. Hansen moves slightly from the corner of my eye. "Harry Styles gave it to me."
"No he didn't," I scoff before I can help it.
"What do you know?" Ava sneers. "You moved here barely a month ago!"
I shake my head, looking at Ms. Hansen to cover my verbal slip up. I have no reason to know anything about Harry that people would believe. "I didn't steal it. Why would I steal it? I don't even know where she lives."
"Easy," Ava says. "You took it from me in gym."
"What evidence do you have against her, Ava?" Ms. Hansen speaks up.
"I have a witness," Ava says, lips folding into a satisfied smirk.
"Who?"
"Estella Richardson."
Estella?
The entire ordeal is so ludicrous I don't even know how to react.
Ms. Hansen presses a button on her office phone. "Send Estella Richardson in," she says before releasing the button. The three of us wait in silence until Estella walks through the door to the office.
"Afternoon, Miss Richardson," Ms. Hansen says. "Miss Wright tells me you witnessed Miss Marx stealing a necklace from her gym locker."
Estella nods, a wad of green gum being chewed between her teeth. "Saw it all," she says.
"What exactly did you see?"
"Well, during gym I ask to go to the restroom, and I saw Jane over by Ava's locker," she says, twirling a strand of bleached blonde hair around her finger. "And I saw her pull out the necklace and drop it in her pocket. It was towards the end of class, and I guess she had gone back to change early." Estella shrugs.
My jaw drops. "What? No! This is such-" I take a breath, trying to calm myself so I don't completely blow up.
"Jane," Ms. Hansen says. "I'm only going to ask you this once. Did you steal the necklace?"
"No," I say immediately, firmly.
"Then how did you get it?" Ava asks.
"I told you, I bought it," I say, referring to my lie I told the first day when she asked me about it in English class. Of course I can't tell her I got it from her dead ex-boyfriend.
Ava scoffs, rolling her eyes. "Estella saw you do it. There's no point in lying about it."
What an ironic statement, from the one who is orchestrating this entire sabotage by lying.
"I didn't do it," I say to Ms. Hansen. "I wouldn't steal it. I didn't even know Ava until my first day."
Ms. Hansen purses her lips. "I'm sorry, Jane, but we have a witness," she says skeptically.
"She's lying!" I say desperately. "Ava's got her in on it, she's-"
"Please hand me the necklace," Ms. Hansen says.
I close my hand around the pendant, my chest hurting. This isn't even my necklace, it's Harry's. Harry's that he got from his grandmother, on her deathbed. Not Ava's, not mine. It's Harry's, and by handing it to Ms. Hansen and giving into Ava, I'm betraying a small part of him that he entrusted in me.
Ava looks at me smugly. How would I tell Harry that I don't have his necklace? That Ava does?
"No," I say. "It's not hers, I didn't steal it."
Ms. Hansen sighs. "I hate to do this," she says, pressing a button on her office phone. "Please send in Officer Lyle."
My eyes widen and I shake my head. The school officer? This is unbelievable. Officer Lyle is a tall man with brown eyes and graying hair. He is the police officer that directs traffic after school and occasionally deals with problems like this. In fact, this is probably the most exciting thing he's done around campus all year.
"Is there a problem?" He asks in his deep voice once he enters the office.
"Jane refuses to hand over stolen property," Ava says.
"Ava," Ms. Hansen says in a warning tone. She looks back at me. "I'll ask you again, Miss Marx. Please hand over the necklace."
I have no choice.
With a sinking feeling, I unclasp the necklace and drop it in the hand of Ms. Hansen. Ava and Estella wear matching smirks.
"I'm writing you an excused absence to eighth period," Ms. Hansen says to me as I watch her hand Ava the necklace. "Officer Lyle has to take you to the station, just to clear everything up."
"What?"
"It's county protocol," Officer Lyle speaks up. "If you don't argue, I won't cuff you."
I glare at him as I stand. Judging from the unamused look on his face, he's seen that glare on many convicted faces before. I shoot a nasty look to Ava and Estella before following Officer Lyle out of the office.
He leads me out of the school and to where his cruiser is parked. When I sit in the back of it, it all comes crashing down on me.
Ava and Estella framed me. I no longer have Harry's necklace. I am going to the police station in the back of a cruiser for something I never did.
"Let me guess, you didn't do it." Officer Lyle's eyes hold humor in the rearview mirror as we drive along.
"I didn't," I say, and then realize I must sound like everyone else that gets taken down to the station. I huff, looking out the window.
He chuckles. "Teens," he says, shaking his head.
I grimace, ignoring him.
We arrive at the station shortly after, and he leads me into the station. He seats me in a small office and tells me he'll be back.
I look around the room. I sit in front of a desk, and the wall behind it is almost entirely covered in photographs. Some of them don't even make sense, but the entire place seems like your typical police station office-missing persons flyers and wanted criminal notices flanking the walls. A metal placard sits on the desk, reading Detective Jennifer Whitmore.
After a few minutes, a tall woman with dark hair French braided down her back enters. She wears a light blue blouse and a navy skirt with black pumps. She sits at the desk before me.
"Jane Marx," she says, opening a file on her desk. "I'm Detective Whitmore."
I nod, not answering her.
"This report says you're in for theft," she says, finally looking up at me. Her eyes are a shocking cornflower blue, a sharp contrast to her dark features.
"I was framed," I say. "I didn't do anything wrong."
She purses her lips to hide a smirk. "I see."
God, I wish these cops could have at least some damn sympathy.
"Well, I'm going to have to call your legal guardians in to sign and take care of some things," she says, shutting the file. "You're charged with a misdemeanor, and you're probably going to have to do a few hours of community service."
"Both my parents are at work right now," I say.
"Looks like you'll be here for a while, then." She smiles without humor.
I shake my head. "I swear to you, I was framed."
"That's what everyone says, sugar. Sit tight. I've got some phone calls to make."
She stands and walks out of the room.
I huff, crossing my arms over my chest. What are my parents going to think of all this? This is such a mess.
A few minutes later, Detective Whitmore walks back into the office. "Your father's on his way. Lucky for you, he loves you more than his job."
I stare at her as she sits back in her chair, sighing. She pulls a tin of mints from her desk drawer. She offers me one, and I decline. She pops the mint into her mouth, leaning back in her chair. "So you're new around here, aren't you?"
I nod. "Which makes the idea of me stealing the necklace of someone I hardly know highly implausible."
"Anything's possible," she says, shrugging. She eyes me. "Look, you don't seem like a troublemaker, but you'd be surprised at the things kids like you do around here."
My mind snaps to Harry's murder.
"Did you deal with the murder case of Harry Styles?" I ask her. Better to be straightforward than to beat around the bush.
Her eyebrows shoot up at my abruptness and she stops sucking on the mint. She leans forward, resting her elbows on the desk.
"And what would you, new kid, know about Harry Styles?"
I lift a shoulder. "I've heard some things."
"Ha," she says. "The old rumor mill, eh? Well." She pulls a tube of lipstick from the desk drawer. "Rumors are for the bored and unintelligent."
"The bored and unintelligent make up a large portion of the population," I point out.
"True," she says, sliding the dark red lipstick across her bottom lip and then her top lip. She opens a small compact mirror. "But the case was closed for a reason, despite whatever the rumors may be."
"And that reason is?"
Her eyes flick from the compact to me. She snaps it shut, closing her tube of lipstick and returning the supplies to her desk drawer.
"That's undisclosed information," she says, without missing a beat.
"Did you work on the case first hand?"
"I was assigned to it."
"So you must have failed, then."
"I never fail." She purses her lips. "I've worked with the Castle Hill P.D. for eleven years. I never fail."
"Then why was the case closed?"
"Cold case. Not enough evidence, no suspects."
"Then you must not have investigated enough."
"Look," she snaps, her tone turned ice. "I don't know why you find yourself so interested in the Harry Styles case, but I can't and won't discuss it with you." The phone on her desk rings and she punches a button on it without even looking at it. "Your father's here."
She stands from the desk and walks to the door, opening it and gesturing for someone to walk in.
In walks my dad, dressed for work and worry etched into his face.
"Jane, thank God," he says, sitting in the seat beside me. "I was so worried. What happened?"
"Simple misdemeanor," Detective Whitmore says, walking to the front of her desk and leaning back against it. "She stole a necklace from a classmate."
"Stole?" My father looks at me as if he does not know me.
"I was framed," I say.
"Yeah, yeah," Whitmore says, reaching behind her to the desk. She hands my father a clipboard. "Go over this paperwork and she's free to go. A court date will be set for later in the month, and she'll probably get off with some community service."
My father seems so in shock that the clipboard almost slips from his fingers, and Whitmore has to set it in his lap.
"I'll be back in a few," she says before walking out of the office.
My dad fills out the paperwork in silence.
I hear him muttering under his breath, but I can't make out what he's saying.
The worst thing a parent can say is that they are disappointed in you. It's worse than all the white hot anger and yelling, worse than all the groundings and punishments. It's almost like you've failed them, like all their parenting has gone to waste.
My father does not say that he is disappointed in me now, but I know he's thinking it. I can practically feel it in the air. Even though I didn't steal the necklace.
Finally, Whitmore walks back into the room, cup of coffee in hand. She takes a long sip of it and looks at my father expectantly.
He hands her the clipboard and she sets it on her desk.
"Alright, you're free to go," she says. "Hopefully you won't be back," she says to me, an edge to her voice.
I nod to her and walk out of the office. I hear my father thanking her for her trouble and resist rolling my eyes.
The car ride home is silent.
Until my father decides to speak.
"I can't believe this," he says. "What will your mother say? You've now got a criminal record, Jane."
"I didn't do it," I say.
"Yeah, Jane, that's what they all say," he snaps.
"Well it's true!" I retort. "They framed me, it's all them!"
"Am I supposed to believe that? I just picked you up from the damn police station, Jane Marx!"
"I didn't steal the necklace. Dad, you know me. Do you think I would really do that?"
"I don't know anymore," he says, shaking his head. "I also thought you wouldn't try to kill yourself, but you proved me wrong on that one!"
I flinch. "Too far."
"I'm sorry," he says. "But this is unbelievable. We've been in Castle Hill a few weeks and you've ended up at the police station? The police station, Jane, where they take criminals!"
"I'm not a criminal!" I shout over him. "I didn't steal it, I swear on my life!"
He's red in the face and angry-really angry. I haven't seen him this angry since my suicide attempt.
"We'll talk about this when we get home," he says, his voice surprisingly even.
I slump in my seat.
When we get home, I go straight to my room and shut the door. My mother won't be home for an hour, so we won't have the whole family talk thing until then.
I need to tell Harry about the necklace.
I feel a pang in my chest. Why would Ava want to frame me?
He won't be that mad at me, right? It's not my fault. Right?
I lock my door and open the window, sliding down the vine and making my way across the backyard and down the path to the clearing.
Luckily, he's there.
He's laying flat on his back in the middle of the clearing, staring at the sky.
"You're home early," he says, looking over at me.
I stick my hands in my pockets. "I was at the police station."
His eyebrows shoot up. He sits up and pushes himself to a standing position, walking over to me.
"What the hell were you doing at the police station?"
I spill everything to him, from when Ms. Hansen and Ava found me in the locker room to my father picking me up. My voice rises as I tell him, anger coursing through me.
When I finish, I stand back and await his reply.
"So," he says quietly. "Ava has the necklace."
I swallow, nodding.
He turns around, walking away from me, putting his head in his hands. His fingers run through his dark hair again and again. He turns slightly back toward me.
"I'm very upset," he says.
"I'm sorry," I say.
"No, I'm very upset," he says, turning completely toward me. "How could you let this happen, Jane? That was my grandmother's, the last part of my life that I had!" He's shouting. I didn't expect him to get so angry.
"It wasn't my fault!" I say. "How could I have known Ava was going to frame me?"
"You could've..." He searches for words to say. "You could've been more careful. Now this is bad, this is really bad. I don't want that necklace with Ava, I want it with you and only you."
A place in my heart warms with his words but is quickly extinguished with his furious glare.
"Don't blame me," I say. "Blame her. She's the one that planned this whole thing, and now I probably have to do community service for it. And I have a criminal record! How the hell do you think I feel, Harry?"
"Not half as shitty as I feel," he says. "You need to get that necklace back."
"What do you want me to do, steal it? Hell no. That's what got me into this shit in the first place, and I didn't even do it!"
"I can't believe this, I can't believe you-"
"Stop blaming me!" I shake my head. "God, if you could feel, I would smack you so hard right now!"
"Too bad I'm dead, right?" He crosses his arms over his chest in frustration, eyes flashing.
I put my head in my hands, sighing. "Can we just stop fighting? This isn't getting us anywhere."
He looks away from me like a child.
"Harry," I snap at him and he looks back at me stubbornly.
"Fine," he snaps back. "I'm still mad at you."
"Fine, be mad." I sit down in the grass dejectedly.
He stays standing for a moment longer before sitting beside me.
I look down at the grass, twisting it around my fingers. A perfectly normal day has become so twisted and crazy.
"I'm sorry she has the necklace," I say quietly. "I'm sorry it upset you so much, but it's really not my fault."
I feel his eyes on me. "I know," he finally says. "I'm sorry I got so mad."
"You had a right to. It was your grandmother's. I guess I just didn't expect you to get so angry." I shrug.
"The bottom line is, we need to get the necklace back," he says, his voice even.
"How?"
"You've just got to prove that you didn't steal it."
"How am I supposed to do that? No one believes me."
Harry looks off into the distance, concentration written into his features. "Tomorrow is Saturday," he says. "Give me the night to think of something, and meet me in the cemetery tomorrow after you wake up."
I nod. "Okay."
He leans forward, pressing his freezing lips to my cheek gently. Blush rises to my skin instantly.
"It's not your fault," he says, turning my head to face him with his fingertips. "Alright?"
I nod.
"Go home," he says, standing and pulling me to my feet with him. "Your mother will be back soon."
As I walk down the path back toward the house, I feel a slow, scalding hot sensation of pure anger build within me at Ava. She may have sabotaged me now, but I will find a way to turn this around on her. I've got the dead on my side.