The Good Girls

Chapter 34

"PASS THE MUFFINS, WOULD YOU?" Audrey mumbled through her already-full mouth.

Uma snatched the basket off the coffee table and passed it across, leaving a trail of gluten-free Paleo morning glory crumbs across Audrey's sprawling L-shaped couch. "Thanks," Audrey said gratefully, stuffing one in her mouth. "These are my favorite." She was about to wax poetic about how the muffins were both decadent and fairly healthy when Uma shushed her, pointing to the TV across the room.

"An update!" Uma cried.

Jane grabbed for the remote and turned it up. A chipper blond reporter stood in front of Auradon Prep. They caught her in mid-sentence. ". . . Grimhilde has confessed to three confirmed killings—Ben Florian, Jay Maraj, and Crystal White, whose body was discovered by police divers in a river behind White's house yesterday, just where Grimhilde told them it would be. Three of Grimhilde's classmates at Auradon Prep have admitted to pulling a prank on state senator Florian's son, Ben, involving OxyContin, but they have been cleared of any involvement in his death and given a slap on the wrist."

Audrey shifted nervously, weirded out that their secret was finally out in the open. Not that the reporter called them out by name . . . but still. They'd negotiated to keep other details of what they told the police a secret, too. Like how they'd made that list in film studies of people they wanted dead . . . and how that list wormed its way into Evie's head until she felt it necessary to avenge all their enemies. Audrey hadn't wanted to tell the police about the list, but it was probably right to come absolutely clean. Still, she hoped that the police would never, ever tell anyone about it. She couldn't imagine what her father would think of her if he knew.

The reporter continued. "Grimhilde herself said they had nothing to do with the murders. It is assumed the high school senior will likely try for an insanity plea, as her case of split personalities is, according to experts, 'extremely severe.'"

The screen flashed to a shot of Evie's dilapidated house, where crime scene techs in full-body biohazard suits swarmed in and out, carrying filthy box after filthy box. They cut to Evie's mother standing on her porch, greasy hair pushed back from her face, her torn, shabby housecoat and crazy eyes on display for the world to see. "Evie was never right. Never right. Her father knew it from the start."

And back to the reporter, her hair blowing in one solid piece in the breeze: "Join us tonight at eight, when our own Anderson Cooper finds out what goes on inside the mind of a teenage killer. He sits down with Grimhilde's mother for a one-on-one interview you won't want to miss. Now back to you in the studio, Kate."

Uma muted the TV again, and the girls sat in silence.

"Why don't I feel any better?" Jane asked miserably.

Uma tossed the remote onto the couch between them. "I don't know if it's better or worse that we don't have to go to school this week."

Suddenly, Audrey's phone buzzed in her pajama pants pocket. She had a text from Chad. Are you okay? What can I do?

She smiled and tapped out a quick response, asking if he'd come over later. She was so glad everything between her and Chad was okay. He made her feel protected and safe.

Then a shadow appeared in the doorway. Audrey looked up. It was her father, wearing a rumpled sweater and corduroy pants. Audrey shot to her feet. "Dad?" she asked worriedly. "Is everything okay? Is it Leslie?"

Mr. Rose looked conflicted. "Do you mind if I speak to you alone for a moment, honey?"

"Sure," Audrey said, shrugging to her friends and disappearing into the hall. Her father leaned against the railing, worrying his hands together. Audrey's heart pounded hard. Maybe there was something wrong with Leslie. Or—and maybe this was worse—maybe her father had found out that Evie had shoved Leslie off that balcony because Audrey wished her dead. What if he hated her now? What if he wanted her out of the house? Maybe she deserved that, though. Once people started dying, once they'd gotten an inkling that this might not be a coincidence, she hadn't done much to keep Leslie safe.

Finally, her dad took a breath and looked up. "Leslie awoke from her coma this morning."

Audrey's mouth dropped open. "She . . . did?"

He nodded, but strangely, he didn't look that happy. "Yes. And she started saying immediately that you did this to her."

Audrey's heart plummeted. "I didn't," she squeaked. "You know I never—"

"Audrey, why did you never tell me the truth?"

She blinked, silenced. Her father looked so sad. "The truth about what?" she asked in a small voice.

Mr. Rose shut his eyes. "I installed security cameras in the house a few months ago when Leslie started saying that she thought the cleaning lady was stealing from us. They're in the living room, dining room, kitchen."

Audrey frowned. "You . . . did?" She hadn't known about that.

He nodded. "And just now, I watched some of them. Watched how Leslie interacted with you. Always when I was out of the room, out of earshot. But the things she said, Honey. Horrible things. Things that weren't true. They were the same sorts of things she said when she awoke from the coma this morning. I'd never heard her talk like that—I was so surprised. That's why I went and looked at the cameras." He leaned closer to her, plaintive. "Why did you never come to me with any of this?"

Audrey blinked, astonished. "B-because I didn't know if you'd listen." A look of heartbreak crossed his features. "You started dating Leslie so fast after Mom," Audrey said quickly. "And she came in and just . . . changed everything about you. I just figured she changed how you thought about me, too." She lowered her eyes. "I thought you wouldn't believe me."

Mr. Rose opened his mouth as if he wanted to protest, but shut it again. Tears silently welled in his eyes. He pulled Audrey close and wrapped her in a huge hug. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry," he whispered.

Audrey started crying, too. And they stood there, the two of them, father and daughter, locked in an embrace for what seemed like forever. Audrey didn't know what the future would hold, but something told her that Leslie might not be in it—or, if she was, that their lives would be very, very different. It felt like her father was back. Truly hers again, truly looking out for her. Which, somehow, just made her cry harder.

Suddenly, she flashed back to Friday night at Freddie's party, when Evie had told them that "Mal" had killed all those people. Admit it, you would be thrilled to be free of Leslie, she'd said to Audrey. You'd have your father back.

It was a horrible thought, but it was true: Now that they were free of Leslie—or at least, the distrust she'd created in their family—Audrey had her father back. But just because she'd wished for it didn't mean it should have happened that way. Just because someone was a jerk . . . or a child-beater . . . or a bitch . . . that didn't mean they deserved to die.

She shut her eyes. She wasn't sure what she deserved these days, but one thing was for sure: She was never, ever taking anything for granted anymore. Not Chad. Not her father. Not her freedom.

And she was never saying anything that she might live to regret.