~?~
This is an interesting development. I'd never expected Mishka to ask anyone for help, let alone him. She must be desperate, considering how much she'd supposedly professed to hating him. I'm not surprised she hasn't given up, though; she's always been stubborn. It's actually kind of cute how she's so determined to find me.
Still, discovering she's getting help isn't exactly welcome news. I'm the last person she'd expect to take over her blog, but that doesn't mean the others won't suspect me. One slip-up, just one, and the game could be over.
I'm not too worried, not yet. It's another nosy bitch who I need to watch out for.
Quinn has almost uncovered the truth, but I'm not sure they know it yet. Unlike the others, their snooping is doing more than aimless searching. They have a solid plan, one the cops might listen to with all their reasoning. I couldn't help but stay back last night, pretending I was waiting for a lift home, so I could listen to what they had to say. Quinn spent most of their interview trying to convince everyone that, whilst they were innocent, one of us wasn't, pointing not just to motive but opportunity and means.
And who'd had a better opportunity than me? Knowing Vincent was alone, following his steps, wanting to finish what he'd started. Wanting to finish it all...
"Damn it!"
I kick at the locker nearest me, leaving a dent in its door. I feel my blood boiling as I clutch my bag strap and start for the door, stomping extra hard on the floor.
Quinn can't figure this out. They can't make it into something more sinister than an accident. I won't let them.
YOU ARE READING
Call Me Rumpel
Teen Fiction"There's something I need to tell you," I say, my mouth instantly going dry. "About Call Me Rumpelstiltskin." Seventeen-year-old Mishka Winscott knows all there is to disguises. On the outside, she lives the perfect fairy tale life. No one knows abo...
