It’s been a week since I’ve seen or heard from Ethan. I’ve tried to call him and text him, but he always claims he’s busy. Life has turned back to the regular routine it used to be. Being with Ethan had taken me away from my Queen Bee duties; students at Manhattan Prep were running around, acting like I no longer reigned.
On my first day back without Ethan, Caroline and Madeline caught me up on the latest gossip during lunch, while Lauren began damage control by informing everyone my temporary absence had ended and I was back to normal, ready to rule again. The next day, my morning latte was delivered to me once again by a hopelessly devoted freshman, while everyone told me to have a wonderful day. Students moved out of my way as I walked through the hallways and whispered amongst each other the latest rumor concerning my return.
Logan had returned to his routine of ignoring me and flirting with every female in his sight. I didn’t mind though, he and I would never work out. We were completely different people. It was heartwarming to rejoin the life I had been used to, but even after all my luxuries had been regained, I still felt a void deep inside my heart. The scary thing is, I didn’t know what the void was, Logan or Ethan.
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“Omg!” Madeline gasped. Lauren, Caroline, and I looked up from our Calculus books and stared as a dumbfound Madeline stared at her pink iPhone.
“What?” Caroline asked, ripping Madeline’s phone away from her grasp. Her blue eyes widened when they turned to its screen.
“What?” Lauren and I asked in sync. Caroline handed the phone over to Lauren, before standing up and running a hand through her blonde hair. Her brows creased together, highlighting her worry.
Upon Madeline’s phone screen was an open blog article about Amy. It’s headline read: Is socialite, Amy Walker, a murder?
“Who wrote this?” I asked, looking at the three other girls in my room. One of them had to know who wrote this article. Madeline took the phone back and scrolled down the webpage with her fingertips.
“It says, Bradford56,” she began. “The profile doesn’t have a real name, and there’s no picture.”
Lauren started playing with her fingers, and I knew she was nervous for the same reasons as I was. We were both in danger, if Amy could kill Danielle and make it look like an accident; she could do the same to Lauren and I. My phone vibrated in my pocket and as I pulled it out, Lauren’s phone went off too. With one look of horror plastered on our faces, we both turned our eyes to our phones’ screens and read the message in silence:
You bitches have some explaining to do
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The soft hum of New York City traffic rang throughout the vacant streets of SoHo. My Christian Ricci heels clicked loudly against the begrimed sidewalk, while Lauren's bag rattled as the items within bounced along with the rhythm of her footsteps. We were one of the few pedestrians walking through the streets of SoHo, it was midnight, and many of the neighborhood's residents had gone to sleep. We walked the steps of a newly renovated townhouse complex and knocked on its massive oak wood doors.
The sounds of locks being turned echoed in the cold night air, and a distant memory of meetings during midnight with Amy reemerged. Lauren and I spent most of our summer of freshman year meeting Amy in her father's SoHo studio, discussing our story in case evidence would tie us to Danielle's death.
Of course being the clever girl she is, Amy insured no evidence existed. Danielle's death was declared as a horrid accident, and the case was closed.
YOU ARE READING
Monsters of Manhattan
Fiksi RemajaPeople aren't called monsters because they paint rainbows and snowflakes. No, they're called monsters because they have a limitless ambition to achieve what they want and maintain what they have, and in Manhattan, what you want and what you have mig...
