Cupid's Guide to Murder

Chapter 8: Secrets, Secrets Are No Fun

People said to be careful what you wish for. Wishes had a way of coming true, even if it was in the most twisted way. All we ever wanted was the party of the decade, the most unforgettable senior year.

Now, no matter how much we wanted to, we wouldn't forget. Our lives altered in seconds, each of us tied to a night that had ended in darkness.

Natasha's confirmed date and time of death lingered in my mind. As I drove past the roads filled with grainy potholes, my eyes landed on the flyer posted on the tree. A black-and-white picture of Natasha's face was above her information — a description of her eye color, height, and where she was last seen.

Have you seen this person?

I had seen her. Less than 24 hours ago. Her pale face and empty blue eyes still haunted me; maybe they would forever.

Even though she was dead, a part of her felt so vividly real. So alive, holding on to remnants of pain and regret, shadowed by the hidden feelings inside. I didn't want to remember her like that — a vengeful best friend, dead at a party. I wished I could paint over the last memory I had with her.

It was ironic, wasn't it? You could spend your entire life hating someone for what they did to you. That was what I did with her, after all. I hated her for breaking my trust and for coming into my life and leaving it in shackles.

I hated her, and yet I still wanted her to be here. She took away the chance for us ever to fix things between us. She left us all behind, and now we were the ones left caring, left wanting answers —

Left feeling guilty.

Even though it was dawn, the sky was dark when I got home. I stayed in the driver's seat for a moment longer, squeezing the steering wheel. I ignored my parents' calls and didn't know how I would face them now. Taking a deep breath, I pulled my jacket closer to my body and walked to the front. As soon as the key turned in the lock, I heard voices.

My mom had the phone to her ear, and my dad was standing there, trying to console her by stroking her arm. She immediately put the phone down and walked over when she saw me, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Haven, I have been calling you for hours. Why weren't you answering? God, I've been worried sick." She shook her head, strands of her hair falling into her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Mom," I said, dropping my overnight bag at the kitchen high-top table. "Last night was terrible." My voice came out ragged, broken. "Mom, Natasha..." I couldn't bring myself to say the words.

"I know, honey," my mom said. "I got a call from her mother." She pulled back to look at me, eyes filled with worry.

Sometimes, I forgot that even though the friendship between Natasha and I had ended, our moms were still friends. Natasha's mother was on the Fairwood Charity Board, too.

"What happened at that party? Was anyone else hurt?" My dad started pacing back and forth, shaking his head. "High school parties are a bad idea. I knew we shouldn't have let you go."

"It wasn't the party, Dad. I've been to parties before." My voice caught. "This is something else." Suicide? Murder? I didn't think either story made the situation less dreary. Despite Justin's words last night, I knew Natasha.

Even when she hit rock bottom, she wouldn't do it.

There was a lot I didn't know about her, but that much I did. I felt it in my bones.

My dad looked at me; his forehead etched with worry. "Did the police ask questions?"

"Not yet." My mouth was dry.