Perfect Mistake Read online

  Don't open it. Don't play into her game. Ignore it.

  She started for the bathroom, but just couldn't do it. The curiosity was too much. Cursing under her breath at her own weakness, she walked over and pried open the box. The contents tumbled out onto the floor, tiny little crescent moons, bouncing off in various directions. A lump formed in Ariana's throat as she realized she was looking at fingernails. Perfect clippings of fingernails. She turned her hands over. Her expert manicure was gone.

  As her vision clouded, Ariana stumbled back and sat on her bed.

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  The box dropped, and out popped another folded slip of paper. Ariana could only imagine that it was another calendar--another countdown. Eight days left. She put her head between her knees and breathed.

  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  Out, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  In, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  Out, one. . . two. . . three. . .

  How had she done it? How had she managed to lift Arianas hands and cut her nails without waking her up? Arianas stomach heaved.

  She jumped up, dropping the box, and ran for the bathroom. As she retched over the toilet bowl, one thought kept repeating itself in her mind.

  She's going to kill me. First she's torturing me, and then she's going to kill me.

  Finally, Ariana lifted her head. She reached one shaking hand for the handle and flushed. Her butt on the cold ceramic floor, she drew the back of her hand across her mouth and hugged her knees to her chest.

  Out in the hallway, Brigit shouted, then Tahira screamed, and Ariana knew that I Caitlynn had hit the others again, just for good measure. But little did they know that all of this was for Arianas benefit. All of it engineered to remind her just how crazy and capable Kaitlynn was.

  This week had gotten away from her what with class and the Allison plan and the Lexa and Conrad thing and everything else. But she couldn't put off safeguarding herself any longer.

  It was time to take action.

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  INSURANCE

  That morning, Ariana did the unthinkable: She skipped English class. As her cab pulled up to the covered front doorway of Wolcott Hall, she felt as if she was being watched. As if at any moment Headmaster Jansen was going to jump out from behind a potted plant and slap her with some kind of demerit. But it wasn't her fault. Circumstances were forcing her to break the rules. Right then, Kaitlynn was sequestered somewhere, taking her final placement test of the week, and it was the only time Ariana could be sure that the girl would not be able to follow her.She got into the back of the cab, swallowed back her guilt--induced nausea, and gave the driver the address she'd printed off the Internet.

  You're skippingfor a reason, she told herself. A very important reason. It's just one class and you can always get the notes from someone.

  From Conrad.

  Her skin tingled as the idea occurred to her. It was perfect, actually

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  She could use her transgression as an excuse for throwing Conrad and Lexa together again. She might have been committing a crime against academia, but at least she could make something good come out of it. The thought comforted her, eased her racing pulse, and she sat back against the vinyl seat, feeling much more relaxed.

  Twenty minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of stately white columns of the First American Bank. Ariana paid the driver, got out of the car, and walked purposefully up the stone stairs. The guard at the door eyed her disinterestedly as she strolled past the tellers and right up to the information desk. The elderly gentleman behind the counter looked up at her and smiled. His teeth were yellow, but his white hair was perfectly coiffed and his brown eyes alert. His burgundy wing tips, Ariana noted, were freshly buffed, and his gold name tag read Bernard.

  "Can I help you?"

  "Yes. I'd like to rent a safety--deposit box," Ariana said confidently. Sometimes older men saw a teenage girl and refused to take her seriously. Ariana found that an authoritative tone could often preclude a lot of patronizing talk.

  "I can assist you with that," he said. He opened a slim drawer and pulled out a white card. "You'll need to fill this out and sign at the bottom, and then I'll just need to see an ID."

  Ariana quickly filled out the card with all her information and signed Briana Leigh's name at the bottom. She placed the pen down and removed her Texas driver's license from her wallet. Bernard slipped the card from the counter to inspect it and held the license up against the signature. Ariana snapped her bag closed and waited.

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  And waited. And waited. The man stared at the signatures, looked up at Ariana's face, narrowed his eyes. Ariana's heart started to pound.

  She told herself to relax. The man was just doing his job, that was all. It was Ariana in the picture. Ariana's Briana Leigh signature on both documents. There was no reason for him to suspect anything.

  Then Bernard reached for the phone on his desk. Ariana stopped breathing. He was calling security. Ariana surreptitiously looked over her shoulder at the door, wondering how fast the security guard could possibly be. Wondering if she was faster.

  Bernard picked up his glasses, which were resting on the counter next to the phone, and slipped them on.

  "I apologize," he said with a chuckle. "I keep telling myself I don't need them, but obviously I do."

  Ariana let out a breath, relief flooding her body like a cool drink. Bernard was simply blind as a bat. Seconds later he handed back her ID and got up from his stool.

  "This way, Miss Covington."

  Her knees trembled--a lingering side effect of the abject fear--as she followed him across the gleaming red stone floor and into a small room outside the deposit box area.

  "Wait here, please."

  She did as she was told, falling into the wooden chair at the tiny counter with relief.

  "All right, you'll have box number 167," Bernard said, returning with a long silver tray covered by a sliding top. "Here are your keys."

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  He placed two bronze keys on the desk in front of her with a clang. "You can place your items inside, and when you're finished, use that phone to signal me," he said, pointing at an old--fashioned white phone on the wall. "We'll go in and replace the box and lock it together."

  "Understood," Ariana said with a nod.

  "Take your time."

  Bernard smiled and left her alone. Ariana took a deep breath and removed the items she needed from her bag. One piece of thick parchment paper, one Cross pen, one envelope. Glancing over her shoulder to ensure she was completely alone, Ariana got to work. In her own hand, she wrote out a brief version of her story. How she'd broken out of the Brenda T. How she'd murdered Briana Leigh Covington to assume her identity and to provide the authorities with a body to cremate in her place. How Kaitlynn had been released at her bidding as well. And how, if someone was reading this, it meant she was dead. And if she was dead, Kaitlynn had murdered her. She provided details of Kaitlynn's whereabouts, of her new name, of the one other fake name she had used since escaping. She then slipped a photo from her purse, one she had taken with her phone and printed out that morning. A photo of Kaitlynn sleeping in her bed so that anyone who read this note would know what Kaitlynn looked like today. Different hair, different name, different style--same sociopath. She signed the letter with a name she hadn't used in months.

  Sincerely:

  Ariana Osgood

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  She folded the letter, placed it in the envelope along with the photo, and sealed it. Then she summoned Bernard. Together they replaced the box among the hundreds of others inside the cold, airy vault. Ariana used her key to lock her lock, then Bernard used the bank's key to lock the second.

  There it was. Her life's secret. Hidden in a nondescript row of nondescript boxes in the middle of one of thousands of banks in the Washington, D.C., area. Safe. Until she was dead.

  "No one will be able to open this box without both keys," Bernard explained. "Is
there anything else I can do for you, Miss Covington?"

  "No, thank you," Ariana replied, slipping her two copies of her key into her bag. She was surprised to find her fingers were trembling and took a breath to steady herself. "I appreciate all your help."

  "Of course," he said as he led her out of the room and secured the vault door behind them. "Have a nice day, Miss Covington."

  Oh, I will, Ariana thought as she traipsed out of the bank and hailed another cab, this time bound for the nearest upscale salon. Why not indulge in a new haircut? It was time to celebrate. She had just bought her life insurance plan. If Kaitlynn hurt her, she wouldn't get away with it. Now all she had to do was send the extra key to Briana Leigh's trusted personal maid in Texas, with the instructions to go and open the box and read the letter if anything should happen to Briana Leigh. And tell Kaitlynn what she'd done, of course. That was the point of all this--to let Kaitlynn know that if Ariana died, Kaitlynn was sure to be arrested.

  It was the perfect plan. Nothing could harm her now.

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  UP IN SMOKE

  Kaitlynn hummed Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake as she got ready for bed that evening, spreading moisturizer over her arms and legs, filing her nails, combing her hair. Ariana sat on her bed with her phone, tossed her now perfectly shaped, chin--length hair, and texted Conrad.Borrow ur English notes?

  The reply was instant.

  sure meet tmrw?

  Ariana grinned and texted back.

  After bkfst @ pond?

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  Conrad replied with one word.

  Done

  Ariana slipped her phone back into her bag and got up to turn down her bed, feeling satisfied. It was all about taking one thing at a time, planning, plotting, staying positive.

  "What are you so happy about, A?" Kaitlynn asked.

  Just the sound of the girl's voice put a damper on Ariana's triumph. Suddenly all she could think about was what Kaitlynn was planning for that night. Was she going to double--pierce Ariana's ears? Pull out all her eyelashes? Every muscle in her body tensed at the thought of someone else trying to control her emotions, her life, her fate.

  "Well, Lillian," Ariana began, turning to face her nemesis. It was time to regain control. "There's something I've been meaning to tell you.

  "Oh, yeah?" Kaitlynn asked, perching on the edge of her bed.

  "I've taken out a safety--deposit box," Ariana said. Kaitlynn's eyebrows arched with interest. "In it is a letter describing every single thing you and I have been through stating that if anything should happen to me, you're the one who did it. I've sent the key to someone I trust, along with a letter telling that person where the box is and to open it if I turn up dead."

  Kaitlynn blinked. She betrayed not one iota of emotion. She simply blinked.

  "So you can threaten me all you want, but you don't scare

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  me," Ariana continued. "If I die, you're getting the chair. Are we clear?"

  Kaitlynn started to hum again. She got up, walked into her closet, and rummaged around. Ariana held her breath. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. What was Kaitlynn doing? Looking for some kind of weapon? Did she have a gun in there or something? Hadn't she heard a word Ariana had just said? Quickly, Ariana glanced around for something with which to defend herself. Her eyes fell on her tennis racket. It was all she had. She was just lunging for it when Kaitlynn emerged with a long, cream--colored envelope.

  "You mean this letter?" she asked, tossing it on Ariana's bed.

  Ariana's pulse froze in her veins. Both the letter and the picture of Kaitlynn had slipped free of the torn envelope when they'd hit her bedspread. This was not possible.

  "How . . . how did you . . . ?"

  "I followed you, Ariana," Kaitlynn said flatly. "When I saw you get into that cab instead of scurrying off to class like the responsible little student you are, I knew something was up, so I followed you. After I figured out what you were doing at the bank, I followed you to the salon and lifted your key and ID while you were getting shampooed."

  Ariana grabbed her bag from her desk chair and yanked out her wallet. Sure enough, the key and her license were gone. How could she not have noticed it before?

  "Then I went back to the bank, waited for that geezer to get off duty, forged Briana Leigh's signature, and emptied the box."

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  "But didn't they . . . you don't look anything like my picture," Ariana said breathlessly.

  "The guy barely even glanced at it. I had the key and the signature. Besides, he was too busy checking out my ass."

  She removed Ariana's license from her top dresser drawer and Frisbeed it at Ariana. It fell to the floor at their feet. Ariana could think of nothing to say. Once again, Kaitlynn had won.

  "Thanks a lot, Ariana," Kaitlynn continued. "Because of you I have to spend my Saturday afternoon taking the final placement exam I missed. You're really screwing me up around here, you know that?"

  No, you're screwing me up and we both know it, Ariana thought.

  Kaitlynn took a deep breath and blew out a sigh. "It was a nice try," she said, grabbing up the envelope, along with its former contents. "But I think I'd better burn this now, don't you?"

  With a tilt of her head, Kaitlynn turned, walked into the bathroom, and slammed the door behind her. Ariana heard the strike of the match, but didn't wait to smell the smoke. Feeling numb, she grabbed a pillow off her bed, slipped the comforter free, and walked out the door with them. If she stayed in her own room any longer, she knew the sense of helplessness hovering just outside her protective wall would come smashing through and take over. And she could not have that. Could not give up. There was too much at stake. Down the hall she knocked on Lexa and Maria's door. Maria answered, her hair up in a messy bun, her toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. Her cropped black T--shirt exposed one tanned strip of perfectly flat stomach.

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  "She's on the phone with Conrad," Maria whispered conspiratori--ally, gesturing over her shoulder at Lexa.

  Ariana forced a smile. "That's great. Listen, can I sleep in your lounge tonight?"

  "Sure," Maria said, opening the door wide. "What's up? Problems with Lily?"

  A lump formed in Ariana's throat. How she wished she could tell the truth, confide in her friend, pour it all out to her. But it was all going to have to stay bottled up in her chest, churning and bubbling and threatening to explode in the form of desperate tears.

  Why couldn't she get anything right lately? Why did it seem as if Kaitlynn was always one step ahead?

  "No. She has some allergy issues and she's been snoring a lot. After a whole week of listening to it, I just want one good nights sleep," Ariana said.

  "I hear ya. Lexa snores too," Maria said.

  "I do not!" Lexa cried from her bed. She gave Ariana a wave and went back to her conversation.

  "Want to hang out? We were going to watch Real Housewives on my laptop till lights--out," Maria offered, going back into the bathroom to rinse her mouth.

  "No, thanks. I'm exhausted," Ariana said. "I'm just going to crash."

  "Okay. G'night!" Maria said as Ariana opened the door to the lounge.

  She dropped her pillow on the couch and settled in for what was

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  sure to be an uncomfortable night's sleep. But it had to be better than sleeping next to Kaitlynn, listening to her laugh in her sleep, flinching at her every move. At least here she could concentrate on trying to plot her next move.

  Even though she was sure that whatever she came up with, Kaitlynn was going to think of it first.

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  OUT OF CONTROL

  "Oh my God! What the hell!?"Ariana's eyes wrenched open and she sat up straight, her heart pounding in her throat. In the next room, Lexa was shouting at the top of her lungs. For a moment, Ariana clung to her comforter, trying to remember why she was on Maria and Lexa's couch. Then Maria screeched as if she'd just stepped on a rat.

  Out of the corner of
her eye Ariana spotted it. Another pink velvet ring box, sitting on the coffee table.

  Ariana grabbed the box and pried it open: Out dropped two red crescent moons. She flung the comforter aside and checked her feet. Sure enough her big toenails had been cut to the quick. At that moment, Maria and Lexa burst into the room.

  "She has one too!" Maria cried, rushing to Ariana's side, her half--fallen bun bouncing around atop her head. She looked down at the toenails on the floor and then jumped up on the couch behind Ariana

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  as if she were afraid they were going to bite. "Omigod, omigod. Who would do this?" she cried, hugging herself.

  Ariana glanced at Maria's toes, which were all gnarly and blistered from being shoved into her pointe shoes every day of her life. Just like Ariana's, her big toenails were freshly shorn.

  "You know what, girls? I think I've finally figured it out," Lexa said calmly, placing her own empty box on the bookshelf near the door. She crossed her arms over her red silk pajama top.

  "You have?"

  Ariana's throat constricted so quickly it hurt. She clutched the pink box in both hands. If either Maria or Lexa decided to inspect it more closely, they were sure to find the countdown calendar that was certain to be tucked inside.

  Seven more days . . .

  "Omigod! You guys have them, too?" Kaitlynn appeared in the doorway, holding a pink box in her hands. Ariana's face burned with anger at the very sight of her. She, Lexa, and Maria all looked down at Kaitlynn's feet, where her big toenails had been jaggedly clipped.

  All the better to throw them off her scent. Brilliant.

  Ariana took a deep breath. "Lexa was just about to tell us who she thinks is doing this." She turned the pink box over and over in her hands, hating that she had to act as Kaitlynn's accomplice, even as she was one of her victims.

  "Who?" Kaitlynn didn't miss a beat. She walked in and sat down on the couch, looking up at Lexa like a lost child. Maria perched on the armrest.

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  "Well, by now I'm sure you all know there are a few secret societies here at Atherton--Pryce," Lexa began.

  She gave Ariana a no--nonsense look and Ariana got her meaning immediately. She wasn't to mention the fact that Lexa had told her about the secret societies during Welcome Week. It was such an odd game they were all playing. If Maria and Lexa were both in Stone and Grave, as Ariana suspected, they both knew she and Kaitlynn had already been tapped. Yet none of them was allowed to acknowledge what they knew about the others.