Cutting Up The Competition (Horror High #2) by Carissa Ann Lynch Page B
Authors: Carissa Ann Lynch
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nostalgic type. Or the type who spend much time living inside this house,” Winter said.
By the time we made it back to my house, it was nearly four in the morning. We had to get up and go to school—unless it got called off again.
Dakota snuck back home, while Winter and I creeped up the creaky staircase, trying our best not to wake up my mom or grandma.
We collapsed on my bed, falling asleep instantly and not even bothering with setting the alarm.
***
I didn’t open my eyes until nearly eleven in the morning. Thinking I was late, I crept downstairs, my eyes still adjusting for the day. I felt like I had a hangover, from lack of sleep and the stress of everything. Had we really gone to Sydney’s house last night? In retrospect, it seemed so foolish.
My mom wasn’t home, but Grandma Mimi was humming and knitting in the living room. I’d never seen her sew or knit before. It seemed almost too grandmotherly of an activity for her…
“I’m incredibly late for school,” I croaked, my voice strained and raspy from lack of sleep.
“It got called off again. The police are treating it like a crime scene again, trying to get some prints off of that box with the tongue in it,” Grandma said.
“Was it on the news?” I asked, staring at the turned off television in the corner.
“Yep. I needed a break from it all.” Grandma Mimi kept knitting, resuming her humming as I went upstairs to wake up Winter.
“I better head home. I left a note last night, but I’m sure my mom will be pissed that I left without waking her up. Thanks for letting me stay. And, Amanda? I’m sorry we didn’t find anything to help Sydney. I didn’t know her well— don’t know her well—but she seemed very smart and kind.” Winter gave me a sad, sorry look.
I nodded, pursing my lips.
After Winter left, I seriously considered climbing back in bed. To hell with this day , I thought, sitting on the edge of the bed and twisting the covers in my fists.
I felt like I needed to be doing something, anything , to help my missing friend.
Pulling out my cell phone, I was surprised to see a new message in my inbox from someone on Facebook. Quickly opening it, I was happy to see Sydney’s Grandma Rose has responded.
Rose: I’m so sorry about your friend, hun. I have lots of friends on FB, but I don’t know most of them personally. Sydney seems like a sweet young girl, but she is not my granddaughter. Maybe in another life she would be, you never know. Good luck finding your friend, sweetheart. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know and I will.
I stared at her response in shock. Clicking on her profile pic, I felt certain she was the same woman in the framed photograph on Sydney’s dresser.
The hair on my arms stood up and I shivered, gripping the blankets around me for warmth.
Why would Sydney lie about having a grandmother named Rose? Furthermore, why in the world would she put a stranger’s picture in a frame and call the stranger her grandmother?
Chapter
Thirty-Three
According to Grandma Mimi, my mom was out looking for a job. Job hunting for so long seemed unlikely, and by the time six o’clock rolled around, I was certain she was never coming back again.
It wouldn’t be the first time she said she was going somewhere and then didn’t show up again for several months.
I baked cookies to distract myself, kneading the dough with a vengeance and angrily cutting out heart shaped pieces from the flattened dough.
But then the gooey little white pieces reminded me of Genevieve’s nose…
The news was on in the living room. When I heard a local correspondent say the words, “breaking news,” I set down the knife and joined Grandma Mimi on the couch.
“After much investigation, a source in the Harrow Hill police department confirmed what we’ve all suspected. Genevieve McDermott was murdered. A blow to the back of the head is what killed her. All other
By the time we made it back to my house, it was nearly four in the morning. We had to get up and go to school—unless it got called off again.
Dakota snuck back home, while Winter and I creeped up the creaky staircase, trying our best not to wake up my mom or grandma.
We collapsed on my bed, falling asleep instantly and not even bothering with setting the alarm.
***
I didn’t open my eyes until nearly eleven in the morning. Thinking I was late, I crept downstairs, my eyes still adjusting for the day. I felt like I had a hangover, from lack of sleep and the stress of everything. Had we really gone to Sydney’s house last night? In retrospect, it seemed so foolish.
My mom wasn’t home, but Grandma Mimi was humming and knitting in the living room. I’d never seen her sew or knit before. It seemed almost too grandmotherly of an activity for her…
“I’m incredibly late for school,” I croaked, my voice strained and raspy from lack of sleep.
“It got called off again. The police are treating it like a crime scene again, trying to get some prints off of that box with the tongue in it,” Grandma said.
“Was it on the news?” I asked, staring at the turned off television in the corner.
“Yep. I needed a break from it all.” Grandma Mimi kept knitting, resuming her humming as I went upstairs to wake up Winter.
“I better head home. I left a note last night, but I’m sure my mom will be pissed that I left without waking her up. Thanks for letting me stay. And, Amanda? I’m sorry we didn’t find anything to help Sydney. I didn’t know her well— don’t know her well—but she seemed very smart and kind.” Winter gave me a sad, sorry look.
I nodded, pursing my lips.
After Winter left, I seriously considered climbing back in bed. To hell with this day , I thought, sitting on the edge of the bed and twisting the covers in my fists.
I felt like I needed to be doing something, anything , to help my missing friend.
Pulling out my cell phone, I was surprised to see a new message in my inbox from someone on Facebook. Quickly opening it, I was happy to see Sydney’s Grandma Rose has responded.
Rose: I’m so sorry about your friend, hun. I have lots of friends on FB, but I don’t know most of them personally. Sydney seems like a sweet young girl, but she is not my granddaughter. Maybe in another life she would be, you never know. Good luck finding your friend, sweetheart. If there’s any way I can help, please let me know and I will.
I stared at her response in shock. Clicking on her profile pic, I felt certain she was the same woman in the framed photograph on Sydney’s dresser.
The hair on my arms stood up and I shivered, gripping the blankets around me for warmth.
Why would Sydney lie about having a grandmother named Rose? Furthermore, why in the world would she put a stranger’s picture in a frame and call the stranger her grandmother?
Chapter
Thirty-Three
According to Grandma Mimi, my mom was out looking for a job. Job hunting for so long seemed unlikely, and by the time six o’clock rolled around, I was certain she was never coming back again.
It wouldn’t be the first time she said she was going somewhere and then didn’t show up again for several months.
I baked cookies to distract myself, kneading the dough with a vengeance and angrily cutting out heart shaped pieces from the flattened dough.
But then the gooey little white pieces reminded me of Genevieve’s nose…
The news was on in the living room. When I heard a local correspondent say the words, “breaking news,” I set down the knife and joined Grandma Mimi on the couch.
“After much investigation, a source in the Harrow Hill police department confirmed what we’ve all suspected. Genevieve McDermott was murdered. A blow to the back of the head is what killed her. All other
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