The Pretty Ones by Ania Ahlborn

passed through the kitchen, only to pause and give her sibling a good, long look.
    â€œI know it was you, Barrett,” she said. “The dirt in her mouth?” She snorted, turned away from him, not wanting to see the smirk she knew would eventually settle across his lips. “Nice touch,” she murmured. “You may as well have shoved a cupcake down her throat with my name on it.” That was overdramatic. She knew there was no way anyone could have put together the fact that Nell had anything to do with Linnie’s death. After all, she didn’t , did she? Nell wasn’t her brother’s keeper. “And what if the police had come? What if they had asked me questions?”
    Then you would have lied ,Barrett scribbled.
    That word made Nell tense. NELL SULLIVAN IS A LIAR. It was bad enough that someone had typed it onto her transcript, ruining her work, insulting her in the process. But now Barrett was going to join in?
    â€œBecause that’s all I’m good at?” she demanded.
    Barrett looked unconcerned by his sister’s increasing agitation. Well, he wrote, you ARE good at it.
    â€œOh, fuck you, Barrett!” she yelled. But rather than shocking him with her outburst, Barrett laughed instead. Nell jerked at the sleeves of her sweater, yanked it off, and threw it to the floor. The shirt she’d worn beneath it throughout the day was soaked at the armpits. She could feel a distinct line of moisture along the length of her spine. “Anyway.” She turned her back to him, trying to play it cool. “I suppose you did me a favor, if you think about it.” Glancing over her shoulder, she took in his new expression—a look of sour dissatisfaction. “That’s right,” she said. “Because when I got to the office this morning, all the girls already knew about Linnie. She was front page news. They’re blaming the Son of Sam.”
    Barrett’s perturbed look shifted into amusement. He liked that. Perhaps he had known the police were going to point the finger at Mr. Monster rather than look for another killer all along. Because really, what were the odds?
    See? he wrote. No big deal.
    â€œNo big deal?” Nell narrowed her eyes at him. “As soon as I heard about Linnie, I lost it.”
    Barrett arched an eyebrow at her in inquiry. Lost it?
    â€œYou could have told me beforehand, don’t you think? You could have at least warned me to prepare myself. But you let me learn about it for myself ! I kept picturing the police taking you away, and then who would I have left?” She was nearly yelling now. “Did you ever think of that? Did you ever stop to consider what would happen to me if you end up spending the rest of your life in prison?”
    Barrett looked down, as if mulling that over. No, of course he hadn’t considered it. But now that Nell had brought it to his attention, he looked shameful. Guilty. Nell frowned at the way his shoulders deflated. He looked undignified, and it made her feel like a wretch for disgracing him. All he’d been doing was defending her honor.
    Barrett held up his notepad once more. Keep your voice down. The walls were thin. How ironic would it have been if Nell’s freak-out was what brought the cops calling?
    She sighed, took a seat at the kitchen table. “You had to kill her?” she asked, her tone low.
    Research, he wrote. Wanted to see how it felt.
    â€œFor your book?” she asked.
    Barrett shrugged.
    â€œI’m not angry, Barrett,” she told him, suddenly tired from all the arguing. “You did it for me. You did it because she had been improper, unappreciative. That type of behavior has its consequences, right? Sometimes, if you’re rude to the wrong person, you get a taste of your own medicine.”
    Barrett raised his eyes to meet his sister’s. She gave him a small smile, assuring him that she really wasn’t mad. “Besides, what started out