Get Even (Don’t Get Mad)

LOGAN’S VOICE SOUNDED FARAWAY AS HE RECITED THE OPENING of act 2, scene 4.

“Now, good Cesario,” he said. “But that piece of song, that old and antique song we heard last night.”

“The song” made Margot think of the Bangers and Mosh concert, which made her think of Coach Creed’s murder, of Ed the Head and his skeptical attitude toward Logan, of Olivia and how all of Margot’s illusions about their friendship had been shattered in one horrid moment.

“Hey,” Logan said, placing a hand on her knee. “Are you even listening?”

Margot shook herself, discarding the anger. “Where were you?”

“Never mind.” Logan squeezed her knee through her jeans. “I think I’m good enough.”

Margot sighed. “I’m sorry. I was—”

“Reliving Sunday night?”

“Yes.”

“Look, I’ll make it up to you,” Logan said quickly, misinterpreting her mood.

This guy could be anyone. Ed the Head’s words lingered in her mind.

“Another date,” Logan added. “A better date. One without dead bodies.”

Margot smiled, despite herself. Coach Creed’s death was far from hilarious, but the way Logan was trying to cheer her up made her smile. Like it was his fault someone had been murdered outside the club that night.

“You don’t have to,” she said, feeling guilty about even suspecting Logan might be involved in the murders. “Take me out again, I mean.”

Logan tossed the hair out of his face and leaned closer. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He pecked her quickly on the cheek. “I have to be onstage in five. See you at the break?”

Margot was still smiling after he disappeared from the office.

It didn’t last long. “Hey, Margot.”

Bree leaned against the door frame.

“I have a coaching in five minutes,” Margot said coldly.

“Good, then you have four minutes to talk.” Bree stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Did you get an envelope last night?”

“Turn yourselves in or else,” Margot recited. “You have until opening night.”

“We need to do something.”

Margot shook her head. “What are you talking about?”

“This murderer, whoever it is, is controlling us. Dictating our actions. He sends us anonymous clues, and we all react. And so far we’ve been taking it because we were more concerned with keeping our secrets. News flash, this guy already knows our secrets. In fact, he knows things about us no one is supposed to know. Secrets time is over.”

Margot stared at a giant promo poster for Chicago box-framed on Mr. Cunningham’s wall. Bree had a point, however crudely made.

Margot tilted her head to the side. “Where do we start?”

“Why are you calling me?” Kitty snapped before the first ring had been completed. “We have a strict rule against contact by phone.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bree said. Why was Kitty so paranoid? They had bigger things to deal with. “Did you get another envelope last night?”

“Obviously,” Kitty said. Bree had never heard her so irritated. Kitty was usually the calm one.

“Okay,” Bree said, leading her toward what should have been a logical conclusion. “Don’t you think we need to talk about it?”

Kitty sighed, a loud, audible grumbling kind of exhale that was meant to transmit annoyance. Message received.

“Margot and I,” Bree said quickly, hoping the implication that Margot was with her would capture Kitty’s attention, “we think it’s time to fight back.”

“We’ve been fighting, Bree. We’ve been fighting the system for two years, and where did it get us? Vilified, hunted, possibly framed for murder, and now targeted by a serial killer.”

“What do you want to do, then? Turn yourself in?”

Bree thought that might spur Kitty into action, but as she waited for Kitty to say something, the silence seemed to last an eternity.

Margot’s eyebrows pinched together as her lips silently formed the words “what’s going on?”

“The most likely answer,” Kitty said at last, “is that one of us is behind the envelopes.”

“And the murders,” Bree said. “That’s what you’re saying, Kitty. You’re saying one of us is a killer.”

Again, silence.

So much for their fearless leader. Bree couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice. “I guess we’re on our own, then.”

“Bree,” Kitty said.

“Yeah?”

“Be careful.”

Bree clicked off her phone and shoved it back into her pocket. “Kitty’s out,” she said simply.

“So I gathered.”

“You going to bail too?”

She firmly expected Margot to drop out. She’d taken the hardest hit in the last week, reliving the pain of a seventh-grade humiliation so horrific it had driven her to attempt suicide. It made sense if Margot wanted out, and of all of them, Bree wouldn’t have blamed her for ejecting.

“Logan,” Margot said quietly. “Rex and Amber, Theo, Christopher Beeman, or . . .” She paused and glanced up at Bree.

“Or John,” she said. She needed to be open about the possibility, even if she refused to believe he was a suspect.

“Or John,” Margot repeated. “Whoever it is, we need to stop them before they kill anyone else.”

A wry half smile crept across the right side of Bree’s face. She could have hugged Margot. “It’ll be hard with just the two of us.”

“We’ll need help.”

“Yeah? You got someone in mind?”

Margot nodded. “Meet me in the computer lab at lunch tomorrow.”