Good Girl, Bad Blood

Nat’s scream never left her. She could feel it there, slinking around beneath her skin. Feel it simmering as she walked into her history lesson eighteen minutes late and Mr Clark said, ‘Ah, Pip. What time do you call this? Do you think your time is more valuable than mine?’

And she’d replied, ‘No, sir, sorry sir,’ quietly, when really all she wanted to do was let the scream out, tell him that yes, it probably was. She’d taken her place next to Connor at the back, her grip tightening on her pen until it snapped, pieces of plastic scattering between her fingers.

The lunch bell rang and they followed it out of the room, she and Connor. He’d heard about the verdict from Cara because Ravi had texted her, worrying when he hadn’t heard back from Pip. ‘I’m sorry,’ was all Connor said as they traipsed towards the cafeteria. That’s all he could say, all Pip could say too, but there was no amount of sorrys that could ever fix this.

They found the others at their usual lunch table, and Pip slotted in beside Cara, squeezing her hand once in greeting.

‘Have you told Naomi?’ Pip asked her.

Cara nodded. ‘She’s devastated, can’t believe it.’

‘Yeah, that sucks,’ Ant said loudly, cutting in as he tore into his second sandwich.

Pip turned to him. ‘And where were you yesterday, during the search party?’

Ant rearranged his eyebrows, looking affronted as he swallowed. ‘It was Wednesday, I was at football,’ he said, not even looking at Connor.

‘Lauren?’ Pip said.

‘Wh . . . my mum made me stay in to do French revision.’ Her voice was high and defensive. ‘I didn’t realize you expected us all to be there.’

‘Your best friend’s brother is missing,’ Pip said, and she felt Connor tensing beside her.

‘Yeah, I get that.’ Ant flashed a quick smile at Connor. ‘And I’m sorry, but I don’t think Lauren or I are going to change that.’

Pip wanted to carry on picking at them, keep feeding the scream under her skin, but she was distracted by someone behind Ant, her eyes pulling her up. Tom Nowak, loudly laughing with a table of his friends.

‘Excuse me,’ Pip said, though she was already gone, skirting around their table and across the loud chaos of the cafeteria.

‘Tom,’ she said, and then again, louder than their guffawing.

Tom put down his open bottle of Coke, twisting to look up at her. Pip noticed some of his friends on the opposite bench, whispering and elbowing each other.

‘Hey, what’s up?’ he said, his cheeks indented with a laid back smile, and Pip’s rage flared at the sight of it.

‘You lied to me, didn’t you?’ she said, but it wasn’t a question and she didn’t wait for an answer. At least he’d surrendered his fake smile now. ‘You didn’t see Jamie Reynolds on Friday night. I doubt you were anywhere near Cross Lane. You said that road because it was near the site of the calamity party, and then the rest was on me. I accidentally led the witness. You saw my reactions to that road name, to the colour of the front door, and you used those to manipulate me. Made me believe in a narrative that never even happened!’

People were watching now from nearby tables, a wave of half turned heads and the prickle of unseen eyes.

‘Jamie didn’t go to Nat da Silva’s house that night and you were never a witness. You’re a liar.’ Her lip curled up, baring her teeth at him. ‘Well, well done, good job Tom, you got yourself on the podcast. What were you hoping to achieve with that?’

Tom stuttered, raising his finger as he scrambled for words.

‘Internet fame, is that it?’ Pip spat. ‘You got a SoundCloud you want to promote or something? What the fuck is wrong with you? Someone is missing. Jamie’s life is at stake, and you decide to waste my time.’

‘I didn’t –’

‘You’re pathetic,’ she said. ‘And guess what? You already signed my consent form to use your name and likeness, so this will also be going on the podcast. Good luck being universally hated by the entire internet.’

‘No, you’re not allowed to –’ Tom began.

But the rage took hold of Pip’s hand, guiding it as she reached over to snatch Tom’s open bottle of Coke. And without a second thought – without even a first thought – Pip upturned the bottle over his head.

A cascade of fizzing brown liquid fell over him, soaking into his hair and over his face, eyes screwed shut against it. There were gasps around the room, titters of laughter, but it was a few seconds before Tom himself could react through the shock.

‘You bitch!’ He stood up, hands to his eyes to clear them.

‘Don’t fucking cross me again,’ Pip said, dropping the empty bottle at Tom’s feet with a clatter that echoed around the now almost-quiet room.

She walked away, flicking droplets of Coke from her hand, a hundred eyes following as she went, but none of them, not any of them, would meet hers.

Cara was waiting for her by the usual spot, at the double doors near their English classroom, the second last lesson of the day. But as Pip crossed the corridor towards her, she noticed something: a quieting of voices as she passed, people gathering to talk behind their hands, looking her way. Well, they couldn’t all have been in the cafeteria at lunch. And anyway, Pip didn’t care what they thought. Tom Nowak was the one who should be walking through whispers, not her.

‘Hey,’ she said, arriving at Cara’s side.

‘Hey, um . . .’ But Cara was acting strangely too, scrunching her mouth in that way she did when something was wrong. ‘Have you seen it yet?’

‘Seen what?’

‘The WiredRip article.’ Cara glanced down at the phone in her hand. ‘Someone linked to it on the Facebook event you made for Jamie.’

‘No,’ Pip said. ‘Why, what does it say?’

‘Um, it . . .’ Cara trailed off. She looked down, thumbs tapping away at her phone and then she held it out on her open hand, offering it to Pip. ‘I think you should just read it.’

A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder made an explosive return to our ears this week, with the first episode of a new mystery released on Tuesday. Jamie Reynolds, 24, has gone missing from host Pip Fitz-Amobi’s hometown. The police won’t look for him, so Pip has stepped up to the plate, uploading episodes during the course of her investigation.

But is there a real reason the police aren’t looking for Jamie?

A source close to Pip has told us, exclusively, that this entire season of the podcast is, in fact, a set-up. Jamie Reynolds is the older brother of one of Pip’s closest friends, and our source says that Jamie’s disappearance has been plotted by the three of them together, to create a thrilling new season for the podcast and capitalize on the popularity of the first. Jamie’s incentive in playing along with his own disappearance is financially motivated, with Pip promising the brothers a large pay-out once the season airs and she has secured new major sponsorship deals.

So, what do you think – is Jamie Reynolds even missing at all? Are we being duped by the teen queen of True Crime? Let us know your thoughts in the comments below.