All-Night Party Read online

  Gretchen watched as his eyes moved across the handwritten words.

  When he reached the bottom, his mouth dropped open.

  “I don’t believe it!” he cried.

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  “It’s phony! A complete phony!” Patrick declared.

  “How can you say that?” Gretchen asked him. “I’ve seen Cindy’s handwriting hundreds of times. So have the rest of us.”

  “But it isn’t Cindy’s handwriting,” Patrick insisted.

  “It looks like her handwriting to me,” Gretchen replied.

  “Sure, if you look at it quickly. But you missed something,” Patrick said heatedly. “Something that proves Cindy didn’t write it.”

  “What?” Gretchen demanded.

  “Cindy always dotted the ‘i’ in her name with a heart. Don’t you remember?” Patrick reminded her. “Look at her signature. It doesn’t have a heart!”

  Gretchen flipped the note over and studied the handwriting. Instantly, she saw what she had missed earlier. No heart.

  “He’s right,” she said. “The ‘i’ isn’t dotted with a heart. And Cindy always did that.”

  “Let me see it,” Hannah declared, walking into the room. “I was Cindy’s best friend. I would know her handwriting better than any of you.”

  Hannah snatched the note out of Gretchen’s hand. Her eyes traveled over it, and then she returned it.

  “That’s Cindy’s handwriting,” she said firmly. “Even if the heart is missing. It doesn’t matter.”

  “But Cindy always used a heart,” Patrick repeated. “She never forgot it.”

  Gil sighed. “He’s right.”

  “Cindy and I didn’t have any secret,” Patrick insisted. “Whoever wrote this note was trying to frame me. But they messed up by forgetting to use a heart.”

  Gretchen passed the note to the others. Now no one was sure if it was Cindy’s handwriting or not.

  “Why don’t we look in Cindy’s bag?” Gil suggested. “Maybe she has something with her handwriting on it.”

  “Good idea,” Gretchen agreed. “That way we’ll know for sure if she wrote the note.”

  They hurried into the front room.

  “There it is!” Gretchen cried, spotting it under the couch where it had fallen.

  Sitting on the couch, Gretchen pulled the black bag onto her lap and began emptying it out.

  There wasn’t much inside. Lip gloss. Eye shadow. A pack of chewing gum. House keys. A compact. Hairbrush. Sunglasses.

  “Is that all?” Marco asked.

  Gretchen scraped the bottom of the bag and brushed across a few scraps of paper. She grabbed them and pulled them out.

  “These might have something written on them,” she announced excitedly.

  She unfolded the pages slowly as the others gathered around her. She looked down at the pages, her pulse racing as she tried to figure out what was written on them.

  “They’re notes,” she murmured, scanning a list of names, dates, and places. “Notes from history class.”

  “Let’s compare it to the note we found,” Jackson urged.

  Gretchen pulled out the note to Patrick. She placed it on top of the coffee table next to Cindy’s history notes.

  The handwriting looked identical.

  Gretchen’s eyes traveled back and forth between the two sheets of paper, searching for differences.

  She could see that Cindy’s history notes were written in a rushed, hurried style. But they were easy to read.

  The note from Patrick’s backpack looked neater. Gretchen had the feeling it had been written more carefully. The letters were crisper. More detailed.

  But it was still Cindy’s handwriting.

  Except for one small difference.

  “Take a look at the ‘y’s,” Gretchen pointed out.

  “What about them?” Hannah asked.

  “The ‘y’s in the note from Patrick’s backpack are different from the ‘y’s in Cindy’s notes,” Gretchen told them.

  She felt her heart pound as she spoke. “Cindy’s ‘y’s are loopy, but the ‘y’s in the note from Patrick’s backpack have squiggles.”

  Gretchen set down the notes. Her hand trembled. “You know what this means,” she said.

  Marco whistled softly. “Patrick is telling the truth. Someone is trying to frame him.”

  “But who?” Gretchen whispered. “Who?”

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  She stared at her friends. All wore stunned expressions on their faces.

  She thought she knew them—but did she? Could one of them have murdered Cindy?

  If they were wrong about Patrick, then the killer was still loose.

  A chill of fear swept down Gretchen’s back. She shook it away.

  I can’t allow myself to be afraid. If I’m frightened, I won’t be able to think clearly. I need to keep my wits, she told herself.

  Gretchen took a deep breath. She folded the two notes and slipped them into the front pocket of her jeans. “We’d better tell Patrick what we found,” she said.

  Gil led the way back to the kitchen.

  “Well?” Patrick asked. “Did you find anything in Cindy’s bag?”

  Gretchen nodded her head. “We did.”

  “And?”

  “You were right,” Gretchen told him. She pulled out the two notes and showed them to Patrick. “The note in your backpack was a fake.”

  “I told you!” Patrick exclaimed. “I told you I didn’t murder Cindy.”

  “Well, we had to make sure,” Gil grumbled.

  “Don’t you think we should untie him?” Gretchen asked.

  Marco and Jackson began loosening the ropes. They fell to the floor. Patrick jumped out of the chair, stretching his stiff limbs.

  “What do we do now?” Gretchen asked.

  “We need a game plan,” Patrick replied. “Why don’t we all head back into the living room? I can’t stand being in here with Cindy’s body.”

  “Wait a minute!” Gil cried.

  Gretchen spun to face Gil. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “Where’s Hannah?” Gil asked.

  Gretchen gazed around the kitchen.

  “Hannah?” Gretchen called. She ran out into the hallway. No Hannah. “Are you out here? Answer me!” She darted into the front room.

  Empty.

  Gretchen turned as the others rushed in behind her.

  “She’s not in here!” Gretchen cried.

  “I’ll check upstairs,” Marco said.

  “I’ll come with you,” Gil said. They ran to the stairs, calling Hannah’s name. Then they pounded up the short staircase two steps at a time.

  Patrick and Jackson both wore grim expressions. Neither said a word.

  “She’s not up here!” Gil called down from the second-floor landing. He and Marco came running back down.

  “Not upstairs,” Gil repeated breathlessly.

  Gretchen stared back at him. Unable to speak. Unable to move.

  The choked words escaped her throat. “Hannah has disappeared.”

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  “We’ve got to find her!” Gil cried.

  He turned and ran to the door.

  “Wait a second,” Marco said. He caught up with Gil and grabbed him.

  “We’ll go with you. Just wait,” Marco told him. “We need to think for a moment.”

  “Think about what? Hannah could be fighting for her life!” Gil cried.

  He swung his arm and shoved Marco hard. Marco stumbled back until he hit the wall.

  The others stared at Gil, stunned.

  I’ve never seen him explode like that, Gretchen thought.

  Gretchen hurried to get her jacket. She wanted to go out and look for Hannah, too.

  On a small table by the coatrack, she saw a folded-up scrap of paper, propped against a lamp.

  “Look!” Gretchen cried, and pointed at the paper. “A note.”

  She snatched up the no
te and unfolded it.

  “What does it say?” Jackson asked.

  “Read it,” Gil urged.

  “It’s from Hannah,” Gretchen told them. She read the note aloud:

  I can’t stay here one more second with a killer.

  I’m too frightened.

  Gretchen dropped the note on the lamp table. She raced to the front door and yanked it open.

  Outside, on the muddy path leading away from the cabin, she saw footprints.

  Gretchen turned back to the others. “We have to go after her. She’s not safe all alone out there.”

  “She didn’t get much of a head start,” Marco declared. “We should be able to catch up with her.”

  “Hurry,” Gretchen urged. “It’s raining again. Pretty soon her footprints will be gone.”

  Patrick, Gil, and Marco pulled on their boots and ran out the front door. Gretchen slipped on her jacket, then hurried to the living room where she had left her boots.

  A jumble of thoughts raced through her mind. Frightening thoughts.

  Did Hannah really leave because she was frightened? she wondered.

  Or did she run away because she killed Cindy?

  Hannah and Cindy were always so competitive. And Hannah had really resented and disliked Cindy. For so many reasons.

  But enough reasons to kill her?

  Gretchen couldn’t believe she was thinking these things about her friend. Hannah wasn’t a killer.

  But Hannah had been so eager from the start to prove that Patrick was the killer.

  Was it because Hannah had planted the note in his backpack? Had she planted the bloody knife in his sleeping bag?

  Gretchen found her boots beside the fireplace where she’d left them to dry. As she tied up the laces, she felt someone watching her.

  She raised her eyes to find Jackson standing by the couch.

  Staring at her.

  His intense stare frightened her.

  She heard the front door slam. The others had hurried out.

  I’m all alone here with Jackson, she realized.

  Why was he staring at her like that?

  Why was he moving toward her so steadily?

  Why didn’t he say anything?

  Gretchen felt her throat tighten. She could barely breathe.

  Her eyes darted frantically around the living room, searching for anything she could use to defend herself.

  Her gaze fell upon the wood bin and the heavy pile of logs stacked inside.

  I could pick up a log and bash it over Jackson’s head if I have to, she thought.

  She took a step back.

  She wanted to put as much space between them as she could. And she wanted to get close enough to the wood bin to grab one of the logs.

  But each time she took a step back, he took one toward her.

  Jackson stared into her eyes.

  “I guess you suspect…” Jackson said.

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  Gretchen’s whole body shuddered.

  Was Jackson about to confess to her?

  “I’m going to catch up with the others,” she blurted out. She brushed past Jackson, trying not to act afraid.

  “Gretchen—wait!” Jackson called. “Please—let me finish.”

  “No. I—I have to go!”

  Gretchen sprinted through the kitchen and ran out the back door into the rainy night. Once outside, she followed the trail in the mud left by the others.

  Trotting hard, she turned—and saw Jackson chasing after her.

  Gretchen pushed herself to run faster. She had to catch up with the others.

  She’d be safe with them. Jackson wouldn’t be able to harm her.

  Her throat burned. Wet tree branches scratched her face. She raised her arms to protect herself.

  She felt her boots slip on wet leaves and mud. And she stumbled.

  She clung to a tree branch to catch her balance.

  She heard the rustle and snap of branches as Jackson came closer. Then she saw his tall figure, quickly closing the distance between them.

  She searched the dark woods frantically for the others, but she didn’t see them anywhere. She called out. But the wind was howling, drowning out the sound of her voice.

  No one knew she was in danger!

  She scrambled back onto the path and raced through the woods. Sharp branches snagged at her clothes. But she tore herself free.

  She spotted a clearing in the trees and ran toward it. At the end of the woods, she saw a hill ahead of her.

  Breathing heavily, she started climbing. The hill was steep, covered with jagged rocks and patches of ragged grass.

  She clutched the rocks for support as she clawed her way to the top. She heard her own breath coming in ragged gasps.

  The sharp rocks cut her hands, but she didn’t care. Jackson still came after her. She could hear his thudding footsteps below her on the steep hill.

  Up above, Gretchen saw the top of the hill. With an extra burst of speed, she raced for the top.

  Too fast.

  She slid on tall, wet grass.

  Slid and started to fall.

  Down, down the other side of the steep hill.

  Rolling now, rolling helplessly.

  Bouncing down the mud-slicked hillside like a rubber ball.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Finally, she slid to a stop. In a cold, muddy puddle.

  Gasping for breath, Gretchen sat up and pushed her wet hair out of her eyes.

  Glancing around, she tried to figure out where she’d landed. Where were the others?

  Slowly, she climbed to her feet. She took a step forward.

  Then stopped.

  She heard a shout.

  Gretchen spun around to scan the woods. Where did it come from?

  She heard it again.

  There! At the top of the hill.

  Gretchen raised her eyes.

  Jackson.

  At the top of the hill. He took a determined step toward her.

  Then he started to run.

  His hands shot up over his head. His mouth opened in a scream. A scream of attack.

  He barreled into her before she could move.

  They both toppled into the mud.

  With a loud groan, he pinned her beneath him.

  She couldn’t get away.

  He’s going to kill me! Gretchen realized.

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  Gretchen shut her eyes. “Get off!” she choked out.

  “I’m sorry,” Jackson apologized.

  Untangling himself, he scrambled to his feet. “I-I lost my footing. Are you okay?”

  Gretchen opened her eyes and stared up at him in shock.

  He doesn’t want to hurt me? she wondered.

  Jackson held out a hand, and she reached for it.

  Gretchen rose shakily and wiped her wet hair out of her eyes.

  “What is your problem? How come you ran away?” he demanded, breathing hard.

  “I was scared,” Gretchen confessed.

  “Scared? Of what?”

  “You,” Gretchen whispered. “I thought… I thought you were going to kill me.”

  Jackson’s eyes bulged in disbelief. “Huh? Why would you think something like that?”

  “Because you’re always staring at me! Watching me!” Gretchen cried.

  “I don’t mean to scare you,” Jackson said softly.

  “Well, you do,” Gretchen insisted. She took a deep breath. “Why are you always watching me?”

  “I just wanted to talk to you about… something.” He lowered his eyes.

  Gretchen felt totally confused. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

  “I wanted to tell you that… well… I like you,” Jackson admitted. “That’s what I was trying to tell you in the cabin. But you just took off. I guess it was a stupid time to try to tell you,” he added softly.

  Gretchen wasn’t sure if she had heard Jackson correctly. “Excuse me? Are you saying—”
r />   “I’ve really liked you for a long time. Since you came to Shadyside High,” Jackson blurted out. “But I’ve never been good at talking about stuff like that. By the time I finally worked up the courage to ask you out, you were seeing Marco.”

  “Why did you decide to tell me tonight?”

  “I heard you tell Cindy and Hannah that you didn’t want to see Marco anymore. So I thought, Cool, now I can tell her,” Jackson explained. “Then when Marco showed up here, I got angry. Then so many awful things started happening…”

  Jackson shook his head. “I wanted to stop being a wimp. And just tell you how I felt. I mean, in case anything happens to us.”

  Gretchen stared at him in disbelief.

  Jackson liked her?

  “Marco and I broke up tonight,” Gretchen said. She didn’t know why she wanted Jackson to know that bit of information, but she did.

  His face lit up. “Really? Um, does that mean maybe you and I—”

  “Why don’t we try to get through tonight first?” Gretchen sighed.

  He nodded.

  “We should find the others,” Gretchen suggested. She started back up the muddy hill.

  Jackson followed.

  Gretchen felt safer than she had since finding Cindy’s body. At least now there was one person she could trust.

  Jackson likes me, she thought. That’s so weird.

  Forcing thoughts of Jackson out of her mind, Gretchen concentrated on reaching the top of the hill. Because of the mud, they kept slipping and sliding. But soon she could see the top.

  As they neared it, Jackson held out his hand to help her up.

  Gretchen grasped it, holding tight as Jackson pulled her up.

  “We made it,” he said breathlessly.

  Gretchen turned toward Jackson, about to reply.

  But before she could get the words out, a scream of horror ripped through the night.

  “It’s Hannah!” Gretchen cried.

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  32

  Gretchen froze.

  The scream seemed to come from the cabin.

  She and Jackson raced in that direction.

  A second terror-filled scream cut through the night.

  Don’t let us be too late, Gretchen begged silently. Please—don’t let us be too late!