Easy Innocence

Chapter 8

CHAPTER EIGHT

THE BELL rang, signaling the end of the period. Lauren was startled—she’d been deep into a worksheet analyzing the characters of Willy Stark and Jack Burden. She gathered her books, hoisted her Prada bag over her shoulder, and headed out of the classroom. A throng of students pushed and crowded and shoved their way down the hall. Lauren skirted the edges, staying close to the rows of lockers. As she reached the end of the corridor, she spotted Claire and Heather waiting for her around the corner.

“What’s up?” She was irritated by their presence. She had things to do. But they all had a free period at the same time—they’d planned it that way last spring. With Sara.

“You want to go outside?” Heather Blakely, petite and waif-like, prided herself on wearing a size two. Lauren thought she was borderline anorexic—she never ate a thing, at least in front of them. Today she was wearing a denim Citizen skirt with a flounce at the bottom and a pale green t-shirt that looked like it was Express. Feminine. Neat. Very Heather.

Lauren dug out her cell to check the time. “I only have a couple of minutes. Got to do some stuff. And I’m hungry. Let’s go to the cafeteria.”

Claire Tennenbaum, who was tall and slim and towered over Heather, shook her head. Her long brown hair was streaked with blond, and it shimmered, even in the fluorescent school light. “I gotta talk to you guys.”

Lauren frowned. “What about?”

Claire’s denim jacket covered her torso, just barely, and her Sevens jeans were low riders. She looked around and gestured toward the stairwell.

“Why do we have to go up?” Heather’s voice was suspicious. Shit. The girl couldn’t take yes for an answer. She had to know everything, right away. At least Sara had been more subtle.

“Just come upstairs.” Claire usually had a dull, vacant look, as though the neurons in her brain were slow to fire. But today, she looked anxious. Almost scared.

Lauren headed toward the stairwell which led up to a little-used corner on the third floor. Sometimes they camped out up there during free period. Few teachers came up there, if they could avoid it—too many steps to climb.

As they entered the stairwell, a wave of kids flowed around them. There were only five minutes between classes, and teachers enforced it by doling out detention whenever a student was late. Once on the third floor, they pushed through a set of double glass doors. Heather thumped down the hall. In Michael Kors clogs, Lauren noted.

Claire flopped down on the floor at the end of the hall. Heather arranged herself more carefully.

Lauren leaned against the wall, planning to cut out after she heard whatever Claire had to say. “So what is it, Claire?”

Claire’s jaws pumped up and down. She was chewing gum. She leaned forward. “I was coming into school this morning. It was early, ‘cause I was supposed to meet my math teacher to go over some stuff for a test. Anyway, I parked across the street in the lot, and—”

Heather rolled her eyes. “Get to the point, Claire.”

Claire glared at Heather. “I am.” She angled herself away from Heather toward Lauren. “Well, this woman stopped me near my car. Said she wanted to talk about Sara.”

Lauren straightened. Heather, Lauren noticed, took her cue and became interested too.

“What woman?” Lauren said.

“Georgia Davis.”

Lauren frowned. “Was she a cop?”

Claire clacked her gum. “I—I think so.”