Died Blondes Read online

  Oh my God, you’re right!

  Which means he might still be trying to kill me!

  Which means he finally kills all three of us!

  *

  Chapter 3

  Sure, we admit it; in our time, we have been just a little bit mean to Graham.

  But to kill us?

  That’s an all-new level of being mean!

  It’s hardly petty revenge.

  See, petty revenge is fine in our book. Who doesn’t indulge in that every now and again?

  Such as setting fire to someone’s history note books.

  Or making sure someone’s science experiment produces the wrong results; you know, changing a few chemicals around, that sort of thing?

  Or leaving an old, crumbly chocolate biscuit in someone’s school bag. So it gets all over their homework books.

  Which we’ve all done to Graham, at some point.

  Along with ensuring any scandal at school somehow pointed back to him as the one being responsible.

  Like spreading a little white lie that he was seen out with our best friend Fleur Knightsbridge. (But that was more of a slur on Fleur than Graham. And, in our defence, Fleur isn’t our best friend any longer!)

  We could go on and on.

  And indeed we did. Day after day.

  But just how boring can school be unless there’s someone you know who’s going to help brighten up your day?

  So, okay – let’s be totally honest with ourselves here.

  Let’s re-evaluate our lives, our past mistakes.

  God – we were absolutely terrible to the poor guy!

  What were we thinking?

  No wonder he thought we deserved to die!

  *

  ‘Graham: look, I’m sorry about everything we did to you. We were mean, especially Chloe–’

  Wait a minute! What do you mean, especially Chloe?

  Well you were the one who–

  Look, I’m all for apologising to the poor guy! But not if I’m the one who takes the rap for everything!

  Okay, okay, Chloe! But that’s why I’m practising what I’m going to say! This isn’t going to be easy, you know!

  Well just avoid being specific, using any names! How hard is that?

  Maybe we should just–

  He’s here, he’s here! Just no names, okay?

  I’ve been waiting outside the university, where we know Graham will be. He’s allowed to attend special classes there, even has a section of a science studio he’s allowed to call his own. All on account of his frankly weird understanding of science. Oh, and a particularly large, regular donation from his parents to the university funds.

  ‘Graham! I’m really sorry about everything we did to you. We now realise – I mean, I now realise–’

  Graham flinches, jumps back like he’s expecting some horrendous trick to be played on him at any moment.

  Oh God, we did unnerve him, didn’t we?

  He’s glancing nervously over my shoulder, like he’s expecting Chloe and Pearl to suddenly leap out at him.

  Admittedly, when it comes to looking you straight in the eye, Graham’s one of these who’d rather peer at a spot on his shoe. Either that or something staining the pavement over to your left. Anything but converse with you like any regular human being.

  But today, it’s different. Sure, he’s not looking at me, but he’s looking just about everywhere else that he can. Like he’s nervous. Like he’s expecting something really bad to happen any minute now.

  Now, Graham could hardly be described as the hottest guy on the planet; not even if global warming went global could you even think of him as being even slightly warm. But right now the way his glasses magnify his eyes makes him look like some poor little lemur about to be devoured by some lemur-eating animal.

  He grabs my arm, so tightly I’m worried he’s about to wrench it off. Maybe even use my own bloody limb to beat me about the head.

  ‘Amina, I’m sorry! I’m really sorry about what happened to poor Chloe and Pearl!’

  And as the guy says it, we all notice he’s in tears.

  Tears of sorrow, tears of fear. He’s shaking like he’s freezing.

  He’s constantly glancing about us, like he’s worried someone might be listening in.

  ‘I honestly didn’t mean it to end up like this, I–’

  ‘Graham? What do you mean: you didn’t mean it to end like this?’

  ‘I mean, I mean – it wasn’t me! I swear it wasn’t me! If I could change it all bac– it was the Rye Man, Amina! Watch out for the Rye Man!’

  Wry man? Who’s that? Some guy with an amused face?

  Doesn’t wry mean sceptical or something?

  So watching out for a guy with a sceptical face makes more sense that one with an amused one, right?

  ‘Why do I need to watch out for him? Who is he?’

  Graham’s still looking everywhere about us, as if he figures this wry guy killed C and P and he’s going to come out and slaughter us both at any moment.

  ‘Have you ever heard of the Slender Man?’ he asks.

  As soon as he says ‘Slender Man’, he acts like this is a big mistake. Akin to calling up the Devil just by mentioning his name.

  The Slender Man’s just a made up character!

  Yeah, just made up photos of him on the web.

  All ominous looking; hanging around kiddies’ playgrounds, things like that!

  ‘The Slender Man doesn’t really exist!’ I say to him.

  ‘I know that!’ he snaps, almost snapping my arm off at the same time. He’s still gripping it tightly, nervously. ‘But the Rye Man; he really exists! A real life Slender Man!’

  ‘A guy who sneaks kids away?’

  ‘Worse, worse! I just mean he’s like the Slender Man because you can never know where he really is! He just appears out of nowhere! Watching us all the time!’

  Wow, he’s cracked!

  We broke the poor guy!

  His grip on my arm tightens. I’d never have guessed flabby Graham was so strong.

  ‘Amina: he’s coming after you next! I know!’

  *

  Chapter 4

  Is he totally crazed, do you think?

  When Graham had at last let go of my arm, he’d dashed off before I’d had any chance to ask him any more questions.

  As he’d run away, he’d once again spent all his time nervously glancing about himself. Keeping an eye out for this Wry Man.

  Got to be; why else would he believe in this Wry Man creep otherwise?

  Yeah, I mean; that’s like believing in spirits and the spirit world!

  Amina! Please don’t tell us you believe him?

  It’s just an excuse! Obviously he knows we’re on to him! So he’s trying to put us off the scent.

  And if he’s right? And this Wry Man’s coming after me – after us?

  But why would this Wry Man be after us anyway?

  Maybe it’s someone from our past: you know, like you see in these superhero comics.

  Someone whose mind we warped many years ago?

  Think girls, think! Is there anybody who fits that description?

  Thinking’s hardly our strongest point – not like an effortless sense of style, of knowing what’s right in the all-important fashion stakes. But no matter how hard we think about it, we still can’t come up with anybody we’ve treated worse than Graham.

  It has to be Graham! This Wry Man’s just a figment of his imagination!

  So how do we find out what he’s up to – and make sure he doesn’t get to kill Amina?

  Maybe staying out of his way?

  That’s hardly what Charlie’s Angels would do, is it?

  So what would they do – apart from wishing they were all at least fifty years younger?

  They’d search his school locker!

  *

  We’ve done this before.

  Many times.

  See, the locks on these things are really pretty simple. If you ev
er check the keys against each other, you’ll see there’s hardly any difference between them

  All it takes is a little filing, and voila – you’re a master safe breaker!

  Of course, we took the easy way out and just pinched one of Graham’s spares.

  Sure, he accused us of taking it. He’s not really stupid, even though we like calling him thick-as-a forest.

  But when you’re blonde and pretty, you just open your eyes wide, put on an innocent face: and no one could believe you would ever do such a thing.

  Especially, of course, your parents. Who start accusing the school of picking on their daughters.

  Now before you start thinking ill of us, maybe it’s time to point out that Graham himself isn’t simply this geeky, intelligent know-it-all everyone thinks he is.

  He’s also snidey, sneaky – and, frankly, all a bit twitchy and bitter.

  We first had to break into his locker because someone was taking photos of us looking either miserable or angry and posting printouts around school.

  Now, okay; so we didn’t find anything linking him to all this. But we did find the weirdest diagram you’ve ever seen!

  He’d called it ‘The Warped World’.

  He must’ve used some sort of stencil to draw all these boys and girls in columns. Then he’d used their hair colour and length to give some idea of which girl and boy at school each was supposed to represent.

  He’d drawn connecting lines between the girls and the boys, probably, we reckoned, showing who had gone out with whom.

  Of course, most of the boys shown there didn’t have any linking lines at all.

  There were only a handful of them who had more than one link. And the more links a boy had, the more they were likely to be links to what we presumed must be the better looking girls, as these also had the most links.

  Hardly rocket science, right?

  But the more lines that connected to a girl, the harder the hatching of the pen had become. Until he was almost cutting the paper to shreds.

  If the diagram was for some school project, we really really wouldn’t like to know which one.

  As far as we know, there aren’t any ‘Why we hate girls’ classes being held.

  We lied, told him we’d seen him drawing his diagram. Told him, too, that we’d taken a photo of him on our cellphones.

  If the photos of us kept on appearing, we warned him, then we would post our own photos.

  That was it; the photos of us stopped appearing.

  When I open the locker again, at first glance it looks like the diagram’s still there, unchanged.

  But when I take it out, it’s been re-titled.

  It’s now ‘The Forest Revolution’.

  And what do you know.

  There are three blondes on here with funeral crosses drawn completely across them

  *

  Chapter 5

  Of course, C and P are furious.

  Since when did I go out with Brian Morrow?

  Oh, you so did! But what about me? Where’s my link to Kearen Kemp?

  Girls, girls: I think we’re dealing with one sick individual here!

  Too true! I can’t believe he thinks Trudy Fisher went out with Tyler!

  Wait! Look, what’s this?

  I’m scrabbling through Graham’s mass of useless books to get to what I think I’ve seen right at the back – yes, I was right!

  A video camera!

  My God! What will he have on there?

  It’d better not be us again!

  It’s got a memory stick...

  ‘What do you think you’re doing in my locker again?’

  I whirl around. It’s Graham, rushing down on me like one of those bulls you see photographed in Spanish streets, goring these poor people even though they’d only just popped off down to the mall.

  ‘Oh, er, hi Graham, I, er...’

  Tell him to get lost!

  Tell him the locker was open!

  ‘Er, it was open, see?’

  To prove it, I tweak the locker’s door.

  It doesn’t seem to do the trick. He glowers, snatches the video camera off me.

  ‘Thief!’

  Tell him things were hanging out! You didn’t want it stolen!

  ‘Things were hanging out! I thought someone might take them!’

  My puppy dog eyes – well, if puppy dogs had green eyes, anyway – work on anyone but Graham Forest.

  He still glares at me, still snorts down his nose like some dragon about to devour an innocent maiden.

  I think he’s going to kill me right here and now. He doesn’t want to wait until he’s got another killer tuna sandwich.

  Please please send some hero to rescue me right now, please please!

  ‘Are you okay?’

  A young guy’s stepped alongside us both. He’s managing to both look at me concernedly and glare at Graham like he’ll rip his arms off as soon as I give the word.

  It’s James Dean!

  No, Austin Ames!

  No it isn’t, idiots!

  It’s Aaron Samuels.

  My dream man!

  Your dream man’s Drake!

  ‘Who’re you?’ Graham asks him snottily.

  ‘It doesn’t matter who I am: what matters is what you’re doing to...’

  He looks at me with wonderfully blue eyes.

  Sparkling grey!

  More like amber!

  ‘Amina.’

  ‘Hi, I’m Adam!’

  The first man: figures!

  ‘Adam and Amina.’

  God no, Amina! You just said that out loud!

  Thankfully, he smiles. Like he thinks, like me, there’s a nice ring to it.

  ‘Hello, am I still here?’ Graham storms.

  ‘I don’t know? Are you? And if so, why?’

  ‘Because it’s my locker she’s been–’

  ‘She’s been closing so no one steals your things!’

  I look Graham’s way, eyes wide, innocent as a newborn babe in arms.

  And as I stand with the gorgeous Adam, I really do wish I were the new babe in his arms!

  *

  Wow, who was that?

  Going by his overalls, I reckon he’s with the maintenance staff.

  Bit young for that isn’t he?

  Well, he’s not at school, is he? Unless he’s been allowed to set a whole new dress code.

  If he can dress like that and look so amazing, I’m all for it.

  But if he’s maintenance, that means he might not be back! They go from school to school: whichever needs it most.

  Well what are we waiting for? Let’s start trashing the school!

  Under Adam’s hard stare, Graham had grumpily retreated after making sure I’d put his camera back and slammed the door shut.

  Seeing the successful conclusion of his heroic mission, Adam gave me this huge grin – then turned and walked away.

  Quick, say something, you dope!

  What, what do I say?

  Anything!

  But it was too late. He’d gone, slipping round the corner leading out into the hall.

  Shugar!

  Bit late for that now, Joan Rivers!

  Mission Impossible: get a date with the first new, really good-looking guy we’ve seen in ages – and he doesn’t even come to our school!

  We don’t know where he lives! Where he’s from! Anything about him.

  Wait! I forgot to tell you what I managed to sneak into my pocket!

  You got his wallet?

  Way to go, Artful Dodger!

  No, no: not his wallet – this!

  I proudly hold up the memory stick I’d managed to pocket without anyone noticing.

  The guy has a memory stick with all his details on?

  Not him; Graham’s. It’s from his camera!

  *

  Chapter 6

  I still think you’d have been better stealing Adam’s memory stick or phone, maybe–

  Oh, and that would re
ally endear me to him, would it? ‘Oh hi, you might be wondering how I got your address, and what happened to your phone, but...’

  As chat up lines, that’s up there with...well, with whatever’s not really very high up!

  You could have said he’d dropped it; so you were bringing it back.

  Damn! Yes!

  I saw the way he looked at you, Amina. Definitely interested!

  You think so?

  Know so.

  He’ll be back; how can he resist? Especially now your only real rivals are out of the way!

  Not only out of the way, but even helping you land him!

  How can we fail?

  Oh oh, geek at four o’clock! On our tail.

  It’s true: Graham’s storming back towards us, head down, his eyes darting suspiciously from side to side. Like he’s watching out for Adam rushing to help his damsel in distress once more.

  ‘Amina, look,’ he blurts out as soon as he reaches us, ‘you shouldn’t trust that boy! I think there’s something wrong wit–’

  ‘Something wrong? With him?’

  Good one girl!

  Knock him outa the ring!

  You’ve got him reeling!

  ‘Graham, we’ve – I’ve – just seen your new diagram!’

  ‘It was...was a mistake!’

  ‘A mistake? So that’s what you call drawing crosses all over me, Pearl and Chloe, is it? Two of us are dead!’

  ‘Look, please, please don’t say anything about that! I’ll leave you alone, honest I will!’

  He starts striding off, head down like a sore bull once more.

  He glances over his shoulder.

  ‘But – stay away from him! Or else I can’t help you!’

  *

  Can you believe that jerk?

  The best looking boy we’ve seen in ages, and that dork tells us – tells you – to stay away from him?

  How dare he?

  Who does he think he is?

  He thinks he’s Tom Cruise.

  Tom Cruise? How’re you so sure – oh, yeah.

  I’ve put Graham’s memory stick into my laptop at home. I’ve been accessing all the links, brought up the video he’s been putting together.

  Oh creepstreet in creepsville.

  In the world’s creepiest country!

  *

  I stay far enough back on the street so that no one notices us watching. (In an area as ridiculously wealthy as this, people tend to notice anyone who doesn’t live there.)

  The police have called round at Graham’s house; thank God.