Great. Saved by cheerleaders. I would never live this down.
“Thanks,” I said. “But how did you find me?” I asked, still dragging in deep breaths.
“We were shooting videos of the dance for Nicky,” Drea explained, leaning down to untie my bonds.
“And we saw Mr. Tipkins helping you from the girls’ bathroom,” Cheerleader number one said. “We totally thought you were drunk or something.”
“Yeah, so we followed you guys, shooting in case you puked or something cool,” Cheerleader number two said.
“Nicky would have loved that,” Drea agreed.
I just bet.
“But I wasn’t drunk,” I pointed out.
Drea nodded. “Yeah, we realized that when he tied you up.”
I blinked at her. “You watched him tie me up? Why didn’t you help me?”
“Dude, we tried! The gate was locked, and we couldn’t get in.”
“We even tried to climb over the fence,” Cheerleader number one said, “but that totally wasn’t working with our wardrobes.” She gestured to the micromini dresses they all wore.
Drea nodded in agreement. “It wasn’t until Tipkins opened the gate and left that we could get in and rescue you.”
“Thanks,” I told them. Meaning it. If it hadn’t been for them hoping to catch me making a fool of myself, I’d have made a dead body of myself. “And Mr. Tipkins?” I asked, my gaze whipping around the area.
“He ran,” number two said. “Totally took off toward the parking lot as soon as he tossed you.”
“So he got away?” I asked, a sinking feeling hitting my stomach.
But Drea grinned. “Not for long. I got his whole confession on video.” She held up the Flip cam she’d been carrying around with her all night. “And,” she added, hitting a little red button on the side, “it’s all uploading to YouTube as we speak.”
I grinned.
Score one for the brats and their technology.
Chapter Twenty-Four
TWENTY MINUTES LATER, IT SEEMED LIKE THE ENTIRE STUDENT population of Herbert Hoover High was standing by the pool, plus our chaperones, teachers, and about a dozen police officers. Drea and Cheerleaders number one and two were enthusiastically giving their statements to officers, complete with lots of hand waving, jumping up and down, and video footage of them coming to my rescue. Sam and Kyle were exactly where they’d been ever since running from the cafeteria at speeds that left both crowns at odd angles: right by my side. Sam had immediately wrapped both arms around me, letting go only when I begged for air, and hadn’t let go of my hand since. Kyle had taken it upon himself to shield me from the thousand questions everyone began throwing at me the second they saw my dripping hair and soggy homecoming dress, holding them at bay by repeatedly yelling, “Give her some room to breathe!”
Someone had found a tarp in the utility shed, which I’d wrapped around myself as a makeshift blanket, but I was still shivering through my wet clothes as I sat on the ground beside the pool. “Hartley!” I heard a voice call through the crowd, and looked up to find Chase rushing toward me. He ignored the crowd, police, and chaperones, enveloping me in a hug so fierce, I might have mistaken him for Mom.
I’ll admit, with his arms around me, some warmth started to return to my system.
“God, I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he said when he finally pulled away. “As soon as I saw you were gone, I texted everyone to see if they’d seen you. Ashley said she thought she saw you heading toward the quad, Chris said he thought you went out to the parking lot, Jenni said to try the football field. I’ve been all over the school looking.” He ran a hand through his hair, and I could tell by the way his spikes stood up in messy tufts that it hadn’t been the first time he’d done it that evening. His face was pale in the moonlight, his mouth drawn in a tight line. He really did look like he’d been worried.
More of that welcome warmth pooled in my stomach at the thought.
“I’m okay,” I reassured him. Though “okay” was kind of a relative term at the moment. But I was alive, and that was a lot more than I might have hoped for earlier.
I quickly told him everything, from being hit on the head to being rescued by Drea and company. I was just finishing when I saw another familiar face push through the crowd. Freckled, slightly wrinkled, and topped with red hair.
Raley.
And behind him trailed Mom, pushing her way toward me.
“Oh, Hartley,” she said, grabbing me around the middle.
I hugged her back. After the night I’d had, I could use all the hugs I could get.
When she finally pulled away, I noticed for the first time what she was wearing. And it was not the yoga pants and T-shirt I’d left her in earlier that evening.
It was a black sleeveless dress that ended well above her knee, paired with heels that were higher than mine.
“Why are you all dressed up?” I asked.
She looked down. “Well, David and I were at dinner when he got the call about you.”
I cocked my head to the side. “David?”
She blushed. “Detective Raley.”
Mental face palm.
My gaze shifted to Raley and I noticed he was also a notch up from his usual schlumpy fare, wearing a pair of dark slacks with a shirt that actually looked cleaned and ironed.
That’s it. This was getting out of hand.
“This is the third date in as many days, Mom.”
“I know.” She beamed. “Well, technically, it might be the fourth, since David was at our house so late last night-”
“Oh God, Mom. Please stop talking now.”
She shot me a look but, considering my near-death experience, was thankfully compassionate enough to comply.
After giving another quick version of events to Raley (no way was I ever going to think of him as “David”), he told Mom she could take me home and he’d come over tomorrow to take down an official statement.
Then Mom bundled me into her minivan, cranked the heat to full blast, and took me home, where I took the longest, hottest shower on record. (But not a bath. I wasn’t sure I wanted to go near standing water ever again.)
Afterward, I slipped into a pair of long johns, a pair of sweats, two pairs of socks, and fluffy pink slippers, and I was almost warm again.
Mom made me a cup of hot cocoa (with soy milk and organic fructose), though I was so tired, I could hardly hold my head up to sip at it before I fell into bed, my eyes closing almost before I even hit the pillows.
HERBERT HOOVER HIGH TEACHER ARRESTED FOR MURDER
Long known as one of the toughest teachers on campus, Mr. Tipkins was arrested Saturday evening for the murder of HHH student Sydney Sanders, as well as the attempted murders of both Nicky Williams and yours truly, Hartley Grace Featherstone. Mr. Tipkins has pled not guilty but, due to an inability to post bail, was remanded to the county detention facility, pending trial.
The arrest was on the heels of a video of Mr. Tipkins confessing to his crimes that circulated on YouTube. Incidentally the video received 550,000 hits in the first weekend, making it YouTube’s top video of the week.
I looked down at my article. I had to admit, it wasn’t bad. Unfortunately, the major media outlets had gotten hold of the story before I’d had a chance to break the news in the Homepage, but I had the most unique angle there was-from a survivor of Mr. Tipkins’s attack. Which included both my perspective on the matter and a whole host of juicy inside facts. And, as Chase had wanted, this was definitely an angle no one else had heard on the story of Sydney’s death.
Which, after viewing Tipkins’s confession, Raley had reopened the case files on, changing the official ruling from suicide to homicide. (Sam and I couldn’t quite convince him to put “Twittercide” in the official report.) He and his police force had found Mr. Tipkins at home, where he’d been packing his bags for Mexico. Into the trunk of his Toyota. Which gave Raley enough probable cause to charge him with not one but two attempts on my life.