5th October, 2015.

12:15 AM.

Alyson Cooper was sitting in an empty office at the police station with a blanket over her shoulders, and a mug of hot coffee in her hands. The coffee was good, but it did nothing to alleviate the sinking feeling in her stomach.

Bethany was dead!

She looked around at the room for something to do to take her mind off it. The room was basically empty, save for a long mirror placed on the wall, and some furniture. She was sitting on one of ten chairs arranged in a circle, with a round table at the center. The arrangement reminded her a little of AA meetings.

She stole a glance at her reflection in the mirror. Her shoulder length red hair was damp and fell in waves around her face and back. Her emerald green eyes were red-rimmed, and flashed with anger.

Why was she surrounded by so much bad luck? Bethany was dead!

First it was her parents, followed by Ian leaving, then her aunt dying, now her sister. Alyson got up and threw her mug on the mirror. She watched it crack into three pieces. She walked to the shattered mirror and looked at her reflection again. This time, she saw a young woman who had been broken over and over again.
Was there something fundamentally wrong with her? What had she ever done to deserve this? She threw her blanket on the floor.

She glanced up as Ian walked into the room, looking at her like she was a trapped animal who was ready to lash out at any moment. She didn't blame him, as it had taken him over two hours to calm her hysteria after her public meltdown.

He was holding several files in his hands, as well as a note with a pen. She looked at him with conflicting emotions. It was a fucked up situation. As her sister died, Ian came back into her life. She had not seen him in so long, that as he looked at her from across the room, she was not sure what to feel. She sat down and braced herself for the questions to come.

What was he doing in town anyway?

He took a seat beside her and dragged his chair across the floor, so he could face her directly. He glanced at the room, at the broken mug and shattered mirror, and nodded in understanding. Somehow, the gesture made Alyson angrier. Who was he to judge anyway? He had no idea what she was going through.

"Alyson, I am so sorry for your loss," he sympathized, holding her hands gently.

"The last thing I need right now is sympathy - yours or anyone else's," she replied, pulling her hands away and placing them on her thighs.

"What I need now is justice. Find whoever is fucking responsible," She willed her voice not to break. She was in no mood to cry anymore in front of her ex.

"Fair enough. When was the last time you saw Bethany alive?" he asked as he took out the note and began to jot things down lightly.

"Yesterday, around three. She left the house when I was in the living room."

"Did she tell you where she was going?" he asked.

"No, I didn't ask. We didn't have that kind of relationship." Alyson placed her palm on her head. She was beginning to get a headache.

"So she came and left as she wished?"

"Most of the time, yes. She only hung out with a certain group of people, so she usually wasn't hard to trace. Her schedule was school, practice, work on alternate days, and her boyfriend's house," she replied.

"The boyfriend, can you tell me about him?"

"His name is Nathan Fields, and they've been in a relationship for about three years."

"Fields? Like Mayor Fields?" he asked curiously.

"Yes, he's the mayor's son."

"Tell me more about Bethany. How was she as a person? Did she have any enemies?"

"She was... difficult to be with. Strongly opinionated, defensive, and stubborn. She was one of the most popular girls at her school, so she had a fair amount of people who disliked her," She replied diplomatically.

Alyson hesitated, but concluded honestly, "She was rude, a bully, and a generally nasty person. Anyone that tells you otherwise should be looked into."

Ian sat upright, and jotted it down. This was certainly an interesting piece of new information.

"She was determined to keep being the most popular person at school; so determined she dyed her hair blonde and wore blue contacts for years because she thought it would fit in with her Queen bee persona."

Ian took out a file from the stack of folders in front of him and glanced at it briefly, "We've obtained her academic records from her school and from what I can see, she was very intelligent. She was a straight A student."

Bethany definitely was, Alyson thought. Her near photographic memory was one of the reasons Alyson had been unwilling to hand her over to their relatives when their parents died in a car accident seven years ago.

It was because of her brightness and willingness to learn Alyson didn't want her younger sister to grow up with a bunch of assholes who grew weed in their basement. She knew it would eventually corrupt her so she did what she had to do. She took responsibility for Bethany's care, and gave up on her college dreams.

Alyson felt like punching a wall. This was not how it was supposed to go. Bethany should have graduated top of her class, gone to medical school, and taken her out of this hellhole as payment for giving up her dreams for her. She was incredibly selfish to die like that.

"Alyson did you hear me?" Ian asked, breaking her out of her reverie.

"What?"

"I said Bethany was a smart person. Was she just book smart, or did she have a high level of emotional intelligence as well?" he repeated.

"She was... perceptive, and could read people. That I know."

"Bethany has had that strong personality for years. It would make more sense for people to be used to her by now. Why would anyone just up and kill her?" he asked.

Alyson thought for a while and weighed her next words carefully, "She knew a lot of secrets, and told me as much. She probably threatened the wrong person at the wrong time."

"Asides from her boyfriend, who else did she normally hang out with?" he asked. He noticed that she was getting increasingly restless.

"Her best friend Sherylyn, and a couple of jocks on the cheerleading and football teams."

"Did Bethany trust them?"

"In this town, no one is to be trusted and Bethany definitely knew that," she said as she laughed drily.

"About this best friend of hers, what can you tell me about their relationship?"

"They were quite close. Sherylyn is the vice cheer captain on the squad. They also worked at the same place. I did not see her much, but Bethany usually gave her hand-me-downs and Sherylyn looked up to her."

"Anything else you can think of?"

"Not at the moment, no," she said as she put her head in her hands.

"Alyson will you be fine?" he asked worriedly.

"Would that be all?" she asked curtly.

He backed off, stung, "Yes. Thank you for your time. I will contact you if there are further questions."

She got up and left the room without another word. Ian sighed as he reviewed the notes he had gotten from the interview. It seemed Barke High was a lot more dangerous than he remembered.

*****

4th September, 2015 (One Month to the Murder).

2:50 PM.

The cheerleading tryouts were a mess, and Bethany Cooper was having none of it. Only God knew where the decrepit, fat little pigs who showed up dragged themselves from. Didn't they know cheer was an art? They were at the extreme part of the field, with the aspirants sitting on the bleachers. The cheer coach had insisted on being there, to help with the 'decision making process', but ultimately, it was no secret that the final decision lay with her.

The last girl to try for the squad almost fractured her pelvis when attempting what she thought was the splits, and a girl who literally weighed 180 pounds at 5'5 came waddling to the field hoping for a spot.

She glanced at the football field to save her eyes from the utter travesty in the name of dance that was going on, and smirked as her eyes locked with her boyfriend, Nathan's, who was gearing his team up for practice. Everyone knew his friend, Julian, was a better player, but Nate's father had made a lot of monetary donations to the school so the title of captain was given to him instead. If only the girl dancing had that kind of money, perhaps she could buy some talent.

People usually assumed that being popular was easy, but it was incredibly hard to maintain. It was one thing to be noticed, it was another to be noticed consistently. She had four rules to live by, which she followed religiously:

Rule one: Always look good. She was very invested in self-care, and ate only occasionally to remain skinny. She took up sewing, because she could not afford a lot of good clothes, so she bought magazines - lots of them. She studied styles, and recreated them in her own way with fabrics she had gotten from the store, so she always looked stylish.

Rule two: Set up an exclusive club, with twelve people at the maximum. They would be the elites of the school. People would want to be there as it would increase their social standing. They would do anything just for a consideration. The members would also not want to lose their standing in the club as it would be social suicide. They would also want to make you pleased. It was a win-win situation.

Rule three: Be feared, if not respected. If people feared you, they would not cross you. After all, she had to humiliate Rachel publicly after she caught her staring at Nate. Having Paul suspended after he rated her second most stylish was justifiable. And releasing Diane's sex tape for being ranked most stylish was simply necessary. Bonus, it certainly didn't hurt to spread fearsome rumors once in a while. It kept people in check.

The final rule of all; use the fear against them. It's surprising how much people reveal to get on one's good side. Give them a little attention, and they'd be spilling their guts out. Use the secrets against them, then give them a chance to set themselves free by spilling secrets about other people. It was a beautiful and vicious circle.

Most townsfolk still pitied her because she had lost her parents at such a young age, but honestly, she could not even remember them. She was stuck instead with her whiny, pathetic older sister who never failed to remind her that she had given up her dreams for her. Who asked her to do that in the first place? Why would anyone pass up a chance to leave this place if they weren't slow? The bitch even thought once she became a doctor, she would take care of them both. She was too naïve.

"Next!" Bethany yelled after the lumpy girl finished, her patience wearing thin. She would have given the fat whore a piece of her mind for daring to come for tryouts, but the coach, a middle aged, thirsty, old cow was giving her the stink eye.

"You have to make the cheerleading team a safe space," the old hag told her previously, in her throaty croak. She looked at coach Meyers again, and wondered why the aged woman hadn't killed herself yet. It had to be hard, shaped like the slender man, without curves or prospects, and a lesbian haircut to boot. The woman acted like Bethany was bad, but she had caught her staring at the shirtless football players who roamed the field.

"Cindy Dalton," the next cheer aspirant announced, putting down her bag, and standing on the line marked X.

Bethany of course knew who that was, as she was on the squad two years ago. She took an 'academic break' for a few weeks the previous year, but everyone knew she left to get an abortion. From the looks of it, it was probably botched.

"Stand on the weighing scale please," Bethany said with false sweetness. The scale was to weed out the fatties, and one had to be of a certain range in order to perform.

Cindy climbed the scale with a scowl, "131 pounds."

"Lose about five pounds if you make the squad."

"I'll try my best."

Each year, they had so many aspirants because the squad was elite. Why? Because she ruled the team with an iron fist. She handed out workout schedules, diet timetables, and she always made sure her squad were in the best form possible. No position was safe - except hers of course, as each person had to audition for the team each year. That kept them on their toes and prevented slacking. She did not do yoga twice a day, to be told 'I'll try'. That statement indicated laziness, which was a taboo on the squad.

Bethany looked at coach Meyers again and bit her tongue.

"Show us what you got," she said as she played Psy's Gangnam Style.

Cindy performed a simple routine, consisting mainly of toe touches, and high kicks with some street dancing thrown in the mix. She was good, but not good enough.

"Thank you," Bethany said sweetly.

"Did I make the squad?" Cindy asked.

"Nope. You can try again next year."

"But I'm a senior," Cindy said affronted.

"Then hopefully you won't graduate this year then," Bethany replied.

Cindy turned around, thought better of it, and blurted, "You know, you're a bitch, and a fat-shaming bully. My routine was good and you know it."

That was it!

"If you had talent, I would assume your rudeness was artistic genius. So I don't get why someone so talentless and useless would have a mouth so big," Bethany screamed, in order to attract everyone present. The guys on the football team were watching the heated exchange with a knowing look.

"If you had actually spent as much time exercising instead of spreading your legs for hobos, perhaps you wouldn't look so pregnant... oh wait, you actually were," Bethany finished. Cindy wanted public humiliation, she would get it in full.

Cindy murmured incoherently in anger.

Bethany cupped her right ear with a hand and pretended to strain her ears, "Oh I'm sorry, but I don't speak ho. Perhaps we should get your mother to translate for us?"

Cindy looked like she was about to cry and started walking away.

"Oh Cindy," Bethany called out.

"Take your flea infested bag with you," she continued, as Cindy turned and ran out of the field.

She looked at Coach Meyers, whose face had splotches of red on it from anger, and sat down slowly.

"Next!" she called out. They all knew they needed her to survive. She was fucking irreplaceable.

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