Chapter 20: Friends of the Murderer
Isabella's POV
Yvette was sprawled dramatically on her bed, twirling a strand of her pink-tinted hair like she was starring in a commercial for over-the-top exhaustion. "Okay, enough doom and gloom," she announced, suddenly springing upright. "We're not going to rot in this room talking about stupid Mateo until our brains leak out of our ears."
Clara blinked up from where she sat cross-legged on the rug, neat as always. "And what exactly do you suggest instead?"
"Fresh air," Yvette declared, hands raised as if she'd just cured world hunger. "And maybe a walk to the canteen. You know, sugar therapy. Chocolate heals all wounds. Even heartbreak. And maybe even… murder investigations."
Clara let out a small laugh, soft and quick. I snorted, shaking my head. "You're more chipper than you normally are. What's happened?"
Yvette smirked. "Nothing."
"Mmhm." I arched a brow. "Nothing at all? Not even a certain someone with dirty blonde hair, blue eyes and an English accent?"
Clara caught on immediately, her lips curving into a grin. "Michael," she teased, drawing the name out.
Yvette's cheeks flushed instantly. "Oh, shut up. Both of you."
"Ah, confirmation!" I gasped, delighted. "We caught you."
"¡Cállate!" Yvette snapped, her accent so atrocious that Clara and I doubled over laughing.
"That was… wow," I wheezed, clutching my stomach. "What even was that?"
"Bad Spanish," Clara supplied helpfully.
Yvette rolled her eyes but she was laughing too. "Only the lord knows why we are even friends. Now come on you guys before I change my mind."
We gathered our things and headed down the corridor, our laughter bouncing off the stone walls. For a moment, it felt almost normal. Like we were just three girls sneaking snacks and gossiping about boys instead of circling a nightmare we couldn't wake from.
But the moment shattered when we turned a corner.
A girl leaned casually against the wall ahead, arms crossed, eyes glinting with mean delight. Vanessa Doyle, a sharpfaced brunette with a reputation for cruelty and a talent for sniffing out weakness. She wasn't alone either. Two of her usual friends hovered nearby, whispering behind their hands like they'd just stumbled upon fresh meat.
"Well, well, well." Vanessa clapped slowly, each slap of her palms echoing like a slap across my cheek. "If it isn't the murderer and her loyal gang."
I froze.
Clara stiffened beside me. She was holding my hand now, hee grip tight. She looked like she wanted to roll into the ground and buy herself there.
Meanwhile, Yvette stepped forward instantly, chin high, eyes flashing. "And if it isn't the wannabe bully and her entourage. Take that back, my friend isn't a murderer."
Vanessa laughed. "Everyone knows it was Marquez. Who else could it be? And we all know daddy's pulling some strings so the police doesn't outright say you are the murderer."
Yvette didn't even give me a chance to speak. She was was all act first, think later. "She's not a murderer," she snapped. "Say that again and see what happens."
Vanessa ignored her, her gaze sliding lazily to Clara. She approached her and Clara moved further behind me.
"And you, sweet little Clara. Always following the murderer around. You think they'd be able to help you later?" Vanessa asked as her entourage chuckled.
Clara flinched subtly but since she was nearby, I noticed it.
"Don't forget me when you make it big though." Vanessa told her with a smug smile.
Rage simmered in my veins, but I forced myself to inhale, exhale.
"Come on," I muttered, nudging Clara. "She's not worth it."
We walked past, or tried to. Vanessa's laugh followed us down the corridor, sharp as glass.
When we rounded the next corner, Yvette stopped dead and spun on Clara. "What the hell was that?"
Clara blinked. "What?"
"Don't you 'what' me." Yvette's voice rose. "That girl was practically salivating and you were hiding behind Isa. What's going on?"
"Nothing," Clara said quickly, too quickly. She gave a small shrug. "Just… people talk. It's fine."
"It's not fine," I said, my stomach knotting.
Yvette crossed her arms. "Clara."
Clara hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders curling inward. "It's nothing big. Just some comments. A few people… pushing me around a little. I can handle it."
My chest tightened. Clara's tone was light, dismissive, but her eyes told another story.
Yvette's face darkened. "Pushing you around?"
"It's not that bad..."
But Yvette was already storming back the way we came.
"Yvette, wait..." I started, but she was gone, fury propelling her faster than we could follow.
By the time we reached her, she was already shoving Vanessa against the lockers.
"You think you're tough?" Yvette snarled. "Pick on me, bitch."
Vanessa shoved back, sneering. "Gladly."
Then fists flew.
It was chaos. Vanessa was taller, broader, stronger. Yvette was fast, reckless, all manicured nails and rage. They crashed into lockers, the metallic clang echoing down the hall. Students appeared like vultures, drawn by the promise of blood.
I tried to push forward, shouting, but someone held me back. Clara's hand clutched mine, trembling. "Don't," she whispered, eyes wide with terror. "She'll hate you if you interfere."
It didn't matter. The fight ended brutally. Vanessa landed a crushing blow to Yvette's side, and I heard the sickening crack of ribs. Yvette crumpled to the floor, gasping, but still smirking through the pain as if daring Vanessa to come closer.
We rushed to her side. Her face was pale, her breaths shallow, each inhale edged with agony.
"Hospital," I choked out. "Now."
Together, Clara and I half-carried, half-dragged her to the infirmary, the crowd parting reluctantly. The nurse's gasp confirmed what we already knew, broken ribs, bruises blooming across her skin.
They took her in immediately, fussing over bandages and painkillers. Clara and I hovered uselessly until finally they shooed us to a corner and only after they were done did they allow us near her but we were told she needed to rest.
"I'll get her water," I whispered, desperate to do something, anything.
Clara nodded, sinking into a chair, her face pale and drawn.
I slipped out, grabbed a bottle, and returned quietly, careful not to wake her. But when I reached the door, voices drifted out.
Yvette's voice, low but fierce: "She must never know."
Clara's softer reply: "Don't talk like that."
"She can't know," Yvette pressed, her words edged with pain but unwavering. "Isabella's got enough on her plate. No one gets to bully you guys, Clara. No one. Except me okay?"
My chest constricted.
"Yvette..." Clara began.
"I'm serious." Yvette's laugh was brittle. "I've dealt with shitty people before. You guys forget I live with one. This? A few punches? It's nothing new. I can handle it. But you guys...you have the softest heart and Isabella...she's got the biggest heart of all. She doesn't deserve this. Not on top of everything else."
I stood frozen, water bottle clutched tight, tears blurring my vision.
"But she'll find out soon." Clara told her.
"I'm not going to let that happen. Which is why if anyone dares bully you, tell me okay? I'll cover for you. We can deal with it until the investigation is done and the whole school knows Isabella isn't the killer." Yvette spoke up. "Well protect her. It's our turn now."
The tears fell freely now. I couldn't control it and I didn't want them to know that I was right there and so I left quietly. My friends were suffering too and I had been so blind to it. I couldn't see past my own guilt when they were trying to protect me all along.
Clara had been bullied before and now because of me she was being bullied again. Yvette was in the infirmary with broken bones because of me too.
If the cops were not going to help me out, then I'll find a solution myself. There was one more person who knew I wasn't the killer and I was going to have to ask him for help. It was time I took my destiny in my own hands .