Wrongly accused
If I had just listened to my mum for once, I probably could have avoided this whole fiasco.
She'd told me to stay out of it. That getting involved would just draw unwanted attention to us. And she was right, in a way. I did draw unwanted attention to us. To me in particular.
"Abi! Hello! Are you listening to me?"
I blinked and saw my younger sister glaring at me. Weird.
"Abi! Did you hear any of what I just said?" She demanded, placing her hands on her hips. I paused. Cho had been ranting about how unfair it was the new girl in her class was already friends with the popular girls and tried to make a move on her "boyfriend". I honestly found the idea of Cho, my younger sister of four years having a boyfriend laughable. She was eleven. Freaking eleven!
"Of course I did, Cho. You were whining about the new girl again, Eva." I replied, twirling my pen between my fingers. When did I pick up a pen?
Cho froze, eyes livid. "It's Ava! And no, I was telling you about my maths test! But if you can't be bothered to pay attemtion to me, I guess I'll just go talk to someone nicer!"
I hummed, still thinking about the pen problem. "Bye," I murmured, absent-mindedly.
Judging by her rapidly reddening face, this was not the reaction she was looking for. But as she stormed off angrily, I found myself forgetting about the interaction, concentrating now on my homework. I didn't usually leave homework until the day before it was due, but I seemed to be doing it more and more frequently.
It's probably just me growing up, I reasoned. I had been 16 for two months now, it was only normal for me to start getting lazier. I have been falling behind in classes a little bit; maybe I should pay attention some more.
Yawning, I glanced at the clock on my desk and felt my eyes widen considerably. It was already 10:20 and I'd barely gotten started. I winced, knowing I should probably go to sleep soon: it was a school day tomorrow after all. But... I was having trouble sleeping lately. Sometimes I'd wake up for no apparent reason in the middle of the night, or wake up on the couch when I knew for certain I went to sleep on the bed. So I stayed up, working on my homework until I fell asleep at my desk.
When I woke up it was to the sound of the annoyingly persistent beeping of my alarm clock. I groaned and rolled over, noting how I was now in my bed like I had been there all night. I sighed and hit the stop button, reluctantly getting up for school.
"Abi!"
I blinked.
"Abi!"
I scowled before hurrying to the top of the stairs and yelling down to my mum. "What?"
I waited a few seconds before hearing the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs.
My mum appeared with her phone in her hand, barely looking up before shoving it into my freakishly clean hands. They looked like someone had thoroughly washed them in the night as even my nails were squeaky clear. It was a frightening thought, but the photo on the phone quickly cleared my mind.
The bold title of the article screamed 'Teenage girl convicted of murder! Details are yet to be released!' With a photo of her just underneath.
It was Isabelle. It was Isabelle?
Instantly, I knew there had been a mistake. Izzy would never murder anyone- she refused to even kill a spider, prefering to release it into her garden instead. It was probably just that they'd posted the picture of the wrong girl. I'd call her on the way to school to see what her thoughts were.
Maybe I should call Zara too, just to make sure Izzy hadn't been wrongly arrested.
Zara's dad was the Chief of the police force, which was probably why Zara herself was so daring with the law. He would never arrest his only child. If anyone knew what had happened or who had been murdered, it was her.
