How to Get Away with Evil

Chapter 2

Jessi

Jail isn't for Angels

Annabeth was dead, and it hadn't been an accident.

That was all I knew.

I didn't understand how or why someone would kill Anna. She had been the closest to perfect that I had ever known. She was the type of person who made you feel lucky just for knowing them – the type of person who never faltered or doubted themselves.

Basically, everything that I wasn't.

I stared out of the barred window of the police car, trying to ignore how ridiculously tight the backseat was, only made worse by the fact that Ethan was squeezed in beside me. I wanted to scream, to claw and pound at the windows until they let me out so that I could run far, far away–

No, I told myself. Stay calm. Acting like a psychopath won't help you.

The scratchy, frayed seatbelt rubbed uncomfortably against my neck, and I tried to sit up straighter, but that didn't fix the problem. I had always been the shortest, and the world seemed to love reminding me of that.

Continuing to stare out the window, I suddenly caught a glimpse of my disastrous reflection – messy hair; eyes rimmed with shadows; obnoxiously obvious reddish-brown birthmark that circled my right eye like a bruise.

I quickly averted my eyes from my reflection and glanced over at Ethan, who was staring blankly ahead, anxiously twisting his fingers in his lap.

I can't believe they even consider him a suspect, I thought, chewing one of my nails.

Ethan looked over at me, then shot me a concerned, disapproving glance. I stopped biting. Brushing a lock of chin-length hair out of my face, I leaned against the car door, trying to keep my breathing even.

Suddenly, the police car jolted to a stop, hurling me forward in my seat.

We were there.

At the police station.

I swallowed hard, my heart pounding. I had promised my dad that I would never end up here, yet here I was.

One of the police officers, who I had nicknamed Blondie due to his blond curls, opened my door. And – since I had been leaning against the door – I was sent toppling onto the uneven sidewalk. I would have face-planted into the cement had it not been for my excellent reflexes.

I looked back at Blondie, but he was too busy trying to get Ethan – who seemed to be frozen in fear – out of the car. I huffed and pulled myself off the pavement, more annoyed than hurt.

"Single-file, please," ordered another cop – his name tag reading "Officer Hale."

His perfect posture and loud voice made me reluctant to follow his commands. I took my spot in front of Ethan, and Blondie walked beside me as if I might lash out at any moment and would need him to restrain me. I felt then a familiar, uneasy, tight feeling in my chest, which only reminded me of how I always felt around Adley.

She and I had never been super-close friends, but whenever I was with her, I would feel this tugging in my chest – a physical repulsion, like two magnets with their poles facing each other.

It always made me feel like I should run, but I didn't know why.

As Blondie shoved open the door to the police station, the smell of antiseptic immediately smacked me in the face. I flinched, scrunching up my nose. The officer seemed to notice my reaction and glared a warning my way.