Buzz Kill by Beth Fantaskey Read Free Book Online

summoned the mental or physical strength to . . .
    Right?
    Then a girl who I did think had the capacity to kill gave Mr. Woolsey a dose of reality. “This is the biggest story in the school’s history—discounting, of course, the fact that the place gives people cancer—”
    â€œHey!”
    Viv spoke over my protest. “There’s no way the
Gazette
—meaning
I
—am going to downplay it.” Then she turned on her high heel and walked out of the room. But apparently she wasn’t quite done with me yet. Apparently there were certain things that even Vivienne Fitch wouldn’t say in front of a teacher and an administrator, and I found her waiting for me when I left a few moments later, after stopping to grab a handful of Werther’s Originals from a bowl on Mr. Woolsey’s desk.
    â€œWhat do you want now?” I demanded, rounding a corner to discover Viv lurking there, like a very aptly named booby trap. “What?”
    â€œJust in case I wasn’t clear, back in Mr. Woolsey’s office,” she informed me. “Your streak of dumb—and I mean really dumb—luck is over, Ostermeyer. I am going to win a
real
Pacemaker—the one for investigative reporting, not lame, weepy features. And in the process, I plan to make sure that your dad doesn’t walk away from this, if he’s involved—as I suspect. Not like how he got off scot free for building a death trap of a school.”
    For a moment, I couldn’t speak. And not just because I had a mouth full of candy, which I spat into my hand so she’d hear me very clearly when I advised her, in a growl, “You have just declared
war,
Vivienne Fitch. And you will be
incredibly sorry
you just said that about my father.”
    She didn’t seem scared. She just smiled in her superior, evil way, then stalked off again, while I watched her with narrowed eyes, certain that she was underestimating me.
    I
wasn’t
the most ambitious student. I didn’t join clubs or worry unduly about grades. I definitely wasn’t Ivy League bound like Viv. Instead I planned to backpack around the world after high school. Or maybe take a nice nap.
    But I really, really didn’t like it when my family—or what was left of it—got attacked. My dad and I didn’t have the greatest relationship. I was pretty sure some days he thought I was too much like Mom, and therefore painful to even look at. Other times, I knew I drove him nuts just by being . . . me. And I didn’t get my father, either. Didn’t get why he was so into “playing by the book.” But Dad was mine to complain about. And I was the only one who could accuse him of
anything.
    Standing in the hallway, I popped my candy back into my mouth, crossed my arms, and continued to watch Viv, thinking,
We’ll see who controls this story, Vivienne Fitch.
    I also kind of wondered if my archrival, who knew my propensity for accidentally one-upping her, might just want to keep me from investigating because she was afraid I’d dig up some dirt on her.
    Then, although school wasn’t exactly over, I went to my locker and grabbed my backpack because I had someplace to go—and someone to consult about how to solve a murder.

Chapter 10
    â€œMillie, these are unusual choices for someone even with your eclectic tastes,” Ms. Isabel Parkins observed, swiping her library checkout laser gun over the bar codes inside
How to Solve a Murder: The Forensic Handbook
and
Do-It-Yourself Detective.
“I can only assume this sudden interest in detection has something to do with you finding Mr. Killdare’s body.”
    â€œYes,” I said, placing
Inside the Mind of a Psychopath
and
The Psycho Killer Next Door
on the counter, too. “It might also have something to do with besting Vivienne Fitch.”
    I could tell that my librarian-slash-confidante was intrigued. Her dark eyebrows arched over her funky,