Page 43 of Juniper Bean Resorts to Murder

“Where did the name Betty come from, anyway?” I say. I ignore the stares Hailey and Bethany are giving me, instead busying myself with unloading my lunch bag. Ham sandwich, bag of carrots, cheese stick. Not string cheese, because string cheese is gross—just a stick of cheddar cheese. I lay my food out neatly in front of me, and then I look at the Betties again.

Betties One and Two are still looking at me, thunderstruck. I don’t blame them; I never eat lunch in here, and when I come in for other reasons, I go out of my way to avoid this table. I don’t think I’ve ever initiated conversation with these women in my life.

Betty Number Three, though, isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at my lunch, her face twisted into some approximation of confusion. Then she points at my carrots.

“Are you eating those without ranch dressing?”

I freeze with my hand still outstretched to pick up my sandwich; Betties One and Two turn to look at her instead of me.

This is the first time I’ve ever heard her talk to anyone but her students. Ever.

“Um,” I say, like an idiot. “Yes.”

“Like, just by themselves? No hummus either? No dip?” she says, looking disgusted now. Her mouth is turned down into a frown; her dark eyes are still fixed on my lunch.

“Yes,” I say slowly. What is even happening right now? The first words I’ve ever heard her direct at me, and she’s asking about my carrot sticks?

“Huh,” she says. Then she shrugs and goes back to her own lunch.

For probably ten seconds, there’s absolute silence at the table. Betties One and Two are staring unflatteringly at Betty Three, and I’m regretting that I didn’t think to try hummus with my carrots.

Then Betty Two clears her throat, alerting me that she’s about to speak. I glance up just in time.

“So my name is Bethany,” she says. “And before Hailey came, Elizabeth was here—but obviously I like you a lot more than I liked Elizabeth,” Bethany adds quickly to Hailey. Then she turns back to me. “So Elizabeth thought since she was Elizabeth and I was Bethany, we should call ourselves the Betties.”

I blink at her. “Why not the Beths?”

“She said it didn’t have the same ring to it,” Bethany says sadly.

“Right,” I say. I shouldn’t have asked. I didn’t need to know. “Uh, I saw you guys at Homecoming. Outside, coming up the stairs from the track and field. Why weren’t you inside chaperoning?”

It’s not tactful. There’s no natural lead-in. But screw it; I’ve asked something I need to ask. All I can do is hope they answer.

“Uh,” Bethany says, her gaze darting to Hailey. The color drains from her face rapidly, something that spikes my pulse as my heart begins to beat faster. She shifts in her seat, looking more uncomfortable by the second. “Well. It was nothing. No reason.”

Hailey nudges her with her elbow, glaring. They exchange one more glance before Bethany digs into her salad, shoving more lettuce in her mouth than anyone realistically needs in one bite.

“Don’t worry about it,” Hailey says briskly. “We just needed some fresh air.” Unlike Bethany, she still has color in her cheeks—but her face is drawn, tense lines etched around her mouth and eyes. Then she, too, takes a bite of her food.

I stare at them, frankly dumbfounded. I don’t think they could be more suspicious if they tried. When I glance at Nessa, I can tell she’s thinking the same thing; her brows are drawn low over her eyes, her mouth turned down into a little frown.

“All right,” I say, because it doesn’t look like I’m going to get more of an answer than that, and I still have more questions. “Whatever. Did you guys have any absences today?”

The three of them look at me, each of them frowning slightly. Absences aren’t really something they sit and gossip about, apparently. I can’t help but notice, though, that both Hailey and Bethany visibly relax at the change in subject.

“I’ve had a couple,” Betty One/Hailey says. “Did you guys?”

“A few,” Betty Two/Bethany says with a shrug. Then she straightens up. “Oh,” she says, looking at Betty One with wide eyes. “But…Sandy wasn’t here.”

Betty One’s eyes dart from Betty Two to me and then back.

“Sandy?” I say quickly. That has to be Sandra von Meller, right? I clear my throat, trying to sound more casual as I ask, “Who’s Sandy? Is she a bad student or something?”

“No,” Betty One says dismissively after an awkward pause. “Her grades are fine. But she’s a stuck-up little rich girl, a beauty queen type. A complete snob.”

So…kind of like Betty One.

I do not say this.

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