The Spite Game Read online

  Everyone does bad things when no one is watching

  Mercilessly bullied in high school, Ava knows she needs to put the past behind her and move on, but she can’t—not until she’s exacted precise, catastrophic revenge on the people who hurt her the most.

  First, she watches Saanvi. Flawlessly chic and working hard at a top architectural firm, Saanvi has it all together on the surface. But everyone does bad things when they think no one is watching and Ava only wants what’s fair—to destroy Saanvi’s life the way her own was destroyed.

  Next, she watches Cass. She’s there as Cass tries on wedding dresses, she’s there when Cass picks out a cake, she’s there when Cass betrays her fiancé. She’s the reason Cass’s entire future comes crashing down.

  Finally, Ava watches Mel. Mel was always the ringleader and if anyone has to pay, it’s her. But one tiny slipup and Ava realizes the truth: Mel knows she’s being watched, and she’s ready to play Ava’s games to the bitter end.

  Praise for the novels of Anna Snoekstra

  “Little Secrets is both twisty and twisted, a portrait of the ugly secrets simmering in a dying town. Snoekstra writes an original tale that is mysterious and dark but also touching and true.”

  —Janelle Brown, New York Times bestselling author of Watch Me Disappear

  “A smart and compulsive psychological thriller with an original, engaging, and ultimately surprising protagonist. I couldn’t put it down!”

  —Graeme Simsion, New York Times bestselling author of The Rosie Project, on Little Secrets

  “Twisty, slippery, and full of surprises, this web of lies will ensnare you and keep you riveted until you’ve turned the final page.”

  —Lisa Unger, New York Times bestselling author of Ink and Bone, on Little Secrets

  “Snoekstra’s excellent debut stands out in the crowded psychological suspense field with smart, subtle red herrings and plenty of dark and violent secrets.”

  —Library Journal, starred review, on Only Daughter

  “Truly distinctive and tautly told, Only Daughter welcomes a thrilling new voice in crime fiction.”

  —Mary Kubica, New York Times bestselling author of The Good Girl

  “Unreliable narrator thrillers are practically a subgenre of their own, and there are two unreliable narrators here as well as a wickedly twisted and fast-paced plot that leaves numerous questions unanswered... Readers who enjoy a creepy thriller that will keep them guessing will be unable to put this down.”

  —Booklist, starred review, on Only Daughter

  “A must-read for fans of Lisa Gardner and Gilly Macmillan, and is sure to be enjoyed by most mystery lovers.”

  —BookPage on Only Daughter

  “A suspenseful, multi-layered puzzle, and the characters are complex and emotionally damaged, making this dark and twisted tale a veritable page-turner.”

  —RT Book Reviews on Only Daughter

  Also by Anna Snoekstra

  Little Secrets

  Only Daughter

  The Spite Game

  Anna Snoekstra

  For Joan Robyn Bruce.

  Contents

  Part 1

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  Part 2

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  Part 3

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  Part 4

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  Part 5

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  Part 6

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  Part 7

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  Part 8

  45

  46

  47

  48

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Part 1

  LACK OF EMPATHY

  2008

  1

  It began in the change room. The bodies of sweaty adolescent girls, the steam of the showers and the intensity of emotions gave the room a living pulse. The bad thing inside me took root there. Like mold, it grew in that hot, moist place.

  The change room always stank of sweat and strawberry body spray. I slipped my T-shirt over my head, and then slid my sport top off from underneath. Ignoring the squeaks of rubber soles against the wet floors and the cackles and chides of the girls around me, I tried to tune my ears into the conversation going on in the corner. I only caught snippets.

  “...so filthy.”

  “...bet her bush was poking out the sides and...”

  “...pervert...really, Mel...”

  I sneaked a glance. Cass and Saanvi leaned against the wall, decked out in their oversize Doc Marten boots, undersized flannel dresses and thick black stockings. Mel reclined in the corner in just her boots, bra and underwear, braiding a piece of her hair.

  Other girls begun disbanding.

  “See you later!”

  “See you in English.”

  “Bye.”

  I could hear them clearly now. Cass’s soft voice: “She kept trying to demonstrate how to do a jump serve right in front of my face.”

  “That’s disgusting.”

  “Come on, it’s almost showtime.” Saanvi threw Mel her dress. She tucked the braid behind her ear and pulled it on.

  They whispered something I couldn’t hear, and laughed, their eyes darting around the change room. I look around too. Almost everyone had gone. The only girl left aside from us was Miranda. She fumbled with something in her bag, her wide back to us. Really, she was just waiting to get changed. There was no way she would risk exposing the rolls of fat on her stomach if anyone else was there, not after what happened last time.

  Throwing my PE clothes into my backpack, I walked out of the change room before they noticed me. In high school, eavesdropping was a cardinal sin. Out on the oval, the sun glinted off the wet grass. It must have rained. Summer was long gone; it had been three months since I’d woken to the man standing over my bed. He had run off when I screamed, back through the living room window. The frame had been rotted ever since we moved in, and like most of the other windows in our house, the lock didn’t work. Mum had been on at the landlords for years to fix those locks. It was the last straw. We were moving in a couple weeks. At home, most of my clothes were packed into boxes.

  Not that it mattered. I wore the same thin gray hooded jacket every day. I’d pull the sleeves down over my hands and constantly fiddle with the drawstrings. I washed my hair every day and didn’t think to use any product, so I always looked a bit fluffy, like a newborn chicken. Skirts or shorts were out of the equation because I still hadn’t quite mastered shaving my legs. Somehow I would always both nick myself and miss bits, so my calves were a mix of tiny cuts around the ankles and sparse, furry patches down the back.

  What I want to explain to you is that Mel, Cass and Saanvi were in a different league to me. It wasn’t a popularity thing. They weren’t the queen bees of the school or anything lik
e that, although compared to me they may as well have been. No, it wasn’t popularity that I craved. There was something luminescent about the three of them. They were the sort of teenage girls who knew their power and potential. I had no idea what I was doing and was painfully aware of it. Just watching them—and daydreaming of the kind of girl I could be if I was their friend—that was as close as I ever thought I’d get.

  I’d paused, only for a moment, to smell the wet grass and zip up my hoodie, when a hand gripped my arm.

  “If anyone comes in, you stop them, okay, Ava?” Saanvi was beside me, talking in a loud whisper. I could smell something sugary on her hot breath.

  “What?” This was the first time she’d ever spoken to me.

  “Don’t let anyone in!” she hissed, then, “Idiot!” as she turned back into the change room.

  I hovered in the doorway. A few stragglers skittered toward the gym, but no one even looked up. A tiny smile tugged at my lips. She knew my name, which meant Mel and Cass probably did too. Maybe I wasn’t as invisible as I always felt. She’d called me an idiot, but somehow that didn’t bother me. I’d prefer to be an idiot than no one.

  It was silent behind me, and my view was obscured by a row of lockers. I had no idea what I’d do if anyone tried to get past me, or what they were doing that was so secret that no one could see. I took a quiet step back to look behind the lockers. Inside the change room, Mel, Cass and Saanvi were hiding in one of the showers, all squashed together and covering their mouths with their hands to stop from laughing. Miranda was still in her spot in the farthest corner; she couldn’t see them from there. She thought everyone had left. Her top came off over her head, revealing her pale doughy torso.

  She looked up, as though she could feel that someone was watching her. I ducked back out of view to the doorway, worried she might catch me looking.

  Still, no one was around. No one to challenge me or try to squeeze past. I was going to be late to math class. I didn’t really want to be a part of whatever they were about to do, but also I didn’t want them thinking that I was too much of a scaredy-cat to stick it out. The indecision made me freeze, hovering with one foot forward.

  The idea of going back in and stopping it didn’t even occur to me.

  A scream echoed its way toward me. It was followed by a chorus of shrieking laughter. I couldn’t help turning back again, although a big part of me really didn’t want to see. Cass and Saanvi were throwing wet-looking gray lumps at Miranda, who was desperately trying to cover her body. Mel had her hand over her mouth in shock, but underneath her hand I could see a smile.

  One of the lumps splattered a few meters away from me. It was a piece of mashed-up Chiko Roll, the meat and bits of carrot shiny with oil.

  “Oink! Oink! Oink!” chanted Saanvi and Cass.

  “Stop it, guys!” Mel protested, a laugh in her voice.

  The three girls ran toward me. Mel grabbed my arm.

  “Come on!”

  I took one look back at Miranda, cowering and smeared with mashed-up meat, before I was pulled away with them.

  Cass and Saanvi exploded with laughter as we ran toward the main school.

  “That was so mean!” said Mel.

  “Fuck off,” Saanvi said, “you loved it!”

  We stopped at the doors to catch our breath.

  “You won’t tell, will you?” Cass fixed her big eyes on me.

  “Of course she won’t!” Mel let go of my arm and grinned at me.

  I shook my head.

  “Nah, I won’t say anything.”

  “Better not.” Saanvi flung her bag over her shoulder and the three of them walked away.

  “See ya!” Mel called back, looking over her shoulder at me.

  I knew what I had to do, but I waited for there to be a few meters between us. Then, I jogged back toward the gym. My stomach was knotting with guilt.

  When I reached the entrance to the girl’s change room, I hesitated. My face was hot from running, and my ears cold. Slowly, I stepped inside, already fidgeting with the drawstring of my hoodie. With the fresh air in my nostrils, the stink of stale sweat and meat was revolting.

  For a second I thought that maybe she’d gone. But no. One of the showers was running, and, just faintly, I could hear the sound of crying. I stood in the middle of the change room, frozen. Should I knock, ask if she was okay? Or would that just humiliate her more? The image popped in my head again, of her naked flesh smeared with oily meat and chunks of vegetables. I turned and walked back out toward my math class. I told myself it was the nicest thing to do, but deep down I knew that wasn’t it. I knew that I wasn’t giving her privacy because I pitied her.

  Deep down, I was disgusted by her weakness. Deep down, I didn’t even care, and that scared me.

  2

  “Do you want a glass of water or anything?”

  The cop from the front desk is standing in the doorway of the interview room, staring at me. Behind him, it’s bright. I can see the bustling station, police in uniform bent over desks or answering phones, detectives in suits walking swiftly, their backs stiff with self-importance. Not like in here, with its dull fluorescent lights and one small window.

  When he’d led me through that office, one of the policewomen had looked up from her paperwork. She’d given me what seemed to be a reassuring smile. I’d gaped at her. It took a second to click. She’d clocked my small frame. My thick-lashed eyes. She thought I was a victim. It was almost funny.

  “I’m okay. Do you know how long the detective will be?”

  He shrugs. “Hard to say. Today has been nonstop.”

  Is this a ploy? I don’t understand. Have you sent him in here to sound me out? Or maybe he’s offering me water in the hope of getting my DNA off the glass? I’ve seen them doing things like that before in cop shows. I thought it was just an overused trope by lazy disenchanted screenwriters, but now I wonder if it’s something that really happens.

  “Sure you don’t want anything? I’m sure I could scrounge up a tea bag from somewhere. There’s coffee too, if you’re game.”

  The guy is probably only a year or so older than me. He’s being pleasant enough, but I want him to go. I don’t want to play these games. It doesn’t have to be complicated. I want to talk. I want to explain it all, to make you understand. I’ve been weak before. That time in the change room with Miranda, I was spineless. Not being liked seemed as though it would be the worst thing in the world.

  For once in my life I want to do the right thing.

  “I’m fine,” I tell the cop, and he shrugs again.

  I could still run. I could push past him, say I got mixed up. Made a mistake. That I don’t know anything about Mel. That I have no idea where she is. I could give in to that weakness one last time.

  “Well, thanks for your patience,” he’s saying now.

  All I can do is look past him at the light as he gives me one last lukewarm smile and pulls the door closed. The light and sounds of the station are snuffed out. I’m alone again in the gloom.

  Twisting in my chair, I stare up at the window. The sky is a pale blue. I watch the gray clouds inch across it. Time feels meaningless in here.

  I’m in the right place. I’m sure of it. As hard as this is going to be it’s got to be easier than the last few weeks have been. I haven’t been able to eat. I’ve had nightmares every night. My skin is turning gray. I look pinched.

  Still, I should have said something when I left this morning. That’s my only regret. I’d said I was going to a meeting with the contractors. That it might run late. I didn’t want to lie; I’ve told more lies than truths in the last ten years and I wanted today to be the end of all that. But I couldn’t say that I was coming here. If I had, I would have had to explain why. What happened. I only have it in me to tell this story once.

  * * *

  I’d started
to feel carsick by the time we got there. We’d been driving through solid bushland for more than an hour before we reached those big ugly gates from the brochure. Lakeside Estate was written in block letters on the wall next to them.

  “Beautiful,” I said.

  “It is,” my mum said.

  “She’s being sarcastic,” Bea told her.

  “I can tell.”

  The wall went farther than I could see. All the way around the estate and back to here. Locking us in. My mum pressed the intercom and told them our surname. Only the sound of static replied to her. She keyed in a code and there was a loud buzz. We drove inside.

  I don’t know what I had been expecting, but it sure wasn’t this. I’d realized then why my mum had gotten the house so cheap. The gated community wasn’t even complete yet. As we drove up the hill she told us that the company had gone bankrupt, which had put a halt on the building. She said it would be finished; they just didn’t know when.

  Even though the sun was out, it was cold outside. It bounced off the concrete, making us all squint. The hollow convenience store looked as though it was the first to be built; it stood beside the skeletons of a primary school and community center. We drove past a deep brown basin. I guessed that was meant to be the lake. A group of crows scavenged at the overturned soil.

  “Paradise,” I said.

  “Not helpful,” said my mum.

  I looked back in time to see the gates shut and lock behind us.

  As we got farther up the hill, the houses started to look more completed. There must have been at least a few other people living here, but I didn’t see anyone. There weren’t even any other cars around.

  * * *

  Inside, our new house was empty. Just freshly painted white walls and cream carpet that smelled of plastic. I followed Bea up the stairs.

  “My room!” she called. I walked hesitantly past it to the next door. Opening the door, I could see my new room was a small white box. Claustrophobic, even without furniture. The sun shone through the blinds, casting strange black shadows across the room, like bars.

  “Girls, come and help me with the boxes!” my mum yelled from downstairs.