Cape Bonita Prep is an exclusive school in a wealthy North California small town where the Larks reign supreme. The Larks is an organisation led by the students for volunteering and charity work. The Larks consists of ten girls -- five seniors, five juniors -- who are the brightest, the prettiest, the most popular; the elite of tomorrow. The Larks are also mean girls, and someone wants those mean girls dead. Penelope Malone, the Larks' president, is as shocked as everybody else when the principal gathers the student population in the gym to announce that one of their female jewels has been murdered. Some mean girls however, are meaner than others, and not everyone is equally traumatized, as there will be more PRETTY DEAD GIRLS...
Who knew that Monica Murphy could write a murder mystery of such quality! When my prime suspect was murdered, I was at a loss, and this is telling as I'm difficult to lead astray and hard to please when it comes to murder mysteries; until the very end, I really didn't know who was trustworthy. PRETTY DEAD GIRLS very fast-paced, and it is masterfully plotted, which rather surprised me since the book is billed as a YA novel and I did not expect such a tightly woven story. PRETTY DEAD GIRLS is actually a first-class romantic suspense whose protagonists are adolescents; that's the extent of the "Young Adult" angle, as I see it. Ms. Murphy captures the high school atmosphere, the cliques, and teenage behavior so accurately, that it felt eerily familiar to me, apart from the wealth and the murders. I appreciate that the author didn't have Penelope change dramatically along the way; Penelope might not be the meanest girl, but she's definitely not someone you want against you!
The romance between Penelope and her hunky physics classmate Cass Vincenti also felt genuine; given the context, his past, and that "Pen" is not Miss Congeniality, their relationship is filled with doubts, it is tempestuous, but also tender; it was just right. I'm not focusing so much on the romance, even though it is an essential part of the plot, because the suspense angle is just that terrific. I was a tad miffed though that one of the two heroic characters at the end was metaphorically shoved out of the way, but it is an infinitesimal detail with regards to the whole story.
I suppose I qualify as a mean girl myself because, in a way, I thought there was some poetic justice in there. I hope Monica Murphy continues in this vein, because there is a dearth of exceptional murder mysteries/romantic suspense authors, and I feel Ms. Murphy has the chops to reach the very top. PRETTY DEAD GIRLS is a fantastic book, and I wish the first of many in this genre from the author. Again, Brava, Monica Murphy!
Beautiful. Perfect. Dead.
In the peaceful seaside town of Cape Bonita, wicked secrets
and lies are hidden just beneath the surface. But all it
takes is one tragedy for them to be exposed.
The most popular girls in school are turning up dead, and
Penelope Malone is terrified she's next. All the victims so
far have been linked to Penelopeβand to a boy from her
physics class. The one she's never really noticed before,
with the rumored dark past and a brooding stare that cuts
right through her.
There's something he isn't telling her. But there's
something she's not telling him, either.
Everyone has secrets, and theirs might get them killed.
βThat car is still trailing us.β
Glancing in the side mirror, I see that the car is behind us.
Cass chooses that moment to take a curve extra fast, making the
tires squeal, and I gasp. βYouβre scaring me,β I murmur. It feels
like my heart just flew into my throat.
βJust wait. What I really want to do is going to scare you even
more,β he says cryptically.
βWhat do you want to do?β
βYouβll have to trust me on this.β
βOkay.β I clamp my lips shut. I shouldnβt automatically agree,
right? Iβm still having trust issues, even though Iβd never say
that out loud. This entire day has been confusing. I donβt know
who to believe anymore.
βNo demanding we back out once we commit,β he says, his gaze
never wavering from the road. βThatβs a surefire way to get
ourselves hurt.β
His words are ominous. Like a warning. βFine. Iβm all in.β
He eases up on the gas pedal, just the slightest bit. The car
slows, the vehicle behind us drawing closer. So close I swear it
looks like itβs going to eat the back bumper. βI donβt want you
to freak out.β
βOh my God, Cass.β Why is he slowing down? βJust tell me.β
βYou have to promise me one thing first.β His gaze meets mine,
lingering a moment too long. He should be watching the road, not
staring at me. βSay youβll promise.β
βI promise,β I readily agree, frowning. βBut what am I
promising?β
Heβs staring straight ahead once more, his fingers sliding over
the steering wheel, almost like a caress. βYou canβt scream.β
What?
βI mean it. No screaming. No yelling. You must remain quiet. I
need you to trust me, Pen.β He hesitates, his voice dropping
lower. βDo you trust me?β
Do I? Heβs already asked me once and I said yes, but the doubt
still creeps in. He scares me a little. He alsoβGod, I am so
ridiculous thinking this, butβhe turns me on. He does. Thereβs
something about him. He has this edge that other boys donβt have.
And when he touches me, kisses meβ¦
Iβd probably do just about anything he asks me to.
So how can I doubt him when weβve already gone this far together?
βI wonβt scream,β I tell him quietly. βAnd I wonβt yell. I
promise.β
βOkay.β He nods once, then hisses out a breath between his teeth.
I chance a glance at him, the way his dark hair falls over his
forehead, how heβs squinting his eyes. What heβs about to do,
whatβs about to happen, feelsβ¦dangerous. βHere it goes.β
With a flick of his wrist he turns the carβs headlights off.
Like, completely off. The road goes dark. I suck in a breath,
hold it until I feel like itβs choking me. He hits the gas pedal
hard, the SUV roaring to life as he flies down the road. A
dangerous, winding road where multiple car crashes occur every
year. The windows are down, the wind blows through my hair,
blasts against my face, and I close my eyes.
Iβm scared, and I canβt make a sound. Not a peep. I hold onto the
handle right above the window, gripping it with both hands as
Cass takes the twisty road with ease. My gaze is trained on the
side mirror and I watch for the car lights behind us.
Theyβre still there.
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