{"product_id":"the-wicked-girls-isbn-9780143123866","title":"The Wicked Girls","description":"\u003cb\u003e“The suspense keeps the pages flying, but what sets this one apart is the palpable sense of onrushing doom.” —Stephen King, “The Best Books I Read This Year”\u003cb\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003eThe Edgar Award-winning psychological thriller that asks the question: how well can you truly know anyone?\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/b\u003eOn a fateful summer morning in 1986, two eleven-year-old girls meet for the first time. By the end of the day, they will both be charged with murder. Twenty-five years later, journalist Kirsty Lindsay is reporting on a series of sickening attacks on young female tourists in a seaside vacation town when her investigation leads her to interview carnival cleaner Amber Gordon. For Kirsty and Amber, it’s the first time they’ve seen each other since that dark day so many years ago. Now with new, vastly different lives—and unknowing families to protect—will they really be able to keep their wicked secret hidden?\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003eGripping and fast-paced, with an ending that will stay with you long after you’ve read it, \u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e takes you to a thrillingly dark place you’ve never been before. For fans of Gillian Flynn, Liane Moriarty, and Tana French.\u003cp\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e\u003ci\u003e“The Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e is ingenious and original. Real, chilling, true to its world and its characters. In short, a knock-out.” —Laura Lippman, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eAnd When She Was Good \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eWhat the Dead Know\u003c\/i\u003e \u003c\/b\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e“The suspense keeps the pages flying, but what sets this one apart is the palpable sense of onrushing doom.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Stephen King, “The Best Books I Read This Year,” \u003ci\u003eEntertainment Weekly \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “Harrowing. . . . While the received wisdom on violence committed by children seems to be that ‘some people just are born evil,’ Marwood makes a strong case that these crimes are more likely rooted in poverty, abuse and parental abandonment.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Marilyn Stasio, \u003ci\u003eThe New York Times Book Review\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e  \u003cbr\u003e “The swirling mass of perceptions and happenings behind the main drama of Kirsty and Amber’s past crime is what makes \u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e more than a plot-driven mystery novel. (Not that it isn’t also that; Marwood sacrifices no speed, no engaging details or cliffhangers for the sake of the book’s spiky undercurrent.)”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eThe Rumpus\u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “In addition to being an excellent intelligent dark thriller in the vein of Gillian Flynn, \u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e presents an intriguing insider’s account of salacious British tabloid journalism.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBoingBoing \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e   \u003cbr\u003e “[Alex] Marwood is equally at home with terrifying, potentially violent scenes and quieter ones revealing the tensions of work and family life. She is also adept at depicting the subtle and not so subtle ways differences in class shape the lives of the girls and the women they’ve become.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eColumbus Dispatch\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “The pacing is whip-smart. . . . \u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e makes a compelling novel not easily forgotten.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eSouth Florida Sun Sentinel \u003c\/i\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e \u003cbr\u003e “Riveting from first page to last. . . . A suspenseful, buzz-worthy novel.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eKirkus \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “If Tana French and Gillian Flynn stayed up all night telling stories at an abandoned amusement park, this is awfully close to what they might come up with.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—\u003ci\u003eBooklist \u003c\/i\u003e(starred review)\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e    \u003cbr\u003e\u003ci\u003e“The Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e is ingenious and original—a novel that surprises and rewards its readers, delivering a twist of an ending that I never saw coming, then realized it was the only ending that could truly satisfy. Real, chilling, true to its world and its characters. In short, a knock-out.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Laura Lippman, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eAnd When She Was Good \u003c\/i\u003eand \u003ci\u003eWhat the Dead Know\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e “\u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e is utterly compelling. It’s psychologically rich, complex and masterfully plotted. I couldn't put it down, even when I sensed it was taking me somewhere very dark indeed. I can't wait to see what Alex Marwood comes up with next.”\u003cbr\u003e\u003cb\u003e—Jojo Moyes, \u003ci\u003eNew York Times \u003c\/i\u003ebestselling author of \u003ci\u003eMe Before You\u003c\/i\u003e and \u003ci\u003eAfter You\u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/b\u003e\u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e\u003cbr\u003e \u003cbr\u003e  \u003cb\u003eAlex Marwood\u003c\/b\u003e is the pseudonym of a journalist who has worked extensively across the British press. Her first novel, \u003ci\u003eThe Wicked Girls\u003c\/i\u003e, won the Edgar Award for Best Paperback Original, and was nominated for the Macavity Award for Best Mystery Novel and the Anthony and ITW Awards for Best Paperback Original. \u003ci\u003eThe Killer Next Door\u003c\/i\u003e, her second novel, won a Macavity Award for Best Mystery Novel, was nominated for the Anthony and Barry, and has been optioned for film by James Franco and Ahna O’Reilly. Her third novel, \u003ci\u003eThe Darkest Secret\u003c\/i\u003e, was published in 2016. Marwood lives in south London.\u003cp\u003eThe girl is dead. She doesn’t need to go near her to see that. Chinless, sightless, rag-doll dead. Wearing a striped tank top and a tube skirt; both have gathered around her waist, puppy-fat breasts and white thighs reflected in the mirrors, back, back, back to infinity.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmber is not looking directly at the body. She’s nowhere near, in fact. She’s cleaned the mirror maze so often that she knows its tricks and turns, the way a figure at the far end of the building can seem, when you enter, to be standing right in front of you.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eOr – in the case of the dead girl – half lying, her head and shoulders pressed against the wall.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmber grips the door frame, struggles to breathe. Oh shit, she thinks. Why did I have to find her?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe can’t be more than seventeen. The mottled face – the mouth half open as though she is trying, one more time, to take a breath – still has traces of unformed childhood around the jaw. Blonde hair, blown and flicked up. Giant hoop earrings. Eyes made huge by half a pot of electric-blue eyeshadow, glitter gel spangling the naked \u003ci\u003edécolletage\u003c\/i\u003e. Platform boots, improbable in the angles they form with the mirrored floor.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe’s been at Stardust, thinks Amber. Saturday. It’s Seventies night at Stardust.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe feels sick. Glances behind her through the open door and sees that the concourse is empty. As though all her colleagues have dropped off the edge of the world.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe steps inside and closes the door to block out the light. Doesn’t want anyone else to see. Not yet. Not while shock has ripped her mask away.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThank God I’m wearing rubber gloves, she thinks nonsensically. She has cleaned the place every night for the past three years and, however careful she is, her fingerprints will be all over it. Let alone the prints of half the visitors who’ve passed through since this time last night. They try to keep the smudges down by handing out disposable plastic gloves on the door, but you can’t actually force someone to wear them; can’t police the interior 24\/7.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eInnfinnityland is the only attraction Amber cleans herself, since her promotion. The place makes everyone uneasy, as though they are afraid that they will get lost and never find their way back, or that the mirrors themselves are infected with ghosts. Too many times the work, which needs to be autistically methodical, has been rushed and skimped, and smears have remained; and in a place like this, a single smear becomes an infinite number, the original hard to track down if you’re not working your way through, fingertip by fingertip, glass by glass. She decided long ago that it was easiest simply to do it herself. Wishes fervently now that she hadn’t.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe girl has green eyes, like Amber’s own. Her handbag –mock-croc – has fallen open and scattered poignant remnants of plans made, hopes cherished. A lipstick, a bottle of JLo, a pink phone with a metallic charm shaped like a stiletto court shoe . . .breezy statements of identity, turned tawdry beneath their owner’s glassy stare.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThere is no blood. Just the impression of squeezing fingers livid on her neck. This is the third one this year, Amber thinks. It can’t be a coincidence. Two is coincidence; three is . . . oh, you poor child.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmber is cold to the bone, though the night is warm. She edges her way forward slowly, like an old person, one shaking hand supporting her against the mirrors as she moves. As she advances, new reflections cross her sight line: a million corpses strewn across a hall of infinite size.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThen suddenly, herself. Face white, eyes large, mouth a thin line. Standing above the body like Lady Macbeth.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat were you going to do? Touch her?\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThe thought freezes her to the spot. She’s not been thinking. Shock has turned her into a creature of instinct, an automaton. Has made her forgetful.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eWhat are you doing? You can’t be involved. You can’t. Anonymous. You’re meant to be anonymous. Get involved, they’ll work it out. Who you are. And once they know who you are…\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe feels panic start up inside. The edgy tingle, the queasy itch. Familiar, never far from the surface. She needs to decide quickly.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eI can’t be the one to find her.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe begins to back away. Feels her way back to the entrance. The dead girl gazes at infinity. Damn you, Amber thinks, suddenly angry. Why did you have to get yourself killed here? What are you even doing here, anyway? It’s been closed for hours. The park’s been closed for hours.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe catches her own thoughts and lets out a barking, ironic laugh. ‘Shit,’ she says out loud. ‘Oh God, what am I meant to do?’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eGo and find help. Do what anyone would do, Amber. Go out there and act the way you feel: shocked and scared. No one’s going to ask questions. There’s someone killing girls in this town, but it doesn’t mean they’ll recognise who \u003ci\u003eyou\u003c\/i\u003e are.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eBut they’ll take your photo. You know what the press are like. Anything to fill their pages; details to make up for lack of facts. You’ll be all over the papers as the woman who found the body.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e\u003ci\u003eI can’t do this. \u003c\/i\u003e\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eSomeone tries the entrance door, the sudden noise of the handle turning uselessly making her jump. She hears Jackie and Moses: Jackie chattering and flirting, Moses responding in monosyllables, but the smile clear in his voice.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘She’s always in here,’ says Jackie. ‘After tea break. Amber? You in there? The door’s locked!’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eAmber holds her breath, afraid that even the sound of her exhalation will call to them. Oh God, what do I do? I’ve got to get out of here.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘C’mon,’ says Jackie. ‘Let’s try the back. Maybe she’s taking a break.’\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003e‘Sure,’ says Moses.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eThat’s it, there’s no escape now. She hears their footsteps recede down the steps as they walk off towards the entrance to the service alley. Two minutes before they get here, maybe. She can’t get away, can’t undo the moment of discovery.\u003c\/p\u003e\u003cp\u003eShe straightens up, steps over the girl’s marionette legs and hurries to the emergency exit hidden behind the black curtain beyond. Best they find her out on the steps, out in the fresh air, throwing up.\u003c\/p\u003e","brand":"Penguin Books","offers":[{"title":"Default Title","offer_id":46302855528677,"sku":"NP9780143123866","price":18.0,"currency_code":"USD","in_stock":false}],"thumbnail_url":"\/\/cdn.shopify.com\/s\/files\/1\/1842\/7735\/files\/9780143123866.jpg?v=1767742207","url":"https:\/\/k12savings.com\/es\/products\/the-wicked-girls-isbn-9780143123866","provider":"K12savings","version":"1.0","type":"link"}