One of Us Is Next

by Karen McManus

  Jules flips the sun visor down and peers into its mirror, running a finger under each eye to catch microscopic mascara flecks. “Whatever. Maybe I should go for Brandon now that he’s available.”

  My stomach lurches as I turn in to the Bayview High parking lot. “Jules. No.” I didn’t tell her about Brandon assaulting me at my apartment, but she has to know he’s the one who put up the sex tutor ad. And she definitely saw him crack up when Sean made fun of me. I can’t believe she’d joke about hooking up with him after that. Or, even worse—not joke.

  “Slow down, Phoebe Jeebies, or you’re going to hit that guy.” Jules narrows her eyes at the tall, skinny boy who passes in front of the car. “Oh, never mind, it’s Matthias Schroeder. Go ahead and mow that freak down.” She tucks a strand of pin-straight hair behind her ear; she’s been using a flat iron ever since the night she kissed Nate. “Such a weirdo. He looks like he beats off to erotic Star Wars fanfic, don’t you think?”

  I press my brakes, a vein in my temple starting to throb. Jules is punchy today, her teasing skirting the edge of mean in a way it doesn’t usually. I roll down my window and call, “Sorry, Matthias!” He looks startled and darts away. “I try not to think about him, period,” I mutter as I navigate into a parking space.

  We get out of the car and head for the back entrance. I drop my keys into my bag as Jules checks her phone. “I thought we’d have another text from Unknown by now,” she says.

  I freeze. “What?”

  “You know. The next player has been contacted. Tick-tock.”

  She grins, and the last of my patience runs out. “I wouldn’t know, because I’m not playing,” I snap, yanking the door open. “That stopped being a super fun game as soon as it made Emma hate me, and it’s only gone downhill from there. But you do you, I guess.”

  “You need to chill,” Jules says as I stomp into the hallway. I don’t bother telling her to find another ride home. I’m sure she was planning on it anyway.

  School is almost over before I run into Knox in person, but I’ve seen the taunts left for him all day. Limp dick pictures are everywhere. The noodles are gone from his locker, but when I pass by it on the way to health class—which is the only class he and I have together—a giant pill bottle with VIAGRA scrawled across the front is duct-taped there instead.

  I slow as I approach, feeling a tug in my chest as I watch Knox yank the bottle off and stuff it into his locker. Health class is going to be horrible for him. We’re covering the male reproductive system, which is bad enough on a normal day, but torture on one like this. Especially since Brandon and Sean are both in the class. Impulsively, I walk over and tap Knox on the shoulder. He flinches and turns, and looks relieved when he sees it’s only me.

  “Hi,” I say. “Wanna skip?”

  His brow furrows. “Huh?”

  “Do you want to skip last period?” I dig into my bag and pull out my keys, spinning them on one finger. “I have a car today.”

  Knox looks utterly confused. “What do … how does that even work?”

  “We leave school instead of going to class, and go someplace fun instead,” I say, enunciating each word slowly. “It’s not rocket science, Knox.”

  His eyes dart around the hallway, like we just committed a felony and the authorities are closing in. “Won’t we get in trouble?” he asks.

  I shrug. “It’s not a big deal if you aren’t chronic about it. Your parents get a robocall, and you tell them you went to the nurse’s office, but it was really busy and she never checked you in.” I spin the keys faster. “Or, you could just go to health class.”

  At this point, I’m kind of hoping he says no. It starts to hit me, as everyone who passes us stares, that I’m going to bring all kinds of shit down on myself by being seen with him today. But then Knox slams his locker door closed and says, “The hell with it. Let’s go.”

  No backing out now.

  I keep my eyes straight ahead as we walk down the hall, willing myself not to run for the exit. There’s a hushed, urgent voice in my head that sounds a lot like the narrator in a wildlife show I used to watch with my dad: Rapid movement will only draw attention from the hungry pack. Behind us, I hear Brandon hoot about something, but we’re too far away for it to be us. I think. Still, I’m relieved when we push through the doors of the back stairwell.

  “Welcome to your life of crime,” I say to Knox as we exit the building into a light sprinkling of rain. His eyes widen, and I roll mine. “It’s not an actual crime, Knox. Have you seriously never skipped a class before?”

  “No,” he admits as we descend the stairs. “I’ve gotten the perfect attendance award for two years running.” He grimaces. “I have no idea why I just told you that. Pretend I didn’t.” There’s a faint clanging noise ahead of us, and we both pause as someone jumps over the back fence behind the parking lot. I recognize Matthias Schroeder’s tall frame and pale-blue hoodie just before he lopes into the woods behind school. Looks like we’re not the only ones skipping health class. It’s a nightmare for nerdy guys everywhere.

  When we reach the car, Knox pulls on the handle like he’s expecting it to be open, but our Corolla’s power locks failed years ago. I unlock my door, climb into the driver’s seat, and reach over to let him in. “So, where are we going?” he asks.

  I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I start the engine and turn on the windshield wipers against what’s now a steady rain. “Well, it’s not very nice out, so we can forget about the beach or a park,” I say, navigating for the exit. “We could drive to San Diego if you want. There’s this coffee shop I like that has live music some afternoons. The only thing is—” I’m so busy talking that I don’t notice I’m about to pull into the main road while a car is passing, and I have to slam the brakes to avoid it. Knox and I both lurch forward against our seat belts, hard. “I don’t drive all that much, and I’m kind of bad in traffic. And rain. So we could go to Epoch Coffee in the mall instead.”

  “Epoch Coffee is good,” Knox says, massaging his shoulder.

  We lapse into silence, and I feel a lightning-quick flash of rage for us both. It’s bullshit that I’m getting shamed for having sex, and Knox is getting shamed for not having it. Meanwhile nobody’s attacking Derek or Maeve, even though they did the exact same things we did. Or didn’t do. People like to think they’re open-minded, but if you toss a tired gender stereotype in their path they’ll run with it every time. I don’t understand why the world insists on stuffing kids into boxes we never asked for, and then gets mad when we won’t stay there.

  If I start ranting about that, though, I’ll never stop. And I’m pretty sure Knox needs a different kind of distraction right now. So I talk all the way to the Bayview Mall about whatever comes to mind: TV shows, music, my job, my brother. “He wants you to come over,” I tell Knox as we pull into the mall parking lot. It’s full on such a rainy day, but I get lucky when a Jeep pulls out from a front-row spot right when I’m cruising past. “Apparently you made quite an impression.”

  “Bounty Wars fans are a tight-knit bunch,” Knox says. I take the Jeep’s spot and cut the engine, frowning at the downpour outside my window. We’re as close as we can get to the mall entrance, but we’re still going to get soaked before we make it inside. Knox unclips his seat belt and reaches for his backpack, then straightens and looks at me full-on for the first time since we got into the car. His brown eyes have nice gold flecks in them, which I file away in my Knox Is Going to Be Hot One Day mental folder. “Thanks for doing this.”

  “No problem.” I open my door and duck my head against the rain, but it only hits me for a few seconds before Knox is suddenly at my side, holding an umbrella over both our heads. I grin up at him. “Wow, you’re prepared.”

  He smiles back, and I’m glad I rescued him from the fiery pits of health class hell. “Former Boy Scout,” he says as we head for the entrance. “If we need to build a fire later, I can do that too.”

  Once we get to Epoch Coffee, we snag
a prime corner table. Knox offers to get our drinks, and I pull out my phone while I wait for him to get back. I haven’t been on Instagram since deleting all the gross comments last week, and I check it now to see if going private has kept the trolls away. It has, for the most part, although I have a bunch of new message requests. Most are from guys I don’t know, except one.

  Derekculpepper01 Hey, I don’t mean

  I frown at my screen and click the full message. Hey, I don’t mean to be a pain in your ass or anything, but I’d really like to talk to you. Can you text me? Or call if you’d rather.

  “No, dickhead, I can’t,” I say out loud as Knox returns to the table.

  He freezes halfway to handing me my drink. “What?”

  “Not you,” I say, accepting the iced coffee. “Thank you.” I hesitate before explaining further, but then I figure, what the hell. Nothing distracts you from your own problems like hearing about somebody else’s. “So, you know that whole Truth or Dare drama with me and my sister, right? Well, the ex-boyfriend in question keeps messaging me and I don’t know why. I don’t care, either, but it’s annoying. He’s annoying.”

  “Social media sucks,” Knox says. He’s dumped a small mountain of sugar packets onto the table and grabs three, tearing them open together. His shoulders hunch as he stirs them into whatever he’s drinking. “I haven’t been on since—a while. I can’t deal.”

  “Good,” I say. “Stay away. I hope you’ve blocked Unknown’s number, too.”

  “I have,” Knox says grimly. He’s starting to look miserable again, so I quickly change the subject, and for the next hour we talk about everything but the texting game. Every once in a while, I wonder if I should bring up Maeve, but—no. Too soon.

  When Knox glances at his phone and announces that he has to leave for work, I’m surprised at how fast the time went by. I have to leave too; I’m supposed to be helping Addy and Maeve put together Ashton’s wedding favors this afternoon.

  I use a stray napkin to wipe the iced coffee condensation rings from our table and pick up my almost-empty drink. “Do you want a ride?” I ask, following Knox out of Epoch Coffee and into the main mall thoroughfare.

  “Well, it’s in San Diego.” Knox looks nervous, like he’s remembering every near-fender-bender from the ride over. To be fair, there were a lot for a mile-and-a-half drive. “That’s pretty far out of your way.” We reach the mall exit and push through the doors. It’s still overcast, but the rain has stopped. “I’ll just take the bus.” He glances at his watch. “There’s one leaving in ten minutes. If I cut through the construction site behind the mall, I can make it.”

  “Okay, well—” A familiar giggle stops me, and I turn to see Jules crossing the parking lot with Monica Hill. They’re walking at an angle, toward the side of the mall instead of the front door. When they’re a few feet away from us, Jules notices me and stops short. She grabs onto Monica’s arm to make her stop, too.

  “Heyyy,” Jules says, with about half her usual enthusiasm. “What are you doing here?” Her eyes flick toward Knox and widen. Monica suppresses a laugh and whispers something in Jules’s ear.

  I can feel my cheeks turning beet red. I hate that I’m embarrassed to be seen with Knox in front of Jules and Monica, especially after we had such a good time hanging out. But I am. “Just getting coffee,” I say.

  “So are we,” Jules says, even though they’re obviously not headed for Epoch Coffee. “Too bad we missed you.”

  “Yeah, too bad,” Monica echoes. They keep standing there, so clearly waiting for me to leave that I want to stay just to annoy them. Except Knox is hovering awkwardly beside me, making everything a hundred times worse. God, what if they think this is a date? And why do I even care?

  Ugh. The hell with them.

  “Well, bye,” I say to no one in particular, and stalk off to my car. When I get inside, though, I don’t turn it on right away. Instead, I rest my head on the steering wheel and let myself cry for a good fifteen minutes about losing a friend I’ve had since elementary school. It’s just one more thing in a long line of casualties from the Truth or Dare game, but still. It sucks.

  Then I drive home in a haze, making turns on autopilot until the loud blare of sirens makes me jump. My heart starts to pound, because I know I haven’t been paying attention, and I probably violated ten different traffic rules. But as I slow down, the flashing lights appear in front of me instead of in my rearview mirror. I pull to the side of the road as two police cars, followed by a fire engine, roar past me in the direction of the Bayview Mall.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Maeve

  Thursday, March 5

  “I don’t see what the problem is,” Addy says, popping a candy-covered almond into her mouth.

  We’re both on the couch in Ashton’s apartment, and Phoebe is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. The three of us are putting candy into little netted bags, tying them with blue ribbon, and lining them up in rows on the table. They’re favors for Ashton and Eli’s wedding, which all of a sudden is less than a month away.

  I pick up a ribbon and position it around a filled bag. “Everything,” I say.

  Addy takes her time chewing and swallowing. “Everything,” she repeats. “Because you made out with a hot guy who cooked you dinner?” She shakes her head and reaches for another almond. She’s eaten almost as many as she’s bundled. “You have some serious first-world problems, girl.”

  She doesn’t know the half of what my problems are, but that’s not her fault. I’m the one who’s been keeping secrets. “I practically mauled him,” I correct. “And then I ran out on him.” Every time I think about last night, I cringe. Luis probably does, too. I avoided Café Contigo today but still secretly hoped he’d get in touch. He didn’t.

  “Just talk to him,” Addy says.

  Phoebe heaves a dramatic sigh. “Thank you. I keep trying to tell her that.”

  I don’t answer, and Addy taps me lightly on the arm. “It’s not a weakness to let someone know you like them, you know,” she says.

  I do know. I’ve been telling myself that for weeks, trying to change. But I still can’t bring myself to do it. “Then why does it feel like it?” I ask, almost to myself.

  Addy laughs. “Because rejection sucks. I’m not saying Luis is going to reject you,” she adds hastily when my head snaps up.

  “He super is not,” Phoebe murmurs, her brow knitted in concentration as she ties a careful bow.

  “I mean in general,” Addy continues. “We’re all afraid of putting ourselves out there and not getting anything in return. The thing is, though, nobody looks back on their life thinking, ‘Damn, I wish I’d been less honest with the people I care about.’”

  Before I can answer I hear the sound of a key turning in a lock, followed by the squeal of hinges and the click of heels. Ashton pokes her head around the small vestibule that leads into the apartment’s open-concept living-dining area, loaded down with bags and a stack of mail. “Hi,” she calls. She crosses the room and drops the envelopes onto the edge of the coffee table, beaming when she catches sight of the wedding favors. “Oh, thank you so much for doing this! They look amazing. I got pad Thai from Sweet Basil. Did you guys eat, or do you want some?”

  “We ate,” Addy says. She ties another bow, sets the netted candies down, and starts thumbing through the mail.

  “All right,” Ashton says, returning to the kitchen area. She sets her bags on the counter, then comes back and perches on the arm of the sofa. “Addy, are you around Saturday night? Eli’s cousin Daniel is coming into town and I was thinking we could all go out to dinner.” Addy looks up at her blankly, and Ashton adds, “Remember? I told you about him. He’s going to be a groomsman in the wedding, and he’s transferring to UCSD next fall. He’s studying molecular biology.” Ashton nudges Addy’s foot with hers and smiles. “He saw that picture of you and me at Mom’s last week on Eli’s Instagram, and now he really wants to meet you.”

&nbs
p; Addy wrinkles her nose. “Molecular biology? I don’t know. I might be busy.”

  “I think you’d like him. He’s very nice. And funny.” Ashton swipes her phone a few times before holding it out to Addy. “This is Daniel.”

  Phoebe rises and peers at Ashton’s phone. I lean closer to Addy so I can see, too, and can’t help the admiring ooh that comes out when I catch sight of Daniel’s picture. That is one seriously cute molecular biologist. “He looks like the lost Hemsworth brother,” I say.

  Phoebe tilts her head for a better view. “Is that a filter, or are his eyes actually that blue?”

  “No filter,” Ashton says.

  “All right, then.” Addy nods so quickly, I’m afraid her neck might snap. “Saturday it is.”

  Ashton takes her phone back and gets to her feet, looking pleased. “Great, I’ll have Eli make reservations someplace fun. I’m going to change clothes and inhale my dinner, then I’ll help you finish the wedding favors.” She disappears into her bedroom, and Phoebe settles herself back on the ground, reaching for another netted bag. Addy rips into a large, thick envelope with a pleased aha noise.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  Addy tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “It’s from this school called Colegio San Silvestre in Peru,” she says.

  I feel a sudden stab of panic. No, you can’t leave me too. “Are you going there?”

  She laughs. “No. Well, not as a student. It’s an elementary school. But there’s this summer program where the kids learn English, and they hire counselors from other countries. I was thinking of applying. You don’t have to speak Spanish because you’re supposed to have all your conversations in English so the kids can practice. I’ve been looking into teaching programs around here for next year, and I thought it would be good experience. Plus, I’d get to travel. I’ve never even left the country before.” She flips slowly through the glossy pages of a brochure. “Ashton says I can keep living with her and Eli however long I want, but at some point I have to figure out what’s next. And I am not moving back in with my mom.”