Addy’s mother is the definition of a party mom. The last time I saw her, right before Addy moved in with Ashton, she offered me a glass of wine while her twenty-something Tinder date checked out my ass. She hasn’t been all that involved in wedding planning, except to text Addy pictures of every potential mother-of-the-bride dress she tries on.
“Sounds great,” I say, peering at the brochure over Addy’s shoulder. “Can I see?”
Addy hands it to me with a smile. “You should look into it, too. You don’t have to be a high school graduate to apply. We’d have fun.”
She’s right, we would. I can’t think of anything I’d like better than a summer with Addy in South America, actually. But I can barely plan for next week, with all the crap going on with my life. Who knows what kind of shape I’ll be in by the time applications are due? Still, the brochure draws me in with beautiful pictures of the school and the kids, and I’m flipping through with increasing interest when Ashton comes running out of her room.
She’s barefoot, and her blouse is untucked as though she’d paused halfway through getting changed. “I just got a text from Eli,” she says breathlessly, her eyes roving over the coffee table. “Where’s the remote?”
“I think I’m sitting on it.” Addy twists and reaches to pull it out from behind a cushion. She blinks, surprised, when Ashton snatches it from her hand. “Jeez, Ash, what’s the rush?”
Ashton perches beside her on the arm of the sofa and aims the remote at the television. “There’s been an accident,” she says. The screen springs to life, and Ashton clicks away from the E! Network. “I think they’re covering it on Channel Seven—yeah. Here it is.”
A stone-faced news anchor sits behind a shiny, semicircular desk, the words Breaking News scrolling in all caps behind him. “Reporter Liz Rosen joins us now at the scene,” he says, aiming an intense stare directly into the camera. “Liz, what can you tell us?”
“Ugh. Her.” Addy frowns as a dark-haired woman in a blue blazer fills the screen. Liz Rosen practically stalked Addy, Bronwyn, Cooper, and Nate last year while they were being investigated for Simon’s death. Then Addy’s brow furrows as she leans forward, craning her neck for a better look. “Is she at the mall?”
“Thank you, Tom,” Liz says. “We’re continuing to bring you the latest from Bayview, where tragedy has occurred at an abandoned construction site. The story is still developing, but what we know so far is that a group of local teens were in a blocked-off area when one boy fell through the roof of a partially constructed building. Another boy was also injured, although it’s not yet clear how. And we just got word, from one of the officers here, that the young man who fell through the roof has been confirmed dead.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I take in the familiar scene over Liz’s shoulder. “Oh my God,” Addy says. A half-dozen sugared almonds slip through her fingers and onto the floor.
Phoebe gasps and scrambles to her feet. “Knox,” she breathes. “He cut through there.”
“I know,” I say, my eyes glued to the television. “He’s always saying how mad his dad would be if he knew. And no wonder. It really was dangerous.”
“No,” Phoebe says urgently. “I mean he cut through there today. On his way to work, right before I came here.”
Oh my God. Knox.
My entire heart seizes as a yellow banner reading TEEN DIES IN CONSTRUCTION SITE ACCIDENT appears at the bottom of the screen. Helpless, flailing panic rushes through me, and I fumble under piles of netting on the coffee table for my phone. “It can’t be him,” I say. My voice shakes, and I force more conviction into it. If it sounds true, maybe it will be true. “He’s fine. I’m going to call him right now.”
Liz continues to talk. “There are still a lot of unknowns. Police say they have yet to notify the next of kin, so they have not released the name of the deceased. It’s also not clear what type of injuries the second teen has sustained. However, we understand that they are not life-threatening, and that the young man has been transported to Bayview Memorial Hospital for treatment.”
My call to Knox goes straight to voice mail, and just like that, I start sobbing uncontrollably. “He—he’s not answering,” I manage to choke out as Addy puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“Let me call Eli,” Ashton says. “Hang on. I left my phone in my room.”
My head is buried in Addy’s shoulder as the desk anchor’s deep voice turns mournful. “Of course, the town of Bayview is no stranger to tragedy, Liz.”
“Turn it off,” Addy says tightly.
“I can’t … I can’t find …” Phoebe sounds like she’s in tears, too. “I think Ashton took the remote with her.”
“That’s absolutely true, Tom,” Liz Rosen says. “The town is still recovering from the shocking death of Bayview High student Simon Kelleher eighteen months ago, which made national headlines. It remains to be seen how this story develops, but we’ll continue to monitor and provide updates as they happen.”
I clutch Addy’s arm like a life preserver, my stomach twisted with fear and sick regret. If anything happened to Knox, and I never got the chance to make up with him …
“He’s okay. Knox is okay!” Ashton’s voice fills me with such intense relief that I can finally look up. “But he’s the one in the hospital. Eli doesn’t know what happened yet. I’ll take you there right now.”
Addy keeps her arm around me as we stand. I feel as unsteady as a newborn fawn; none of my limbs are working properly as I lurch toward the door. “Does Eli know who died?” I manage to get out.
Ashton nods, her pretty face somber. “Yeah. It was a boy named Brandon Weber. Did you know him?”
There’s a loud thud from near the door. Phoebe, who’d been gathering all our backpacks and bags from where we’d left them, goes rigid with shock and they fall from her hands.
Two hours later, we finally get to see Knox.
Only family was allowed to visit at first, and his parents and sisters had to go in shifts. Information has been coming in spurts, and we’re not sure how much is true. But a few things are starting to repeat consistently, both on the news and in the texts flying across our phones.
One: Brandon died trying to take a shortcut through the construction site.
Two: Sean, Jules, and Monica were all with him at the time.
Three: Knox has a concussion but is otherwise fine.
Four: Sean Murdock saved Knox’s life by knocking him to the ground when he tried to rush after Brandon.
“Sean Murdock.” Phoebe keeps repeating the name like she’s never heard it before. She’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Her eyes are glazed, her cheeks pale. She looks almost catatonic, and I don’t think the news about Brandon has sunk in yet. It hasn’t for me, either. “You’re telling me Sean Murdock saved Knox’s life.” She says it like you’d say, You’re telling me dogs can now talk and drive cars.
Addy wrinkles her brow. “Sounds familiar, but I don’t remember him.”
“He’s—” I almost finish with a total asshole but stop myself in the nick of time. Whatever else happened, Sean lost his best friend today. And might have saved Knox’s life, although I’m having as hard a time as Phoebe is wrapping my brain around that one. “He was Brandon’s friend. He and Knox are … not close.”
Knox’s sister Kiersten emerges from the hospital corridor, followed by two of his other sisters. Kiersten’s eyes search the waiting area until they land on me. “Maeve, we’re going to meet up with my parents in the cafeteria for a while. Knox is getting tired, but he’s still okay to see people. Do you and your friends want to say hello?” She smiles so kindly that I’m positive she has no clue about the texting game, or what’s been going on between me and Knox over the past couple of days. “He’s right around the corner in room 307.”
I jump to my feet, pulling Phoebe and Addy with me. “Yes, please. How is he?”
“He’ll be fine,” Kiersten
says reassuringly. “They’re keeping him overnight for observation, but everything looks good.” Then her resolutely cheerful expression slips a little. “Well, almost everything. Prepare yourself. Poor kid’s face is a little rough.” She squeezes my arm as we pass by her.
Hospitals make me anxious, and I need to take a second to steel myself at the door to Knox’s room. This section of Bayview Memorial doesn’t look anything like the cancer ward, which is a lot more modern and high-tech, but the antiseptic smell and harsh fluorescent lighting are the same. I absorb the details of the room—the outdated pastel paint job, the framed print of a sad-looking vase full of sunflowers, the ceiling-mounted television in one corner, the thin curtain separating an empty bed from Knox’s—before my eyes settle on him. Then I gasp.
“I know,” Knox says through puffy lips. “I’ve looked better.”
He’s in regular clothes with only a small bandage on one side of his head, but his face is almost unrecognizable. One eye is blackened and half-closed, his nose is red and swollen, and the entire right side of his face is a giant bruise. I drop into the chair beside his bed and try to grab hold of his hand, but he tucks it beneath the threadbare blanket before I can.
I can’t tell if it’s coincidental timing or purposeful avoidance, and I remind myself it doesn’t matter. At least he’s okay. “What happened?” I ask, at the same time Phoebe says, “Sean did this?” She drags a chair from the corner of the room and drops into it beside me.
“Not so many questions at once,” Addy says. “When I had a concussion, that kind of thing gave me an instant headache.” She’s still standing, her eyes on the television screen in the corner. “Hang on. They’re about to interview Sean Murdock.” She leans over me to pick up the remote on Knox’s bedside table and points it toward the television to turn up the volume.
“Fantastic,” Knox says flatly as we all look up.
Liz Rosen from Channel Seven is holding a microphone out to Sean, who’s standing with his hands clasped like he’s about to pray. They’re in front of someone’s house, the twilight sky a deep blue behind them. The words LIVE UPDATE: LOCAL TEEN RECALLS FATAL ACCIDENT flash along the bottom of the screen as Liz says, “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Sean, after such a traumatic day. Can you tell us in your own words what happened?”
Sean towers over Liz. He hunches his shoulders like he’s trying to make himself look smaller and says, “It’s all kind of a blur, but I’ll try. A bunch of us were at the mall, and then we wanted to go downtown. We were trying to save a little time, and—God, that sounds so stupid now, doesn’t it? Like, we should’ve just walked the regular way. But we’d cut through the site before. Lots of kids do it; we didn’t think anything of it. Anyway, Bran was joking around like always, and then he jumped, and then …” Sean ducks his head and puts a hand to his temple, obscuring his face. “Then all of a sudden he wasn’t there.” Phoebe makes a strangled little noise beside me, and I reach for her hand. Unlike Knox, she lets me take it.
Brandon is dead.
Brandon Weber is dead.
Brandon.
Weber.
Is. Dead.
I can repeat the words a dozen times in my head, a dozen different ways, and it still doesn’t seem real.
“It must have been a terrible shock,” Liz says.
Sean nods, his head still down. I can’t tell if he’s crying or not. “It was,” he says.
“Did you understand immediately what had happened?”
“We couldn’t really see into the … under the roof. But we knew it was bad when he fell through.”
“And what happened with the second boy? The one who’s injured?”
“That kid—he was in shock, I think. He ran straight for the edge after Brandon, and all I could think was that he was gonna fall through, too. I panicked. I did the only thing I could think of to stop him in his tracks.” Sean finally looks up, his mouth twisted in a regretful grimace. “I punched him. I think I ended up hurting him kinda bad, and I’m sorry about that. But at least he stopped, you know? At least he’s safe.”
“Bullshit,” Knox says quietly.
We all turn toward him. “Is that not what happened?” I ask.
Knox touches the bandage at his temple and winces. “I … don’t actually remember,” he says haltingly. “Everything’s a blur from the time I left Phoebe until I woke up with somebody shining a light in my face. But I can’t imagine myself chasing after Brandon when he just fell through a roof. I mean, I’ve been around construction sites my whole life, you know? That’s not the kind of thing I’d ever do.”
“Maybe you weren’t thinking straight,” Addy says. “I wouldn’t be.”
Knox still looks skeptical. “Maybe. Or maybe Sean is lying.”
Addy blinks. “Why would he do that?”
Knox shakes his head, his face tensing as though the movement hurts. “I have no idea.”
Part Two
* * *
Sunday, March 15
REPORTER: Good evening, this is Liz Rosen with Channel Seven News. I’m live in the studio with special guest Lance Weber, whose sixteen-year-old son, Brandon, died tragically at the abandoned construction site behind the Bayview Mall just ten days ago. Mr. Weber, my heartfelt condolences for your loss.
LANCE WEBER: Thank you. My wife and I are beyond devastated.
REPORTER: You’re here tonight, you told our producers, because you want answers.
LANCE WEBER: That’s right. I’ve been a businessman for more than half my life, Liz, and in business the bottom line is accountability. Yet I can’t get any of the entities involved in this horrible tragedy—the construction company, the mall, even town officials—to step forward and provide details about what I am sure are multiple instances of negligence that contributed to my son’s death.
REPORTER: Are you saying that you believe one of those organizations—or perhaps all of them—are at fault?
LANCE WEBER: I’m saying that something like this doesn’t just happen, Liz. There’s always a responsible party.
One Day Later
Reddit, Vengeance Is Mine subforum
Thread started by Darkestmind
Where the hell are you Bayview2020?
ANSWER. MY. CHATS.
Don’t you dare fucking ghost me.—Darkestmind
This isn’t a joke.
I know where to find you.
And I’m not afraid to let this whole thing go up in flames.
I’ll do it just so I can watch you burn, too.—Darkestmind
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Phoebe
Monday, March 16
“I really appreciate the ride,” Knox says.
Emma buckles her seat belt and shifts the car into reverse. “No problem.”
It’s been a week and a half since Brandon died, and nothing in Bayview feels quite the same. On the plus side, Knox and I have been hanging out more, enough that Emma and I drive him home from school sometimes. On the far, far worse side, Jules and Sean are a couple all of a sudden. I thought I was hallucinating the first time I saw them making out in the hallway. “The trauma brought us together,” I heard her tell another girl in English class. Her eyes had the glazed devotion of a cult member. “We need each other.”
From what I’ve heard around school, it looks as though the Truth or Dare game ended with the Knox/Maeve bombshell—which makes me wonder if the whole point of the game was to mess with her. After all, she’s the one who turned the tide against Simon last year. Maybe one of his acolytes decided to get his revenge. If so, job well done, because she and Knox are still barely speaking and it’s making her miserable. Which sucks, but at least nobody at Bayview is talking about that stupid game anymore.
Another possibility, I guess, is that Brandon was behind the game all along and used it to help his friends win popularity points while messing with people he didn’t like. But since the game kicked off with an ugly secret about me while Brandon and I were hooking up, I can’t th
ink about that for too long without wanting to throw up.
Meanwhile, Sean’s started up a weird little bromance with Knox. He’s suddenly calling Knox “my man” and yelling at anyone who tries to make a limp dick joke. Which is confusing for people, since he’s the one who started them in the first place. Knox still can’t remember what happened at the construction site the day Brandon died.
And Brandon—Brandon is buried and gone.
His funeral was last weekend, the first one I’d gone to since my father’s. I’d never felt such a confusing mash-up of emotions—shock and disbelief and sadness, but also some anger still. It’s strange, mourning someone who’d been legitimately horrible to you. When the priest eulogized Brandon, I felt like he was talking about a boy I’d never met. I wish I had, because that guy sounded great.
So much potential, wasted.
“Am I taking you to Until Proven, Knox?” Emma asks. She’s back to being calmly polite toward me, and hasn’t mentioned Derek once since Brandon’s funeral. Maybe his death shocked her out of her anger, or maybe it’s just that I finally have a friend she likes. She doesn’t even mind giving Knox the occasional lift to San Diego.
“No, I’m not working,” Knox says. I glance at him in the rearview mirror, cataloging the state of his bruises like I do every day. The ring around his eye is still purple, but his cheek and jaw have calmed down to a yellowish color. If he wore makeup, he could totally cover it up with the right foundation. “Just home, thanks.”
“You should come over,” I say impulsively. “Play that Bounty Wars game Owen keeps asking about.” My brother has been subdued lately, picking up on the sad vibe running through our house since Brandon died. A video game session with someone new would be the perfect way to cheer him up.
“Yeah, sure,” Knox says. Then he frowns and leans forward. “Does the car feel kind of—lopsided to you guys?”
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