All Your Twisted Secrets

by Diana Urban

  Finally, Robbie broke the silence. “It was nice. You’re Amber, right?”

  So he did know my name. Warmth spread through my veins. He reversed his cap, and his gray eyes sparkled under the fluorescent lights as he gave me his usual lopsided grin. His two front teeth were a little crooked, somehow making his smile even cuter.

  He stood and swung over two chairs from a neighboring table like they were light as feathers. “I don’t think we’ve ever met before.”

  “I know, crazy!” I said, taking a seat. “Our class isn’t that big. But better late than never, right? That’s, you know, a thing people say.” I was totally blabbering, and despite my best efforts, I blushed profusely. Priya, of course, had reverted to her mute state. She stared at Zane, practically drooling.

  Amy’s and Maria’s smiles didn’t reach their eyes, betraying their suspicion. Why had we barged onto their turf? Before I could say anything else, Sasha reached over and ran a lock of my hair through her fingers. “Oh my God, I love your hair color.” Her voice was so melodic, I couldn’t tell if she was mocking me. “Which is it?”

  “It’s . . . um . . . red?”

  She laughed throatily. “Obviously. I mean the swatch. The dye you use.”

  “Oh.” I smoothed my hair back. “I don’t dye it, actually.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. That’s virgin hair?” I stiffened, biting the inside of my cheek. Did she think I was lying? She leaned back in her chair, draping her elbow over its frame. “You lucky bitch.” Her own chestnut hair fell in loose waves over her shoulders, sleek and shimmering, and the mole next to her left eye disappeared into the crinkles when she smiled brightly enough to warm the room. She was giving me a compliment. Snarky, but genuine.

  “You guys, I’m having a brain fart,” said Amy, twirling a strand of shoulder-length blond hair. “Are cheerleading tryouts today or tomorrow?”

  “Today.” Sasha cracked her knuckles one at a time. “I can’t believe Emily and Ellie moved to Wisconsin. What the hell’s in Wisconsin?”

  “Potatoes?” Maria popped a bite of a muffin in her mouth and flicked a crumb from her periwinkle lace dress.

  “That’s Idaho, idiot.” Amy looked down her sharp nose at Maria. “Wisconsin has cheese or whatever.”

  Robbie rolled his eyes at them. “Either of you cheer?” he asked us.

  Priya shook her head automatically, but I said, “Priya does.” Her eyes widened, the cords in her neck bulging. “Well, she wants to. She took gymnastics lessons for years.” I nodded at her encouragingly, but she seemed to be willing herself out of existence.

  “Hey, so did Sasha,” said Amy, suddenly interested in us. “That gives you a leg up.”

  “But Sasha qualified for the Olympics when she was twelve,” Maria chimed in, her brunette ringlets bobbing. She always starred in our school musicals, and once even made it to the final casting round of some singing reality TV show.

  “Guys, stop it,” Sasha said bashfully, but her smile faltered. “You have to be sixteen to qualify; I just scored high enough to be able to.”

  “Wow!” I said. “Will you compete?”

  Sasha shifted in her seat and clenched her jaw. “No.”

  “Why not? Seems like an amazing opportunity—”

  “I can’t.” The words left her lips as a whisper. “I broke my leg in a car accident. Needed surgery.” Lines creased her forehead as she cringed at the memory. Suddenly it was like the girl who had everything had nothing at all. The transformation was staggering. I had no idea about her accident. By the time high school started, Sasha seemed on top of the world.

  “It’s fine now”—she waved off my concerned look—“but it took a while to recover. I can do stunts and stuff again, but . . . it’s not the same.”

  “Still . . . I’m so sorry—”

  Zane suddenly tossed his phone onto the table. “Good news. My folks are outta town this weekend.” He pointed at himself with both hands. “Party at my place on Friday.”

  “Nice.” Robbie bumped fists with him.

  Sasha perked up, the glimmer returning to her eyes. “Do you have any booze? I thought your parents locked up their stash after last time.”

  “Yeah, they did. We’ll have to get some.”

  I cleared my throat, eager to sidle into their conversation again. “If you can’t, you could always have a game night or something. You know what’s hilarious?” I was about to say Apples to Apples, my favorite game, but thought better of it. “Cards Against Humanity. You can borrow my deck.”

  “When’s the last time we had a game night?” said Sasha. “What were we, like, twelve?” Was she mocking me or reminiscing?

  “I love Cards Against Humanity.” Robbie grinned at me, dimples creasing his cheeks. “I’d be down for that.” His smile was infectious, and I found myself beaming back.

  Zane punched Robbie’s arm. “Lame!”

  “Whatever, man.” Robbie shook him off. “Better than sitting around staring at each other.” Zane shrugged and fiddled with his phone again. Robbie scooted his chair closer to me and wagged a finger between me and Priya. “You two should join. Bring over that deck yourself.”

  Oh. My. God. Robbie Nelson just invited us to a party. My heart skipped about twenty beats. I should probably be dead. “Sure! We’re free,” I managed to say.

  “Nice.”

  “I guess we shouldn’t get too wasted, anyway.” Sasha snapped her fingers at Amy and Maria. “Don’t forget, my mom’s taking us to see Phantom of the Opera on Saturday.”

  “On Broadway?” I asked. “I love that musical. It’s so sad.”

  “Her sister dropped out of college to be one of the ballerinas,” Amy said to me, pointing at Sasha, “and now she’s understudy for the lead—”

  “Can we not talk about my perfect sister right now?” Sasha rolled her eyes. “Bad enough we’ll have to fawn over her this weekend.”

  “At least we have backstage passes,” said Maria.

  Sasha nodded. “True. The guy who plays the Phantom is so hot.” She scrolled through her phone and leaned over to show me a picture of the dark, brooding Phantom.

  “Oh my God, I’m so jealous,” I said. “Oh, and . . . speaking of plays . . .” My heart thrummed wildly, but this was a perfect segue. “I have a question for you. It’s about the school play. You know, in the spring. I was wondering if you’d considered putting on a play with original music.”

  “Why would we do that?” Maria asked a little defensively. As the drama club’s perpetual prima donna, she’d probably hate this idea. But Sasha was the one I had to convince. As director, she got to help the drama club supervisor, Mr. Norris, choose the play.

  I swallowed hard. “I’d love to score the spring play. An entirely original score.”

  “Whoa, seriously?” said Sasha. “That’d be so much work . . .”

  “Please, hear me out.” I licked my lips. Sasha had to be stuffing her résumé to get into some Ivy League college. I knew what angle to take. “Directing a play with an original score and a live orchestra would be way more impressive on your transcript than putting on some Broadway play.”

  “Maybe . . .” Sasha groaned. “But the sheer amount of coordination that would take—”

  “Sasha, chill,” said Robbie. “Let her finish.” He threw me a reassuring smile. Was it weird that I wanted to throw myself in his lap? Probably.

  But I was on a mission here. I took a deep breath and focused on Sasha. “I’d compose all of the music myself based on your stage direction, and I’d coordinate with the orchestra. Mr. Torrente already agreed to this.”

  “What, you think you could compose an entire musical?” Maria crossed her arms and scrunched her brow. “Like, yourself?”

  “Not a musical. It’d be a play, with an orchestral score—”

  “Oh, hell no,” said Maria.

  But Sasha sat silent, arms crossed, glancing between me and Maria.

  “We don’t even have to do something completely
original,” I went on. “We could pick something like A Streetcar Named Desire, or Romeo and Juliet, and set it to new music.”

  “No way,” said Maria.

  “It’s a great idea. Truly, it is.” Sasha shook her head. “It’d just be too much work.”

  Frustrated, I huffed. “But now that you’re the director, don’t you want to do something unique?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Sasha, her tone uncertain. “But we can’t.” She watched Maria slump back in her chair, relieved.

  “But—”

  “She said no!” said Maria.

  “Well, who the hell made her queen of the universe?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could stop them.

  Oh, God. What did I do?

  My cheeks reddened as Sasha frowned and tilted her head, narrowing her eyes at me. Maria’s jaw dropped. Priya looked like she was literally about to start seizing. But Robbie looked impressed, and Amy struggled to stifle her laughter. Even Zane finally looked up from his phone.

  After a moment so long it broke the laws of physics, Sasha threw her head back and burst out laughing. Everyone else followed her lead.

  “Oh my God! The look on your face!” Sasha finally said, wiping her eyes with her pinkies, careful not to smudge her mascara.

  I let out a nervous chuckle, gripping my quivering fingers in my lap. Sasha rested an elbow on the back of her chair, poking her cheek with her tongue, sizing me up. Maybe she was impressed I’d challenged her when everyone else sucked up to her all the time.

  When everyone else quieted, Robbie said, “C’mon, Sasha, I think it’s a good idea. Nobody wants to see Bye Bye Birdie anyway.”

  “That’s true,” said Amy. “That’s some lame shit.”

  Sasha raised her eyebrows. “You said you loved Bye Bye Birdie!”

  Amy slinked back in her seat a bit. “Er . . . I kinda lied. Sorry.”

  “Well,” said Sasha, “I do love Romeo and Juliet. So dark and romantic. I’d be down for that.”

  Whoa. Might this really happen? Hope blossomed in my chest as Robbie threw me a conspiratorial wink.

  “Yeah, I guess that’d be fun,” said Maria unconvincingly. I felt kind of bad to deprive her of her singing glory, but she’d dazzle as Juliet.

  “Can I play Romeo?” asked Zane.

  Robbie scoffed. “Dude, you’re not even in drama club.”

  The warning bell rang, and Sasha stood and draped her messenger bag over her shoulder. “Alright, alright. Let’s talk. But we’ll need to get the rest of the drama club on board . . . everyone loves doing Broadway.” She snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.”

  “What is it?” My heart leapt into my throat.

  “I’ll invite them to Zane’s party on Friday. And it’d be amazing if you could bring some booze. You know, loosen them up a bit. I’m sure they’ll at least hear you out.”

  My stomach twisted in a knot. “Booze? You want me to bring alcohol to a party?” I had no idea where to get drinks.

  “Tequila would be great.”

  “Or vodka.” Zane smirked. “Off-brand is fine, we’re not picky.”

  Priya and I exchanged a wary look. “But . . . I don’t have a fake ID or anything.” I stood and stumbled after them. “Where am I supposed to get booze?”

  Sasha gave an exaggerated shrug. “I mean, you could show up empty-handed. But if you want to impress them, you’ll just have to figure it out.”

  59 Minutes Left

  My pulse raced as I stared at the syringe of poison and the bomb atop the gleaming silver platter. Within the hour, you must choose someone in this room to die. If you don’t, everyone dies.

  “That’s one sick prank,” said Robbie. “Who the hell would do this?” He grabbed the note from me, his eyes darting across the page. Diego leaned against the edge of the table, studying the bomb.

  “Wait, wait, wait.” Sasha clutched her throat. “Does that mean . . . if we don’t kill one of us, that bomb will go off in an hour?”

  Scott burst out laughing.

  “What the hell is so funny?” asked Sasha.

  He leaned back in his chair. “It’s obviously a joke, and you fell for it like an anvil.”

  “Doesn’t seem very funny to me,” muttered Robbie.

  “Who would do this?” Priya cried. “Who would think up something so awful?”

  “Did anyone see who shut the door?” I asked. Priya and Scott shook their heads.

  “No.” Diego slumped back into his seat. “I didn’t see anyone.”

  “Me neither,” said Sasha. “I was too busy talking to that creep.” She motioned toward Scott, and he scoffed.

  “Someone probably stood behind the door and pushed it closed,” said Diego.

  Priya visibly shivered. “Does that mean someone was hiding behind the door the whole time?”

  “And are they still out there?” My voice shook slightly.

  Robbie slammed the note on the table and scooted his chair back with a screech, making me jump. “This is ridiculous.” He rounded his chair and pounded on the door. “Hey! Unlock the door!” His jaw tightened when nobody replied. “This isn’t funny. Unlock the door now!”

  “Oh my God,” said Priya. Sasha took slow, deep breaths, trying to keep calm, but her eyes darted around the room frantically.

  “Robbie.” I rushed toward him, grabbing his hand. “Calm down. It’s just some morbid joke. I’m sure they’ll get bored and let us out.”

  He shook me off and knelt, peering with one eye into the large keyhole below the doorknob. “There’s no key.”

  “I didn’t hear a lock click or anything,” Sasha added.

  “It all happened so fast.” I touched the oak door, the wood cool under my palm, and turned back to the group. “Think they’re still out there?”

  Robbie shrugged. “Who the hell knows?”

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is anyone there?”

  “This is bullshit.” Robbie kicked the door. “What kind of sick psycho would—”

  “Shhh.” I waved him off and pressed my ear against the door, but all I could hear was Priya muttering, “Oh my God, oh my God,” over and over again. “Priya, shut up,” I said. She clamped her lips shut, her eyes glassy.

  I pressed my ear against the door again, straining to hear something. A voice. Footsteps. Someone breathing. Anything. But all I could hear were the muffled baritones and strings from the orchestral music playing in the main dining room.

  “Nothing?” asked Diego.

  I shook my head and knelt, peeking through the keyhole. My heart raced as I held my breath. Years of watching horror movies had trained me to expect an eyeball to appear on the other side. My whole body tensed, ready to leap backward.

  But all I could see was one of the red-cushioned booths across the main dining room. There was no movement of any kind. “There’s nobody there.” I stood and turned back to the group. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Damn, it’s so hot in here.” Sasha touched the back of her hand to her forehead.

  “It really is.” I wiped my upper lip and scanned the walls. “Crap. The thermostat must be out in the main dining room.”

  “It’s gotten worse since we got here.” Priya tugged on her hair. “I just want to go home.”

  I gasped and bit my lip. Home. I forgot to text Mom when Robbie and I got here. “Oh, no.” I grabbed my phone from the table and raised it toward the ceiling, but I had no signal whatsoever. Sasha tried the same thing, stretching toward the windows facing the alley.

  “Nothing,” she confirmed. “I can’t get anything.”

  “Crap, crap, crap.” My chest tightened like a vise squeezing my heart. What if something terrible did happen here tonight? What was the last thing I said to my mother as I ran out the door? Did I tell her I loved her? When was the last time I told my parents I loved them? A chill tore through me despite the room’s warmth, and I shook the morbid thought away. This was just a prank. It wasn’t real.

  “Oh my God.” Sa
sha hunched over, hugging herself around the middle. “This can’t be happening.”

  “So what do we do?” asked Robbie.

  Sasha straightened and rubbed her forehead with trembling fingers. “I can’t believe this is happening. What if we’re really going to have to do this? What if they really make us kill one of us?”

  1 Year, 1 Month Ago

  JANUARY OF JUNIOR YEAR

  “Priya, you’re killing me.” I slumped over my keyboard, racked with giggles as Priya scrambled to pick up the fifty-two playing cards she’d shot all over my room.

  “Sorry, sorry!” She threw herself across my bed, nearly knocking over the camera’s tripod to recover a card that slid between the mattress and the wall.

  I slipped off my headphones and toggled the camera’s Record button. “Oh my God, you’re such a klutz.” I’d agreed to help Priya film and score her latest magic act, which she supposedly spent the last week perfecting. We’d produced several videos for her fledgling YouTube channel, but this was Priya’s first foray into playing card flourishes.

  “I swear I’ll catch them next time.”

  “You only swore that the last dozen times,” I teased, stealing a glance at my phone. Nine thirty. Zane’s party started a half hour ago, but we couldn’t head over until I had alcohol in hand. And that couldn’t happen until my parents went to bed.

  I planned to swipe some of their booze since they hadn’t touched the stuff in years. They used to have a glass each night together, but one time Dad got so blackout drunk after Maggie died, Mom and I thought he died. He’d passed out on the living room floor, and Mom screamed at me to dial 911 when he wouldn’t wake up. After he got his stomach pumped, he vowed never to drink and scare us like that again.

  “Think they’ll go to bed soon?” Priya asked, reading the stress on my face.