“He’ll be fine. Trust me. It’s like a character-building exercise. When this is all over, he’ll be a stronger person.” She said it like she meant it. She was actually trying to convince someone that this was all for Mike’s own good.
Jay wasn’t buying it, but he let the subject drop when Mike came up behind Chelsea and planted an enthusiastic kiss on her cheek. Obviously, Mike wasn’t suffering too much from Chelsea’s little experiment.
Chelsea rubbed the spot where his lips had touched her and made a face that only they could see. “There’s my guy!” she said. “Jay was just telling me that he doesn’t like your ’stache, baby. But I told him he’s crazy. I think it’s hot.”
Mike looked embarrassed that they were talking about it again. Violet realized that it was a sore subject and wondered what Chelsea had done to make him so eager to please her.
But before she could speculate, something strangely familiar drew Violet’s attention, just out of the corner of her eye.
It was so faint, and gone so fast, that she wasn’t even certain she’d seen it. A blink. A weak flash.
Violet turned in the direction from which it had come, wondering what it could have been.
Students crowded tables and leaned against walls. They moved in and out of doorways, and she could see them drifting idly through the hallways that surrounded the administrative offices at the entrance of the school, just beyond the cafeteria.
It could have been a camera. Or the pulse of a flashlight, although that seemed oddly out of place at school . . . during the day.
It might have been nothing.
But it wasn’t. A gentle hum beat through her veins. She knew that it wasn’t nothing.
She stood up, ignoring the others around her. “I’ll be right back,” she said to no one in particular as she scanned the area, trying to locate the translucent flicker once more. She couldn’t be sure from where, exactly, it had come, but she headed toward the busy hallways. She recognized everyone but no one in particular.
She felt like she were chasing phantoms as she searched each face, looking for something that might distinguish one individual from the rest. Looking for that certain something that he wouldn’t even realize he carried.
It was the light, the pulsating flashes that had woken her the night the dead cat had been left outside her house. With everything else going on, she’d nearly forgotten about the cat . . . and its killer. And now here it was, the imprint of death.
Even though it was washed out, almost completely blanched by the light of day, she was sure that was what it was.
Icy fingers gripped her heart at the thought of one of her fellow students, someone she knew, someone she was so near every day, having done something so horrendous. And then leaving it for Violet to find.
She tried to locate the flash again, tried to pinpoint it among the faces around her. When she couldn’t see it, she started to think that maybe it was gone. Or, possibly, that she’d only imagined it.
And then it came again, just the hint of that diffused, glowing spark. Gone as quickly as it had come. But farther now than it had been before.
Maybe it’s coming from outside, Violet thought, looking through the windows.
She shoved her way through the crowd, out the double doors near the office, and into the light of day. She didn’t see him, the person who carried the imprint of the dead cat.
She kept walking, searching. Ahead of her, in the parking lot, she could see cars coming and going. Around her, students and some faculty members meandered along the sidewalks that wound around the campus.
Her heart beat a reckless rhythm. She was afraid to discover the truth. And afraid not to.
She slowed, moving carefully, trying to notice everything. But the harder she searched, the more she realized she was too late. Whoever she’d sensed was gone.
She reached the end of the buildings, where the parking lot started, and took a heavy step forward, off the curb, searching around her. There was no one there. No flashing light. She was alone.
It didn’t make any sense.
She sighed, disappointment sinking in. She didn’t know what to think.
But she was tired, she reminded herself. She’d barely slept, and not just last night but for a long, long time. Too long. Maybe her mind had slipped past normal fatigue and into something far more dangerous, far closer to the kind of exhaustion where her thoughts could no longer be trusted.
She shook her head, not wanting to entertain the disturbing notion.
She wasn’t crazy. She had seen something. It had definitely been there, and even if it hadn’t been an imprint, it had been real.
She waited for a few minutes and then gave up, going back to the cafeteria.
Tonight, she decided with determination. Tonight I need to sleep.
Greed
It was the strangest thing, seeing Violet get up from her lunch table and walk right toward her. It was as if Violet had known she was being watched.
But that was impossible.
She’d only meant to spy for a moment, to numb herself just a little. And when she saw Violet heading right toward her, wearing that strange look of recognition on her face, she’d backed away before Violet could discover her . . . hiding there, stealing a glimpse into the life she could never have.
Perfect Violet. With the perfect life.
She slipped out of the building before Violet could reach her, disappearing around the corner. She paused for a moment, frozen—trapped—as she waited for her father to get into his truck. She hated that he’d insisted on coming inside to sign her in, resentful that he’d made her late in the first place as she stayed awake half the night, waiting for him to pass out.
As he pulled away, she circled the building, searching for another way inside, and wondered what would happen if she let Violet catch her.
She toyed with the notion of opening up to Violet, and the idea was oddly appealing.
What if she could tell someone the truth? What if she could share her burdens?
And what would she say? That her mother had run off? That her father was a drunk?
Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to tell anyone. There was no one she could trust . . . no one who cared about her pathetic existence.
Especially not Violet Ambrose.
She reached an open doorway and took a relieved breath. She entered the stream of students pouring into the halls before their next class. She moved among them, reassured that she was once again undetectable.
Just the way she liked it.
Anonymous. Faceless in the crowd.
Just another girl.
Chapter 17
When Violet and Jay walked together to the parking lot after school, Violet couldn’t help inspecting everyone around her. Studying them. Searching them.
One of them carried an imprint.
She kept telling herself to just forget it, but she couldn’t.
“Hey, it’s for you,” Jay announced, interrupting her thoughts as he reached for the pink paper that was tucked beneath his windshield wiper. He sniffed it before handing it to her. “Smells good.”
Violet laughed at him for smelling the note, then turned it over in her hands.
Her name had been written with purple felt-tip marker in distinctly girly lettering. She sniffed it apprehensively; it smelled like grape. A lacy heart sticker held it closed.
“That’s weird.” She picked at the corner of the sticker, flashing Jay a sly look. “Maybe I have a secret admirer.”
Jay threw his bag in the backseat and climbed inside to start his car.
Violet unfolded the letter and read it. Her heart stopped.
The words inside were written in the same feminine handwriting as her name on the outside. She read them again, thinking that she’d made some sort of mistake the first time.
She hadn’t.
She refolded the paper, this time in a hurry, trying to ignore the unnerving sensation that someone was watching her. She shoved i
t into her backpack and then threw hers in back with Jay’s.
“So? Who was the love note from?” he asked absently as she got in the passenger seat.
Violet shook her head, trying to find the words, but they weren’t there. She felt like she was stuck in her dream again, the nightmare in which she was trapped, entombed, in the suffocating darkness. Unable to save herself.
“Violet?”
She blinked. “What?” She still hadn’t answered his question. “Chelsea,” she floundered. “It’s just a note from Chelsea.”
He looked worried. “You okay?” He touched her cheek, his brow wrinkled.
She nodded. “I’m tired. Really, really tired.”
He accepted that, mostly because he knew, probably better than anyone, that it was true. And it had been.
Up until she’d read that note.
Jay had to work that afternoon, so Violet had planned on going home to take a well-deserved nap. But when she got there, her dad was still at work and her mom was gone for the afternoon, and Violet realized that there was no way she’d be able to sleep. Not yet. Not while her house was empty.
She wandered around, trying to find a way to make herself comfortable. It was crazy that she was afraid there, of all places. Violet had never been afraid in her own home, not even as a little girl.
She’d never believed in the bogeyman or monsters that hid in the shadows beneath her bed or in her closet, in the places where a night-light couldn’t reach . . . if she’d been the kind of girl who had actually needed a night-light.
And yet, here she was, terrified in the one place she should feel the most secure.
Thanks to that stupid note.
She pulled it out of her backpack and stared at it again, not sure what she hoped to gain from reading it one more time:
Rosie Is Dead
Violet Is Blue
You Can’t See Me . . .
But I’m Watching You
Ever since she was a little girl, she’d heard that nursery rhyme put together a hundred different ways using her name. But it had never felt so threatening, so ominous. Violet understood the implied meaning behind the words.
It was another message from the person who’d left the cat. The same person she’d followed today through her very own school.
He, or she, Violet corrected herself as she scrutinized the girlish handwriting, was taunting Violet. Stalking her, openly baiting her.
And that person knew where she lived.
Violet shoved the note into the bottom of her backpack and closed all the blinds in the family room, sitting on the couch in the dark and trying to trick herself into feeling isolated, safe. She wanted to be tired again, enough so she could fall asleep, so she would feel better and be able to think more clearly. But the longer she sat there trying to make herself relax, the more she realized it was impossible.
Finally she decided that she needed to get out of her house. At least for a while. At least until her parents got home. But she needed to do one thing before she left.
She put on her shoes and her jacket and double-checked that Carl was safely inside before slipping through the kitchen door at the back of the house and hurrying across the lawn to her mom’s art studio. Inside she rummaged around the messy tabletops until she found a small piece of wood. It was flat and smooth, the perfect size for what she needed. She hoped her mom wasn’t saving it for anything special.
She opened a small container of acrylic paint and grabbed a thin paintbrush. The color she’d chosen was a pretty shade of pink.
Violet worked meticulously—respectfully—on her project, making sure to give it the care it deserved. When she was finished, she rinsed the brush and replaced the paint where she’d found it.
She crept quietly around the shed, toward the edge of the woods to where her tiny cemetery bordered the back of their property. She walked around the grave markers and homemade headstones, watching her step, until she found the site she was looking for.
Then she knelt down in front of the fresh grave and set the small painted plaque with the little cat’s name on it:
ROSIE
Violet had planned to hit the drive-through and grab a cup of tea, a little something to keep her going for the rest of the evening. Something to keep her alert.
But when she got to Java Hut and saw Chelsea’s car in the parking lot, she changed her mind. It wasn’t like she had anyplace better to go.
As she locked her car, Violet couldn’t help wondering if the person who’d written the note also hung out at the Java Hut. The thought made her suspicious of everyone she passed.
Inside she spotted Chelsea and Jules at a table in the back corner.
Violet ordered a cup of tea at the counter and carried it back to where her friends were sitting. She was surprised that Claire wasn’t with them, since Claire hated being left out.
Chelsea made a face at Violet’s tea. “Shouldn’t you be having a milk shake or something?”
That was Chelsea’s way of saying Violet should order a milk shake so Chelsea could “share” without actually paying.
Violet shook her head, ignoring the not-so-subtle hint. “Nope, I’m good.” She pulled the plastic top off her cup and stirred in a packet of honey.
“I’ll split one with you, if you want,” Jules volunteered to Chelsea.
“Aww. See? Jules gets me.” Chelsea’s response was meant as a commentary on Violet’s intentional snub.
Jules held out her hand, palm up.
Chelsea frowned at it. “I thought you were getting it.”
Jules smiled and wiggled her fingers. “I said I would split it with you. So pony up, sister.”
Chelsea glared at Jules as she dropped some change in her hand. “Anything but strawberry.”
Jules grabbed the money and headed toward the counter to order their milk shake.
“I thought you loved strawberry,” Violet said once Jules was gone.
“I do. It’s reverse psychology. She’ll get the strawberry.” Even when her statements were outrageous, Chelsea always sounded so sure of herself.
Violet just laughed. “Just because you would do the opposite doesn’t mean Jules will.”
She sipped her tea; it was perfect, hot and sweet. Just the jolt of caffeine Violet needed to ward away the exhaustion for a bit longer.
“So are you and Jay coming to the cabin?” Chelsea asked.
The question was unexpected, and from so far out of left field that Violet thought she’d finally succumbed to the lack of sleep. “What are you talking about, Chels?”
“Oh yeah, that’s right, you took off during lunch today. Hey, where’d you go, anyway?”
Violet wasn’t about to tell Chelsea that she’d been chasing invisible lights through the school. “I had to take care of something before class started. So, what cabin?”
Chelsea didn’t question Violet’s nonexplanation; instead she answered, “Mike’s family has a hunting cabin up in the mountains. Some of us were thinking of taking an overnight trip up there in a couple of weeks to play in the snow and hang out. You know, snuggle up by the fire and all that good stuff.” Chelsea’s eyes glittered enthusiastically.
Violet hated to let her down. “I really doubt my parents are going to let me stay the night in a remote cabin with a bunch of boys.”
“Oh, please, Snow White, Mike’s dad’ll be there. He’s actually kinda funny . . . you know, in a weird dad kind of way. Don’t worry, your purity will remain intact. Scout’s honor.” She made some sort of gesture with her fingers that Violet assumed was supposed to be an oath, but since Chelsea had never actually been a Girl Scout, it ended up looking more like a peace sign. Or something. Violet maintained her dubious expression.
But Chelsea wasn’t about to be discouraged, and she tried to be the voice of reason. “Come on, I think Jay’s checking to see if he can get the time off work. The least you can do is ask your parents. If they say no, then no harm, no foul, right? If they say yes, then we’ll have a
kick-ass time. We’ll go hiking in the snow and hang out in front of the fireplace in the evening. We’ll sleep in sleeping bags and maybe even roast some marshmallows. It’ll be like we’re camping.” She beamed a superfake smile at Violet and clasped her hands together like she was begging. “Do it for me. Ple-eease.”
Jules came back with their milk shake. It was strawberry, and Chelsea flashed Violet an I-told-you-so grin.
Violet finished her tea, mulling over the idea of spending the weekend in a snowy cabin with Jay and Chelsea. Away from town. Away from whoever was leaving her dead animals and creepy notes.
It did sound fun, and Violet did love the snow. And the woods. And Jay.
She could at least ask.
Like Chelsea said, No harm, no foul.
Chapter 18
The exhaustion had finally caught up with her, and that night Violet slept like the dead. For the first time in weeks, she felt completely and totally rested. And by morning, she felt sane again. Clear.
It was a great feeling.
She got up early. Well, maybe not early, but not late either, and in time to actually eat something before she had to leave for school. Not bad.
In the rush of the morning, she easily ignored the first hang-up call she received, chalking it up to mistaken dialing. The call log had simply read: Unknown Caller.
She shoved her cell phone into the pocket of her hoodie, and crammed her math book, and the homework assignment she’d been working on over her bowl of cereal, into her backpack.
Inside her jacket, she felt the phone vibrating. She pulled it out to check it.
Unknown Caller again.
“Hello?” She glanced out the window to make sure Jay wasn’t there to pick her up yet.
There was a moment in which she thought that the person on the other end might say something, a long, empty pause, but nothing happened. Finally, Violet pulled the phone away from her ear.
The call had ended.
She tucked it away for a second time. Jay would be there any minute.
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