“In a way,” she said carefully. “It got more out of control than I meant for it to.”
Calum nodded knowingly. “I understand.”
Once again Tenley gave him a dubious look.
“Really!” he insisted. “You know how I attended Danford Academy for a few years?” Tenley nodded. She remembered Calum going away to boarding school in seventh grade, but she’d forgotten it was Danford. “Well, your prank pales in comparison with some of the senior pranks I witnessed there,” he said.
“From the sidelines, I’m sure,” Tenley couldn’t resist teasing.
“Except for one time,” Calum said proudly. “I assisted with one prank at the end of my sophomore year. It involved strawberry jelly squirting out of showerheads.…” He grinned. “Suffice it to say that I know how easily things can go awry.”
Tenley laughed. “I’m surprisingly impressed, Calum.”
Calum took one more look at the ring before handing it back to Tenley. “No clues to the brand,” he said with a sigh. “Guess I’m back to square numero uno.”
“Have you thought about artwork?” Tenley straightened up in her seat, surprised to find she actually wanted to help him. “Some girls”—avid photographers, she added silently—“might prefer that to jewelry.”
Calum nodded, looking thoughtful. “A painting of a computer could be nice.”
“No, it could definitely not,” Tenley groaned.
Calum broke back into his goofy grin. “Just joshing.”
Tenley stood up, her nice streak wearing thin at the use of the word joshing. “Or you could buy yourself a new vocabulary instead,” she offered. “By the way you talk, I’d think you were turning eighty any day now.”
“Nope,” Calum said cheerfully. He stood up, too. “Just eighteen. This Saturday in fact.”
“A word of advice,” Tenley said. “If you throw a party, don’t give dentures as favors.”
“How about flasks?” Calum offered. “Would that meet with your approval?”
Tenley laughed despite herself. “Are you really having a party?”
A wistful expression crossed Calum’s face. “I’m not exactly adept at gathering the masses. Unlike you.” A smirk tugged at Calum’s lips, and Tenley had a feeling he was thinking about the last party she threw—where she’d been dared to kiss him during a game of truth or dare.
“I was born with the party-throwing gene,” she acknowledged. She stopped in the doorway. Of course. It was what her mom had always taught her. The one solution to every problem? A party.
“You know what,” she said slowly. “You should have a party.” She wove her hands together as the idea took shape. “And I’m going to help you. You provide the house and the drinks, and I’ll take care of getting everyone to come.” This was her chance to get back in her grade’s good graces. Everyone was dying to check out Neddles Island, the private island where Calum and his rich Einstein of a dad lived. A party there was the perfect way to erase the Jessie incident from everyone’s mind. It also, she realized, would be perfect darer bait. Whoever was tormenting them seemed to love big scenes. A party could be just the thing to lure their stalker out of hiding.
“Do you really think people would come?” Calum asked doubtfully. “Would you, if you weren’t doing the inviting?”
Tenley studied her shoes. The question gave her a squirmy feeling in her stomach. She’d spent so long clinging to the top of Winslow’s social ladder that she’d never bothered to look down. But now she was on the ground, too, and the view was worse than she’d imagined.
“You’re having a party,” she said firmly. “I’ll take care of the invites if you do the rest.” She put her hands on her hips, fixing him with her fiercest stare. “I’m not good at taking no for an answer.”
“Okay, okay.” Calum held his hands up in surrender. “I acquiesce. We’ll party on Saturday like it’s 1999.”
This time, Tenley couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “Just as long as you never say that again.”
Calum gave her a salute. “Come on, I’ll take you out the back way. Just be careful of wires. There’s some construction going on.”
Tenley picked her way around a few stray wires as she followed Calum toward the exit. “Careful,” a construction worker grunted as they passed. “Some of the areas are—”
He didn’t get to finish his sentence. As Tenley stepped past him, several wires suddenly broke loose from a clump in the ceiling. Sparks flew as the wires tore away, bringing metal piping with them. “Watch out!” someone yelled.
Adrenaline surged through Tenley as she hurtled herself out of the way. She landed on the floor only inches out of the piping’s path.
“Ow!” The howl made her whip around. Calum, who’d been a few steps behind her, had caught some of the falling piping on his arm. It left an open gash behind. Calum’s already pale face grew several shades paler as he stared down at the blood pooling out of it.
One of the construction workers rushed over. “We’ve got a first aid kit in the truck,” he assured Calum. He glanced over at Tenley, sweat pooling on his upper lip. “You okay over there?”
Tenley nodded mutely. She shook out her arms, then her legs. She was in one piece, but the burn on her leg ached, and her skin was clammy all over. It was the accident at the homecoming dance all over again, the very worst kind of déjà vu. She could picture the light crashing down next to her, could almost feel the heat searing into her.…
“You sure, Tenley?”
Calum’s voice pulled her back to the present. “Yeah,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “You go take care of your arm.”
As one of the construction workers hustled Calum off to get first aid, another came over to help her up. “You’re lucky you’re so spry,” he commented.
Tenley stood up carefully, regaining her balance. “Who knew being a gymnast would save—”
She was interrupted by an angry shout. “What the hell?” someone yelled.
Tenley looked toward the source of the voice. A construction worker stood at the top of a ladder. He was holding a chunk of loose wires in his hand. The bottoms had been sliced neatly across. “No wonder that fell. Someone clipped the wires!”
Tenley shrank back, bumping her shoulder into the wall.
Someone had planned this.
No, not someone. The darer.
A beep rose from inside Tenley’s bag. Her body went numb as she reached for her phone. Blocked.
I just kicked things into high gear. Who knew doing my own dirty work could be so much fun?
CHAPTER NINE
Wednesday, 7:00 PM
Emerson sat in her car, trying to muster up the energy to drive home. It had been a terrible day: The only people to utter a single word to her were Tenley and her teachers. Even Marta had successfully avoided her. It had made Emerson feel like a magic act: Just one blink and she could disappear forever. Unable to take the silent treatment any longer, she’d skipped cheer practice and spent the afternoon trying to figure out what Delancey’s key unlocked.
She’d tried every avenue she could think of. She’d e-mailed Abby to ask if she knew about it. She’d taken the key to the hardware store to see if anyone there had suggestions. She’d made sure it wasn’t a fit for a local PO Box. She’d even ransacked Delancey’s bedroom, on the fabricated excuse that Delancey had borrowed one of her textbooks. But after all that, she was left with only one possible lead: a scribbled, balled-up note she’d found in the trash can next to Delancey’s desk. It had just two words on it, written in Delancey’s perfect cursive: Purple door.
Was it possible Delancey’s key led to a purple door? And, if so, what did that door have to do with the darer?
Despite the dead ends, racing around town and actually doing something about their situation had Emerson feeling the most like herself all week. With a sigh, Emerson put her car in gear. When she slipped into her house a few minutes later, she could hear the buzz of a TV drifting out of her parents’ bedroom
. She crept quietly up the stairs, hoping they wouldn’t hear her. She couldn’t take another lecture, not tonight. She made it safely into her bedroom, closing the door behind her with a soft click before she turned on the light. That was when she noticed it.
Her underwear drawer.
It was hanging open, underwear and bras a tangled mess inside. Emerson walked toward it in a daze. When she’d opened the drawer that morning, it had been neat and orderly, underwear on one side, bras on the other. Now straps were hanging out and her underwear was jumbled in haphazard piles.
She inched closer, fear thrumming through her. It wasn’t until she was right there, close enough to touch, that she saw the invitation.
She lifted it up. It was printed on thick pink card stock and lined with a silver ribbon. YOU’RE INVITED! it screamed at the top. Underneath, in the same typewriter font, were the details.
What: A tryst
Where: The Bones
When: Tonight
Why: Disobey, and Tenley finally dies
Dress Code: Your underwear… and nothing else
Emerson squeezed her eyes shut, shaking all over. She had no choice but to obey. As strange as it was, Tenley was the only real friend she had right now. She couldn’t risk losing her, too.
She knew the whole thing could be a setup. But if it wasn’t, and Tenley ended up paying the price, she’d never be able to live with herself.
Emerson sneaked back out to her car in a daze. The drive to the Bones barely felt real. But then it appeared in the distance: a tower of boxes stacked to the sky. This far away, it reminded her of concrete LEGOs. Officially, the building was called the Tides Condominiums, but in the three years that it stood unfinished, the local news stations had coined it the Bones: as in a skeleton of a building. One day, it would be all glass and gleam, luxury apartments that would draw the rich in from Boston. But for now it was just a shell.
Emerson tried to quell the shaking in her hands as she parked in the Bones’ abandoned lot. She touched a finger to the horseshoe necklace she was still wearing. She could use all the luck she could get tonight.
Emerson had just turned off her car when her phone buzzed. Fear spiked inside her, making the temperature in the car suddenly feel like a hundred degrees. But the text was from Josh. You around?
Emerson stared grimly down at her phone. Running a quick errand. Call u after! The false cheeriness made her stomach turn as she climbed into the dimly lit parking lot. She gave her pocket a quick pat. Her pepper spray was there.
It was dark inside the building, but someone had lined up two rows of tea candles. Their tiny fingers of light created a pathway through the building. Blood pounded in Emerson’s ears as she followed it. The path wound past steel beams and concrete walls and bags of cement before stopping abruptly in a wide-open space.
“Whoa.” Emerson’s palms grew wet as she looked around. Red rose petals were everywhere. They lined the room, bathing the space in red. In the center of the floor, the silky petals had been delicately arranged into the shape of an X.
Emerson moved closer, the pounding in her ears now a full-on roar. The message was clear. X marks the spot. Or maybe it meant something else. X’d out—done .
Her instructions flashed though her mind. Dress Code: Your underwear… and nothing else.
Closing her eyes, she slipped out of her jeans, then her top. The clothes fell to the floor, leaving Emerson in her underwear.
“Okay,” she called out angrily. She opened her eyes, wrapping her arms around herself. “I’m half naked! What now? Are there cameras? Video?”
Outside, the wind howled, lifting goose bumps on her bare skin. From the distance came a faint creak. Every muscle in her body tightened. “Hello?” she yelled out. “Who’s there?”
Nothing.
But she could sense it. Her neck prickled. Someone was there. “Hello?” she tried again. “Show your face!”
A creak rang out in the distance, and then something else. Was that a snicker?
Fear choked her. Someone was waiting. Watching.
A shadow flickered in the corner of her vision. She spun around, but there was no one. Another breeze tickled her arms, and suddenly she was furious. “If you’re here, come out!” she yelled. Her voice bounced off the distant walls, circling around her. But the space was eerily still again, the kind of quiet that came from being truly alone. If someone had been there, they were gone now.
“You know what? Fine!” She grabbed desperately for her shirt. “I followed your orders! I’m out of here.”
Her shirt was dangling above her head when she heard them. Footsteps.
The fabric slipped out of Emerson’s hands. The footsteps drew closer, the sound drumming through the wide-open structure. Emerson stood paralyzed, her limbs like stone.
A person emerged. Tall build. Broad shoulders. Mohawked hair.
“Josh?”
“Emerson!” Josh took a step forward as his eyes darted from Emerson’s underwear to the rose petals and back. “What—what is this?” Confusion and horror flitted across Josh’s face. And then—anger. “This was your errand? Were you meeting someone here?”
“No!” Emerson swore. “I wasn’t—”
“Really?” Josh cut in. “Because you’re half naked, and I’m not sure what else I’m supposed to think.” Suddenly Josh slapped his forehead. “Oh my god. Was this what you were trying to tell me in the lighthouse? That guy you mentioned—are you still seeing him?”
“No!” Emerson went over to Josh and tried to take his hand, but he shook her off. “I swear, Josh, I’m done with him. This… this was just a dare! That’s all, I promise.” She gazed pleadingly up at him. “I wouldn’t lie.”
“Really?” Josh pulled out his phone. “Because it seems like that’s all you’ve been doing.” His expression was steely as he handed her his phone.
The instant Emerson saw the name on the screen, any last bit of hope leaked out of her. Blocked.
Liar, liar, pants on fire… Oh wait, Emerson isn’t wearing any pants! Go to the Bones for proof she hasn’t changed.
A photo was attached. It was a screenshot from Twitter, posted two Julys ago by RemsenPhotog.
SCORE! Model Tally = 4, it declared over a fuzzy selfie shot of two scantily clad figures embracing.
Emerson swallowed hard, tears welling in her eyes. The photo was of her with Remsen, the photographer with whom she’d made the worst mistake of her life. A girl she’d modeled with in New York had found the image on Twitter last year and e-mailed her a screen shot. The darer must have dug it out of her old e-mails.
Emerson crumpled over, gagging. The darer wanted to take everything from her, strip her bare until she had nothing at all.
“So it’s true, then,” Josh whispered.
She wrenched herself back up. Josh was staring at her in disgust, a tear working its way down his cheek. The candlelight cast shadows across his face, darkening his eyes.
“In New York, yes,” Emerson choked out. “But not now. I swear, Josh. It was the worst mistake of my life and I would never, ever make it again. I—I love you.”
As soon as the words slipped out, she wished she could take them back. But they were words you couldn’t reverse, words you couldn’t misunderstand. They hung in the air between them, tainted and unreturned.
“I don’t know what to do, Em.” Another tear slid down Josh’s cheek. “I don’t know what to believe.” He kicked at a pile of rose petals, shaking his head. “Every time I let my guard down with you, I end up getting hurt.”
Emerson felt as if her chest were splitting in two. He was right. As long as Josh dated her, he was in danger. No one was safe when it came to her stalker. There was only one way to protect Josh. Only one way to make sure she never hurt him again.
“I know.” Her voice broke. “I’m not good for you right now. I’m not good for anyone right now.” Each word felt like a nail jabbing at her insides. She forced herself to keep going. “I do love you, Josh. I ha
ve for a long time. But I think I need some time apart. Some time alone.”
Josh’s eyes shone green-brown behind a film of tears. “You’re ending things?”
“I’m sorry,” Emerson whispered.
For a long moment, Josh just stared at her. “I really thought we could make it this time,” he said at last. “But I guess that only happens in fiction.” He didn’t hug her or say good-bye. He didn’t beg or try to sway her. He just gave her one last look, as if he was memorizing her face. Then he turned and walked out.
Emerson sank to the floor, a sob racking through her. She could hear Josh’s car revving up and screeching off. She ripped her horseshoe necklace off and threw it across the room. Luck couldn’t do anything for her anymore.
Ding!
The noise made her leap to her feet. It took her a minute to locate her phone in the pile of clothes.
They say that breaking up is hard to do. At least we still have each other.
CHAPTER TEN
Thursday, 7:40 AM
Sydney felt a stab of guilt as she watched Echo Bay recede in her rearview mirror. Right now, she should be taking her seat in homeroom, listening as Abby Wilkins droned on over the loudspeaker. Instead, she was headed toward Moorhead, Massachusetts, population three hundred. Well, three hundred, and one rehab center.
At 6:23 that morning, Guinness had called. He’d been granted visitor privileges for the day, and he wanted to see only her. Guinness had asked her to drive out after school, but there was no way she could wait that long. Sydney kept the windows down as she drove, hoping the rush of wind might drown out her thoughts. No such luck. Ten minutes into the drive and her brain was already a fun house of theories, twisting and contorting at every turn.
They all agreed that the kidnapper theory made sense. The same woman who had kidnapped Caitlin, and set up Jack Hudson to take the fall, was now torturing them. But how did it all connect to Kyla? And how did this adult woman know so much about their lives?
It had always felt to Sydney as if the darer was someone their age—someone they knew. Then again, it could be a woman who worked at Winslow. Sydney tried to imagine Principal Howard or Miss Hilbrook hiding in the hallways, shadowing their every move. A snort slipped out of her. The image would almost be funny if the reality wasn’t so horrible.
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