Kiss and Tell

by Jacqueline Green

  Joey—Joe—gave her a questioning look. She shrugged. “All right,” he said. “Looks like we’re in.”

  Several rounds of Kings later, the rooftop felt more like a carousel, the glass railing spinning around Sydney. “My turn!” Brie called out. She made a big show of drawing a card. “Yes!” she squealed, waving it through the air. “I get to make a rule.” She stroked an imaginary beard as she looked slowly around the group. Sydney swigged more beer, trying to ignore the incessant spinning. “Okay,” Brie said, finally. “The next person to draw a four… has to kiss someone. And I’m talking a real kiss,” she clarified. “No on-the-cheek bullshit.”

  Sydney finished off her beer as the game continued around the circle. The air felt thicker than usual, wrapping her in fog.

  “Your turn.” Brie nudged her in the side. Sydney nodded, trying to shake off the fog.

  She pawed heavily at the deck, extracting a card. “Four of hearts,” she read.

  “We’ve got one!” Brie howled. She thrust her beer into the air. “Go ahead.” She winked at Sydney. “Kiss away.”

  “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Fencer chanted. Next to him, a slim guy who’d tied the sleeves of his blazer around his head leaned forward, puckering up. Sydney looked helplessly at Joey.

  “Sorry,” he mouthed.

  “Better choose someone before you’re an octogenarian, Sydney,” Brie said, giggling.

  “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!” Fencer yelled.

  The fog wrapped around Sydney, making the world feel underwater. Her eyes landed on Joey’s lips. Nice, she thought again. And then suddenly she was there, pressing her lips against his. They were as full as they looked, and warm, and he didn’t pull away, just kissed her back, his hand wrapping around her arm. And even through the haze she could feel it: a warmth, blazing from her stomach all the way to her toes. A minute passed, or ten, she couldn’t tell. She pulled him closer, the kiss deepening, the warmth spreading.…

  “Go, Joe!” someone screamed.

  Just like that, reality set back in. She pulled back, the roof spinning faster than ever. She could feel eyes boring into her from every side. “Joe’s the man!” someone else hooted.

  “I—I have to go,” she mumbled. She rose unsteadily to her feet. The thoughts she’d kept at bay all day suddenly lifted to life: big, sweeping gales of thoughts, her very own Octo-storm. The darer. Her dad. Kyla.

  She fought her way across the crowded rooftop. What had she been thinking, abandoning her life like this? Joey might have shed his past and started over, but she had almost a full year left at Winslow. Almost a full year left with the darer if this didn’t stop soon. She stumbled onto the elevator and pulled out her nearly dead phone. She had one new text from Tenley, whom she hadn’t spoken to since the tree house. We need to talk, Syd. U can’t avoid me forever!

  “Wait!” Joey slipped into the elevator right before the door closed. “What just happened? Are you okay?”

  The elevator jolted as it descended, making Sydney stumble. Joey reached out to steady her. “Come on. Let’s sit down.” He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her out of the elevator, toward a bench outside. Sydney sank gratefully onto it. It was quiet in front of the ivy-covered building, the noise of the party as distant as rain clouds. Now that she was away from the crowd, the spinning in her head slowed.

  “What’s going on?” Joey asked.

  Sydney clasped and unclasped her hands. “Things have just been tough at home lately.” She sneaked a peek at him out of the corner of her eyes. He was watching her steadily. “You’re lucky you got out when you did.”

  “It’s the Echo Bay Kool-Aid, isn’t it?” he asked. Sydney sneaked another peek. He was leaning forward, his elbows propped up on his knees. “I swear, it’s like no one has their own mind there. Zombie town.”

  “The zombies are after my dad now.” Sydney hadn’t meant to say it, but now the words hung suspended between them, impossible to ignore.

  She waited for Joey to jump down her throat with questions, but he said nothing, just sat there watching her. She thought of the reason he was at Danford in the first place. Before her dad, before all of this, it had been him.

  “People are accusing him of something horrible,” she continued. She chose her words carefully, knowing just how close to home they must hit. “And, believe me, he has done horrible stuff. But I don’t know. My gut is telling me that this thing… it isn’t him.” Sydney slumped down with a sigh. “Maybe my gut’s the problem. I think it might have multiple personalities.”

  “No way,” Joey said immediately. “Your gut is all you have, Sydney.” He turned toward her, his expression fierce. “You’ve got to trust your instincts. When you don’t… that’s when you get lost.”

  Sydney closed her eyes. When they’d accused Joey of being the darer, had she really believed it could be him? Or had she just followed along blindly like everyone else? She wanted to believe that she was different, but the heat in her cheeks told her otherwise. She had never actually stopped and wondered if what they were doing felt right.

  She opened her eyes. Joey was still watching her, a concerned expression on his face. “You’re right,” she said slowly. “Thanks.”

  Her dad was a million and one things, but he wasn’t the darer. She felt it deep down in her gut, in that place that went beyond thinking, beyond logic.

  Now she just had to prove it.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Saturday, 9:25 PM

  From the Neddles Island bridge, Calum’s house looked as if it belonged in a painting. The windows glimmered with light, casting a deep glow across the sloping, leaf-scattered yard. On every side, the ocean rose to meet the grass, waves black and thrashing: a water-fence that grew and shrank, grew and shrank. The house itself brimmed with revelers. From a distance, they looked like bright splotches, dotting the deck and moving between windows.

  Tenley felt a dart of satisfaction as she drove through the iron gates, which had been propped open for the night. For two days now, she and Emerson had been secretly following Matt Morgan around, on the hunt for any proof of foul play. But Matt’s life had turned out to be annoyingly boring. No rendezvous or illicit meet-ups. Just firehouse and home, plus a few stops at a therapist’s office.

  There were still things that didn’t quite fit, too. How did Matt connect to the kidnapper, for one? And where did Caitlin and Tenley, not to mention Sydney, work into Matt’s motives? And, to top it all off, where was all the money coming from? Their darer had deep pockets—deep enough to rig their cars with surveillance and pay off Gerry Hackensack, the previous fire chief. Matt Morgan was the local fire chief; it was a noble job, but not a high-paying one. So who was funding him?

  They couldn’t actually do anything until they had more information. Emerson kept hoping Delancey’s key would bring them answers. But the purple door—if that’s even what it opened—still eluded them.

  She might have failed in darer-land, but at least she’d succeeded here. The party was packed.

  Calum’s voice greeted her as she stepped inside the house’s marble-floored entryway. “Rule number three,” he boomed. “No going in the basement!” His voice was so loud that it echoed off the windowed walls and rattled the crystal chandeliers that dangled in every room. Tenley looked around, searching for its owner. But Calum was nowhere to be found. Instead, her eyes landed on a large intercom jutting out from the wall. A green light was flashing at the top of it.

  “Obey those three rules,” the voice continued, exploding out of the intercom’s speaker, “and you can partake in all the debauchery you please!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding,” Tenley growled. She pushed her way through throngs of people, hunting for Calum’s white-blond head. She finally spotted him in the kitchen, talking to Abby Wilkins. Tenley strode over and grabbed his arm. “Can I borrow Calum for a second, Abby? We have some party logistics to discuss.”

  Holding tightly to Calum’s arm, she yanked him into the pantry off the
kitchen. The shelves were packed with canned food, enough to feed an army. For a second it distracted her. “Is there an apocalypse coming that I should know about?”

  “Octo-storm,” Calum replied solemnly. “Though we’re always stocked at the Bauer household. My dad says that preparation is akin to—”

  “Forget I asked.” Tenley put her hands on her hips, glowering up at Calum. “Rules? Over an intercom? That was not in my party-planning guide, Calum!”

  “I took artistic liberty,” Calum replied. “This house is my dad’s baby. It’s important that no one swing on the chandeliers—they’re all antiques—or go in the basement, where my dad has an office, or use the bedrooms for, well, you know, romantic relations. The intercom was the most efficient way to spread the word.”

  Tenley swallowed back a groan. “Here. I have something for you.” She pulled a small, gift-wrapped box out of her purse and handed it to Calum. “Happy birthday. It’s a thumb drive,” she added before he could bother to unwrap it. “You know, for all your computer stuff.”

  Calum’s jaw came unhinged as he stared at the box. “I… uh… wow.”

  “You don’t have to look so surprised,” Tenley huffed. She started back to the kitchen, and Calum followed. She scanned hopefully for Tim, but she didn’t see him anywhere.

  “Right,” Calum said quickly. “I just…” He shook his head, sticking the box in his pocket. “Never mind. Thank you, Tenley,” he said, his voice turning formal.

  “You’re welcome.” Tenley’s cheeks warmed. “Now time to forget the rules, Calum, and have what we common folk like to call fun.” She grabbed a beer off the counter and passed it to him.

  Calum glanced past her as he took it. She turned around to find Sydney making her way through the crowd, looking as if she’d rather be mucking a horse stall than attending this party. Tenley bounced nervously on the balls of her feet. Sydney had been avoiding Tenley and Emerson ever since their fight in the tree house on Thursday. But finally, Tenley and Emerson had agreed: Sydney had to know what they’d found in her dad’s trophy box, whether she wanted to hear it or not. So a few hours earlier, Tenley had sent Sydney a text, detailing their finds. She hadn’t heard back.

  Tenley had assumed she wouldn’t be seeing Sydney tonight, considering her aversion to all things Winslow. Not even Emerson was coming to the party, claiming she needed a break from the whole human species. But here Sydney was. By the way Calum was gazing at her, Tenley had to assume he’d talked her into coming.

  Tenley shifted nervously as Sydney made her way toward them. For the first time, she noticed that there was a guy with her. He had buzzed hair and chiseled features, and he wore a Red Sox T-shirt that showed off defined arms. Tenley rocked backward in surprise when she recognized him. “What’s Joey Bakersfield doing here?”

  “I don’t know.” Calum frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. He’s nervous to see Sydney, Tenley realized.

  “The big one-eight,” Sydney said when she reached the kitchen. “Feeling one year wiser yet?”

  “Still waiting on that.” Calum gave Sydney a small smile. “I’m glad you came.”

  “Look who’s in town,” Sydney said, gesturing at Joey. She kept her attention firmly on Calum as she spoke.

  “Good to see you, Joey.” Calum extended his hand for the most awkward handshake Tenley had ever witnessed. “You’re at Danford now, right?”

  Joey nodded. “Yup.” An uncomfortable silence fell over the group. It was made even more pronounced by the laughter and voices walling them in.

  “Calum went to Danford for a while!” Tenley jumped in. She smiled in Sydney’s direction, but Sydney ignored her. “Have you heard of any crazy senior pranks yet, Joey?” Tenley persisted, remembering Calum’s story.

  Joey scrunched up his forehead. “Senior pranks?”

  “Yeah, there were wild ones when you were there, right, Calum?” Tenley nudged him in the side with a pointed look. “You helped some seniors make strawberry jelly squirt out of showerheads or something?”

  “Yeah, the pranks can get pretty intense.” Calum sneaked a peek at Sydney before focusing back on Joey. “But you’re new. I’m sure you’ll hear all about them once you acclimate.”

  “You’ll have to tell us what the next one is,” Tenley continued.

  Crash!

  The sound of breaking glass made them all jump. Tenley turned around to find a gorgeous stained glass lamp lying in a million shattered pieces on the floor. “Sorry!” Lizzy Helman squealed, swaying unsteadily on her feet.

  Calum sighed. “I better…”

  “We’ll help,” Sydney supplied quickly. By the way she grabbed Joey’s arm, it was clear the we did not include Tenley.

  Tenley turned in a slow circle. All around her people were laughing and drinking. Nearby, Missy Henderson and Hannah Welsh were cuddled in the corner of a couch, heads bent together. If Tenley squinted, it could be her and Caitlin there instead, so close it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began. She looked away, her chest squeezing.

  She moved farther into the house. She’d hoped this party would lure out the darer, so what better time to start the hunt than now? No one was talking to her anyway. But when she neared the dining room, she faltered. Tim was in there, laughing with his friends. He looked up, his eyes meeting hers. He gave her the tiniest of smiles, and suddenly hope wafted through Tenley, silencing all thoughts of the darer. Tim had changed his mind. He was going to come over. He—

  He turned away.

  Tenley sank onto a white leather barstool in the kitchen, tears pricking at her eyes. She knew she should be out there, searching for the darer, but suddenly she couldn’t muster the energy. As much as she despised their stalker, what if he or she had been right all along? What if her whole life was nothing more than a game?

  For years she’d held her cards close to her chest. She’d waited her turn and planned out her strategy, and then gone in for the win. But she didn’t want to play anymore. She just wanted Tim. Class-cutting, cold-weather-surfing, hemp-wearing, hairbrush-lacking Tim.

  She slid off the stool, feeling jittery all over. The darer could wait. This couldn’t.

  She squared her shoulders as she stalked to the dining room, but her insides liquefied with every step. She stopped next to the table and cleared her throat. All three boys turned to look at her, but it was Tim’s gaze she felt, warming her skin. “Can we talk for a minute?” she asked him.

  The pause that followed felt like an eternity. In the ensuing silence, Tenley could feel her pulse throbbing in her neck. “You guys mind?” Tim asked his friends gruffly. He was wearing a dark blue sweater that matched his eyes, and Tenley was filled with the urge to press herself against it.

  “Go.” Sam waved him on. “We need more beer anyway.”

  Tenley’s heart beat in time with her footsteps as she and Tim wound through the crowd, looking for a place to talk. “This way,” Tenley suggested. A long hallway led away from the party, toward the back of the house. An Oriental rug carpeted the floor, and gilded framed paintings lined the walls. The hallway emerged into an empty entertainment room. Tenley went over to the couch, and Tim followed. His leg brushed against hers as they sat down, sending a tingle up her spine.

  “I have something I want to say,” she told him. “And I don’t want you to interrupt until I’m finished. Understood?”

  Tim nodded. His wavy blond hair was flattened against his head, as if he’d recently taken off a hat. He’d replaced his broken hemp necklace with a new one, and it looked too perfect on him, as if it needed to be dunked in the ocean several dozen times. He reached up now to fiddle with it, waiting for her to speak.

  She swallowed hard. No more games.

  “What I did to Jessie… do you know I didn’t even regret it at first? I’ve done things like that my whole life, Tim. Selfish, scheming things. I was so used to it that I didn’t feel it, you know? What it did to other people.” She fidgeted with the zipper on her red moto jacket.
She hadn’t planned this speech, but the words kept coming, more honest than anything she’d said in a long time. What she’d done to Jessie—and Calum and Tricia and Joey and so many others—she couldn’t blame that on a dare. She’d made the choices herself.

  “Caitlin was the only one who knew how to save me from myself,” she continued. “She was my conscience, I guess. But she’s gone now and I don’t want to be this person anymore.” Her voice broke, but she kept going. “I’m different with you, Tim. Better.” She put her hand on his knee, and he didn’t pull away. His eyes met hers, and they reminded her a little of Caitlin, how kind they were. “I’ve played games for long enough. I just—I can’t do it anymore.” She paused. “I want to be with you, Tim. I want to make this work.”

  He was so close that she could feel his breath on her face: tiny gusts of warm air. He smelled like sunscreen and ocean. “You done?” His voice was low and husky. It made something flare to life in her chest. She couldn’t wait any longer.

  She answered by kissing him. For one long, horrible second, he resisted. Then his hand was in her hair and he was kissing her back.

  His lips brushed her neck as he lowered her back on the couch, and she could feel herself getting lost in his touch. The party and even her thoughts receded, until there was only Tim. The way he touched her hair and slid his mouth down her collarbone. The weight of him on top of her, warm and solid. His breath in her ear and her hands under his sweater, skimming the taut skin beneath. She wanted to stay there forever, tucked safely together, where nothing else could touch her. “You keep surprising me, Tenley,” Tim whispered, and she kissed him harder, until there was no couch, no air, no party. Just them.

  The lights in the room shut off.

  Tim pulled back. “What the hell?” he murmured.

  It was pitch-black. Tenley couldn’t see a thing. Blood rushed to her head, a deafening sound. It all returned at once: Someone out there wanted her dead.

  Tim was too heavy. She pushed him away and scrambled off the couch, bumping unsteadily into a table. “Tenley?” She could see Tim’s outline in the darkness, rising from the couch. “What’s wrong?”