I pick at my fingernails. “She and I were in varsity volleyball together last year. She was—is—very loud, and she has this high-pitched laugh. It’s…unusual. One girl at school called it a kookaburra bird call, so we looked it up on YouTube and it sounded exactly like Melody’s laugh.” My foot refuses to stop tapping against the wood. “Anyway, Gideon and I heard that sound in the woods. Melody made it, but then, she got quieter. They sounded like they were”—my eyes divert to the wall—“doing other things after that.”
“What kinds of other things?” Detective Sawyer’s face is stoic.
Seriously? “Like kissing, I don’t know. That’s what kids sometimes do in that spot.”
“And do you sometimes listen?”
If I touched my face right now, my hand would scorch. “No! No.” I lower my voice. “Gideon and I usually go out there because it’s quiet. We weren’t expecting people.”
My mom stirs from her conversation with Detective Reyes. “Cassidy, is everything all right?”
“Yes, Mrs. Pratt,” Detective Sawyer answers. “Everything’s fine.” She smiles and turns back to me. “Just a couple more questions for now.” Her chin rests on the end of her pen. “Did you recognize the voice of the other individual?”
My teeth clamp together so hard my jaw hurts. Detective Sawyer’s eyes are fastened on mine. My tongue itches to push out the name Brandon Alvarez. But then I remember the wink of light in Seth’s window. The truth is I don’t know who’s doing this. Giving the cops false information will only make things worse. “I couldn’t hear it well enough, ma’am.”
“So, no idea?”
If the guy with the notebook gets arrested, he’ll hand it over. I tug harder on my fingernail. “No, sorry.”
Detective Sawyer frowns. “Mr. Hollander wasn’t with you the entire time. Is that correct?”
Terror locks my spine into a stiff, upright position.
“For example, he wasn’t in the”—she pauses—“clubhouse when you heard the cry for help. Or when you heard the other voice.”
This lunatic already got to the detective. He handed over the notebook. She knows I have no alibi.
“So it’s possible,” she continues, angling her head in thought, “that the second voice could’ve belonged to Mr. Hollander.” Her lips curl smugly.
A crack resounds in my head. Black. Tiny flickers of light. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak. Was this what the threat meant the whole time? Or burn the ones you love. Is he going to pin it all on Gideon? “No!” I finally say with too much force. “Gideon was sending a text. We both heard Melody talking to someone before he left. She wasn’t talking to herself!”
Detective Sawyer flinches and leans back toward her side of the sofa. Like she’s afraid of me.
This is exactly what Melody always wanted. For everyone to believe I’m dangerous. Now that she’s missing, she’s finally getting her way.
But is she missing?
Am I being threatened because I was there the day she was taken? Or am I simply the target of Melody’s most brilliant scheme yet? The photo was on her phone, after all.
I’ve ripped this fingernail tip off too low. Stinging pain shoots up to my elbow. My mom rushes over. “I think Cassidy’s had enough, Detectives.”
“Yes,” Detective Sawyer says, her eyes shining with fascination. Or satisfaction. She turns to my mom. “Thank you, Mrs. Pratt. We’ll be in touch.”
My mom walks the detectives out, and I retreat to my room. I shut the door behind me and call Gideon, but he doesn’t answer.
10
When I arrive at school, Gideon’s bike is chained to the rack in front of the school steps. He has a truck, but he only uses it when the weather’s bad. Normally, he’d be waiting for me by the fountain, but he’s obviously still mad at me. I need this argument between us to end so I can have my best friend back.
As I enter the double doors, an array of red curls accosts me. “Hey, Cassidy!” Emily glances quizzically from one side of me to the other. “Where’s your other half?”
“I was actually just looking for him. You didn’t see him?”
“No. I’ll help you look, though. I was putting up these posters, but I’m finished.” She points to the walls adorned with her handiwork.
I glance up at the colorful butcher paper advertising the Sadie Hawkins dance in three weeks. “Nice. Are you heading the dance committee again?”
“No, but I’m one of the core members. You gonna ask Gideon?”
“I doubt I’ll go.”
“Don’t say that.” Emily frowns. “I won’t complain about you freeing up Gideon for someone else, though. Not like I’d have a chance with him anyway.”
She glances at me wistfully, probably wanting some word of encouragement. Too bad I’m in the worst mood ever. “I wouldn’t know.”
“Oh.” Emily’s babbling stops for a moment. Then she smiles and continues talking like I’m the first person she’s seen all year. We wander the halls, pausing for me to peek through the tutoring center door, where Peter is helping someone who isn’t Gideon. As we approach the doors to the outer courtyard, a couple of juniors—Henry Belton and Jordan Lee—enter. When Henry sees us, he tilts his head and whispers to Jordan, who sneers and makes Psycho stabbing gestures. The two trot off, snickering.
My fists curl, but I notice Emily has gone quiet. Her eyes glaze the tile floors. “That wasn’t about me?” I ask.
Emily shrugs and keeps walking. “Doubt it. The Seth stuff took on renewed life when Melody went missing.”
I’m not the brunt of a joke for once. It doesn’t feel the way I thought it would.
Her eyes glisten. I never realized how much Seth’s sister was affected by all of the creepy stalker talk. We make it outside, past the open courtyard and along a path to where the grassy fields border the campus. Several boys are tossing a football and I spot a shirtless Gideon. My cheeks warm. A group of freshmen girls gathered on the outskirts of the field seem to feel the same way. He nears them to run down a misfired ball, and the girls race one another to get to it first, squealing as a small brunette with milkmaid braids hands it off to him.
From far away, his eyes snag mine, and he hesitates. But he turns back to continue passing the ball. My heart twists. He’s never ignored me like that before.
“Do you want to call him over?” asks Emily, twirling a blazing red spiral around her finger.
“Nah. He must’ve mentioned something about playing ball this morning and I just forgot. Let’s go.”
Her hopeful expression sinks. We plod back inside to wait for the bell.
At morning break, I glimpse Gideon hiding within the masses of students by the lockers. The dark circles under his eyes are visible from a distance. But he disappears, and I’m left standing alone by my locker.
My eyes sting as I exchange books. I don’t know what else to do, so I trudge over to the group gathered in the courtyard, hoping I can finally confront Brandon.
Laura slinks through the crowd to stand beside me. “You okay?”
No, I am not okay. I can’t confide in my only friend without putting his life in danger. I can’t be honest with the police, or they’ll think I had something to do with Melody’s disappearance. I have no viable options, and I feel like I’m suffocating.
But there’s no way I’m telling Laura Gellman any of that.
“I’m fine, thanks.”
“Well, I’m always here for you, if you need anything.” I’d like to knock the saccharine smile off her mouth, but her delicate face would probably crack. “Ever since Melody disappeared, I just—I could use a friend too.”
Ah, yes. The real reason Laura’s talking to me. To garner sympathy now that her BFF is missing. “I’m really sorry about Melody. You must be a nervous wreck.” To be honest, she does look especially high-strung today. Her always-haughty voice s
ounds a bit squeaky.
“I’m wondering if the cops are working all the angles,” she adds.
“Angles?”
“Yeah, you know. Taking into consideration all the people in town who have a propensity for that kind of thing.”
Is that a dig at me? My eyes narrow. “Actually, Laura, I was in the middle of looking for your ex. Have you seen him?”
Laura’s concerned expression melts away like ice on hot asphalt. “Why would I know anything about him?” She spins around and heads down the hall.
I duck outside to the back courtyard. A group of guys sit along the low brick wall at the back of the fenced-in area, laughing over someone’s phone. On one of the picnic tables, a girl sips from a canteen while reading a paperback. I stop at the vending machines, digging through my wallet for quarters for a soda, when a hand falls on my shoulder.
I jump, turning straight into Brandon. “Hey, Cass.” His voice is low, eyes prodding. “Can we talk real quick?”
I freeze before spitting out, “Sure.” Then I follow him to a spot in front of the wall, away from the huddle of boys.
“Hey,” he whispers, leaning in close like he did at the party. This time, his breath smells sweet, like he’s been sipping cherry cola rather than beer. “So you were there in the woods when someone took Melody?”
“Yeah.” I try to gauge his expression.
“It’s totally creepy, right?”
Almost as creepy you acting surprised. “Mm-hmm.” He’s visibly shaken, but I can’t read his eyes. I know I’m tired, but it’s almost like he’s leery of me. The way people are always leery of Fire Girl. The thought rattles me, and I take a step back.
“Cass.” He lays a hand on my wrist. Gently. But alarm bells blare in my head. I want to shake myself free. “I know you didn’t have anything to do with this.”
I blink. How did he manage to twist everything around? Keep cool. If he has the notebook, the last thing I want to do is spook him. His hand lowers.
“And you know I had nothing to do with this, right?”
I nod. “Of course.” Because we know each other so well. “We weren’t the only people in Maribel that Melody pissed off.”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Still, it’s such a coincidence. I mean, after everything we said.”
“Yeah, I know. But we were just messing around,” I say, hoping to provoke him.
“Right,” he says, but I hear the doubt blaring through that meek, one-syllable word. “I don’t know the details, but I can’t get over the similarities to what you wrote.”
Is he taunting me? I stick my fists into my kangaroo pocket. “You know what’s even weirder? I can’t find that notebook anywhere.”
He pulls back, mouth open. “It’s gone?” But that sparkle lights his eyes. He’s definitely testing me.
“Almost like someone took it and carried out the plan.”
His brows cinch together. “I hope not. That would almost make it…our fault. Right?” He frowns, spinning around before I can answer. An uneasy feeling pins my sneakers to the cement. I never expected Brandon to fall to his knees and confess to whatever I heard in the woods that day.
But I didn’t expect him to be so convincing. He looked genuinely concerned that I’d done something to Melody.
In third period math, there’s a warm-up equation on the board, so I tug out a sheet of lined paper and copy it down. Thoughts about Brandon swim around in my head, preventing me from solving it. Mrs. Larson is chatting with a girl up at her desk, allowing the classroom chatter to swell to a dull roar. I try to tune it out, to block out the memory of Brandon’s face as he examined me in the hall. But behind me, Stephanie Reed giggles loudly. “Laura’s going to kill you!”
Tina Robbins shushes her. My ears perk up.
I turn in my seat, quirking my lips slyly. Despite being one of Laura’s unfortunate minions, Tina has never been anything but sweet to me and everyone else in this school. “What’d you do now, Tina?”
Her round cheeks bloom pink and she glares at Stephanie. “I told you to keep your voice down, Steph.” Her eyes flick my way. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Stephanie twists a strand of raven-black hair and grins. “It didn’t look like nothing when you got into Brandon’s car.” Stephanie, on the other hand, is the opposite of sweet.
Tina’s eyes widen with panic. “He just gave me a ride to town after you guys ditched me. You can’t say anything. I’m not the only one who could get in trouble. Brandon told Coach Vargas he was sick. He could get benched.”
My brain thrums in my skull. No. “Wait? Are you talking about Tuesday?”
Stephanie nods. “Coach ended practice after you got hit with the ball. Something about zero tolerance for bullying. Which was kind of ridiculous because Laura was the only one laughing—”
“We would never do that to you, Cass,” Tina cuts in, but Stephanie’s eyes trail off in disinterest.
My jaw clenches. Of course Laura started mocking me as soon as I was out of earshot.
“But it was kind of the best punishment ever,” Stephanie adds, “because she ended practice before we had to run lines.”
“Did you and Brandon drive around all afternoon?” I use air quotes and Stephanie laughs into her palm. I focus on my warm-up paper, doodling meaningless lines like I’m half-invested in the conversation. But my heart is thumping.
Tina huffs. “Can you two please stop? It was one time. I’ll probably never see him again, so there’s no point in talking about it.”
Tina and Stephanie continue quietly bickering, but I don’t hear any of it. I slump down in my seat, trying to piece my shredded mind back together.
Brandon was in town with Tina the afternoon Melody was attacked.
He couldn’t have been the voice in the woods.
11
I head to volleyball practice seventh period, hoping it will take my mind off things. Instead, the topic of Melody’s disappearance springs up before we finish warm-ups.
“I heard she was kidnapped by that weird guy, Sam or Steve,” Kate Lowe calls from the back of the court. “Remember? The super-creepy guy who used to stare at us in the cafeteria?”
“Seth,” Tina corrects.
“Yeah, Seth. That’s what I heard.”
Two years ago, Seth was completely normal, other than the fact that he spent a lot of time in the library. But then he started becoming more and more of a loner, hanging out under the outside bleachers where the cheerleaders practice. He started wearing eyeliner and rumors began floating around that he stalked girls.
In a larger town with a larger school, a kid like Seth would probably go unnoticed. But at Maribel High, Seth became the token weirdo. And after high school, he became the strange, silent local drugstore clerk whose eyes follow you throughout your trip to pick up deodorant or shampoo. His gaze can burrow through your clothes, until you become so uncomfortable that sometimes you just walk out without purchasing anything on your list.
Emily was right about the boys in the hall today. It didn’t take long for our tiny school to circulate its own version of what happened to Melody. But…could their version be the right one? If Seth found out what I did to him two years ago, he would have another mammoth reason to want to pin all of this on me.
Laura pipes up now from behind me. “No, I heard she ran away from home because her parents got mad after they caught her with so many guys. She was always kind of, you know.”
She dashes past me and I glare at the back of her head. It’s just like her to speak ill of the recently disappeared. She never had the guts to say anything like that back when her BFF was running this place.
Kate passes up the ball, but it’s a misfire. I see the flash of white and dive for it, realizing too late that our middle blocker, Lillian Jeffries, has called me off.
We collide, tumbling into a
massive heap. The ball rolls pathetically away, back under the net.
“Watch what you’re doing, Cassidy!” yells Lillian, rubbing her forehead. The sentiment is echoed by the rest of the team. Kate whispers under her breath, “Shh. Don’t piss off Fire Girl. What if Melody was right about her?”
What if she was? I’ll never know if Melody was right about me, since I can’t remember what happened after I fought with Sara Leeds in the playhouse the day she died. Melody has always seemed so certain I started the fire on purpose. The last time she gave me hell for it was two weeks ago.
On Election Day.
It was the day we were to elect the new captain of the varsity squad. Coach wanted us to decide for ourselves. She must not have fully trusted us, though, because she asked Melody—last year’s captain—to stop by practice for the occasion. She took over like she’d never left.
Kate and Lillian had already talked me into putting my name in. I knew I’d be up against Laura, but they promised I’d have the votes. Melody held the basket with the slips of papers containing the names, pausing before reading them. There were a few qualifications she had to go over, just to ensure that all of the candidates were worthy of the title of senior captain. I wasn’t nervous about that part; the qualifications are the same every year. I have a perfect GPA, I’ve been playing volleyball since freshman year, and I’ve never had any disciplinary issues. Lillian gave me a subtle thumbs-up. I was already envisioning typing the title out on a college application: Senior Captain of Varsity Volleyball.
Melody began reading the list. “Number one. Candidate must have a GPA over 3.5.” Check.
“Number two. Candidate can have no suspensions during the previous three school years.” Check.
“Number three. Candidate has been a member of either varsity or junior varsity volleyball for three years.” Check.
My cheeks started to swell. I could feel it coming. But Laura turned to wink at me, and my stomach dove straight into the gym floor.
“Number four.” There is no number four. There’s never a number four. “Candidate must have a clear criminal record. This includes arsonist-type activity that resulted in the death of any other individual.” My face burned as she looked up from her list. “Our leaders should be able to protect us, not endanger us, after all.”
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