They'll Never Catch Us

by Jessica Goodman

  Little notes of laughter floated up through the sky and a bubbling fury boiled in my stomach. Why was it so easy for them? To joke around. To be happy. To go fast.

  None of that has ever been easy for me. Nothing has. Not after Dad followed Shira’s lead, ditching us for a new family in Putnam County, and Mom had to take the job at the school that pays like crap. Not after we had to move from our big farmhouse to a run-down cottage by the pizza place. Not after I had to stop shopping at Julia’s dad’s shop and wear hand-me-down running clothes from the thrift store.

  I had to claw my way into Tamara’s good graces back in middle school, stake my claim in her crew, and do everything right to stay there. I let Julia walk all over me, copy my tests, and treat me like garbage. I worked my ass off, running sprints and lifting weights long after everyone else went home, to land my spot on the varsity squad. Keeping these things was a battle I had to fight every single day.

  I was breathing heavy then, tracking them as they reached the top of the hill, just after the pit. But that’s when I heard another voice. Low with a fake casual lilt to it. “Oh, hey,” Noah said.

  “Noah,” Mila said, surprise creeping into her voice. “What are you doing here?”

  “We just wanted to—” Ellie said, and I knew at once it was a setup. I crouched lower so I couldn’t see their faces, but I got close enough to glimpse the backs of their heads, Ellie’s shoulders tensing.

  I listened to them quibble, to Noah spew his brutish bullshit. “We just wanted to make sure you wouldn’t tell anyone, okay?”

  Mila argued with them both and I was impressed by her confidence. She was mad. Mad at being ambushed, mad at being made to feel like she was a pawn in these dumb Edgewater games. I could tell because that’s how I felt too.

  But when Noah said, “We need you to keep quiet,” I knew she didn’t have a chance.

  “You know what? Maybe everyone should know what liars you both are,” Mila spit. “I can’t believe you set me up like this, Ellie.” Mila spun around, ready to leave, but then Noah set off after her. In one enormous push he sent her over the edge of the pit, down, down below.

  Ellie and Noah huddled together, and I tried to inch closer to hear what was going on. Finally Noah raised his voice. “Mila,” Noah shouted down to her. “We’re going to leave now.”

  Noah grasped Ellie by both shoulders and shook her hard. Then Ellie, seemingly still in shock, nodded and allowed herself to be steered away from the path, out of sight and back toward the road.

  I don’t know how long I stayed crouched in my position, but the sun was halfway up the horizon when I heard a muffled grunt and then her voice, mumbling to herself in anger. Mila was trying to climb out.

  I scrambled up to the top of the ridge, and when I stood where Ellie and Noah had been, I could see straight down into the pit. Mila was there, with dirt stains on her shirt and her cheeks, clutching her ankle. Dark red blood crusted above her eyebrow.

  “Raven?” she called. “Is that you?”

  I froze mid-step, and in that moment, I knew I had a choice. I could turn around and leave her there, letting Noah and Ellie come back and have all the power. Or I could take control of my own life, for once. I could convince her that it was the right thing to do to tell Tamara about everything—that she needed to be the one to do it. It would throw both the Stecklers off their game, paving the way for me to beat them all. The decision was easy.

  “I need your help,” Mila called. “Did you see what they did?” Her voice was trembling now. “Help me, Raven. My ankle’s twisted and I can’t get out. I need help.”

  “Hold on,” I said, sidestepping toward her. “I got you.”

  “Oh, thank god,” Mila said, desperation in her voice. “I’m going to throw my shoe up there, okay? My foot’s swelling and I can’t wear it.”

  One lilac sneaker sailed over the edge and landed right beside me. It was flashy and absurd for a casual morning jog. A reminder of what she had achieved—and what I hadn’t. I wanted them. I wanted them so badly.

  “You wore your State sneakers on a morning run?” I asked.

  Mila laughed. “Kinda silly, right? They remind me of why I run. How hard I’ve worked.” Her voice broke at the end. “Damn it, I really hope I’m not out for the season.”

  I stared at the shoe, replaying all of the meets I lost, all of the ribbons I let slip away. A few years ago, life seemed like it would open itself up to me and that I could be anything I wanted. I could be a winner. But after Shira disappeared, and I saw the way hard work did not always pay off, I knew that was just the dream of a child.

  “I’m so glad you’re here. Everyone always said you were so reliable,” Mila said with relief. Her words snapped me out of my thoughts.

  Reliable. I hate that word. People only say that because Shira proved to be the opposite. I didn’t have the luxury of being flighty or unpredictable or spontaneous. Shira stole all of that. And now the Stecklers and Mila stole my only way out of this town. But maybe there was still a chance for me.

  It happened quickly then. My plan took shape.

  “Raven?” Mila called. “You still there?”

  “Yes,” I said, my voice a hoarse whisper. I tried to drown out my thoughts and focus on the task at hand. I spun around and saw a branch, heavy and long. I grabbed at the wood and heaved it over my shoulder, dragging it to the pit. “Here,” I said. “Can you climb out with this?” I dropped one end down below so Mila could use it as a way to get out.

  I gripped the branch, holding it steady while Mila pushed herself up.

  “You got it?” I asked.

  Mila grunted, exhausted. “I think so,” she said.

  She climbed farther up. She was almost at the top when I did it.

  I could feel my grip slipping. I tried to summon my strength—at least I told myself I did. But then I let it go, the wood sliding out of my gloved hands.

  “Raven!” Mila called, scared and confused as she fell backward into the pit.

  I heard her skull collide with a large flat rock at the bottom in a screeching, cracking sound that sliced through the air and turned my insides into ice. The air went still and I tiptoed toward the pit. I peered over the edge to see her sprawled out on the ground where Noah and Ellie had left her like an animal. The branch was next to her, leaning against the side like it had fallen right there, just another act of nature.

  “Mila,” I whispered. But no one responded. The birds rustled their feathers overhead and I knew whatever had happened could not be undone.

  I scanned the scene, trying to see what could tie me to this place. I saw a flash of red. Mila’s phone, facedown in the dirt. I picked it up carefully with my gloved hands, more out of curiosity than anything else.

  And when I saw the shoe, just sitting there, another memory came back to me. The Edgewater killer. He always took his victims’ shoelaces as a sick trophy. It was almost too easy. When the police eventually found Mila, they’d assume that either Kendall Fitzwater was back or that a deranged copycat killer had come along. Neither would lead back to me, and with a few key pieces of planted evidence, I could blame the whole thing on Ellie or Stella. With both sisters tied up as suspects, the season would be mine for the taking.

  My brain spun with possibilities. I gently nudged the shoelace out of its holes and stuffed it inside the pocket of my leggings along with the phone. Then I ran.

  Within an hour I was sitting in the passenger seat of Julia’s SUV, on our way to school, singing along to an old Britney Spears song like we always did.

  Mila was gone. And only I knew the truth. For the first time in a long time, I felt powerful.

  At first it seemed easy enough to set my traps. Once I charged Mila’s cell phone, I found the incriminating texts about Georgetown from Stella and the selfie that featured Ellie’s head bobbing in the background. I knew dropping her phone
during the search party would lead Detective Parker to the Stecklers.

  But when Parker became even more fixed on Stella instead of Ellie, I tried to help their investigation along. I slipped Mila’s mud-stained ID, which had been in her phone case, into Stella’s locker and watched as it fell while she was talking to Tamara. It was easy to tell Principal Pérez like a concerned witness.

  I thought they would assume that Stella killed Mila to knock her out of the competition. I mean, she basically tried to do that with Allison Tarley last year.

  But as time passed and no body was found, I started to get worried. Maybe Mila survived somehow and had made her way home. But that was impossible, wasn’t it? Was there any way I could be found out? I stayed calm by reminding myself that there was nothing tying me to Mila or the pit. No evidence, no clues, no obvious motive. I had, I told myself, committed the perfect crime.

  They did find Mila, though. Buried under brush and mud, the earth taking hold after the wild storm that tore through town that day. That only caused Parker and his cronies to focus even more intently on Stella.

  I never once worried that Ellie would turn herself in. I assumed she would let Stella take the fall. She had too much to lose, and they never seemed that close anyway. Plus, her mental game would be too rocked to focus on winning.

  But I didn’t think about the invisible tether that kept those sisters so chained to one another. Shira and I were never like that. We always kept our distance from one another, orbiting each other carefully with no intention of making contact. I thought I could break Stella and Ellie individually. I thought they would turn on each other. But I was wrong.

  It’s only now that I realize who could have saved me from this year. Who I could have turned to. And I killed her. I let her die. Mila and I were cut from the same cloth. Two betrayed girls desperately trying to exchange the cards we’d been dealt. We had dreams. We had grit. And I took that all away.

  But what can I say to the people in front of me? To Tamara and Julia, who thought they knew me. To Noah, the scumbag who threw everything off the rails. And to Stella and Ellie, who started all this, who ruined my chances at getting out of this hellhole over and over and over again.

  There’s nothing to say. All I can do is run.

  42

  ELLIE

  It was Raven. Sweet, vanilla, almost-as-fast Raven. She’s the one who framed Stella. Who killed Mila. Whose want was so big, she burned everything to the ground. I thought only Stella and I were like that. That the hungry need, the desire to win, the explosion of fury we experienced when we lost—I thought that was only ours. That we were the weird ones, the exceptions.

  But now I know that’s not true. We all have that in us somewhere. What differentiates us is what we do with it, how far we take it.

  “Ellie Steckler?” Detective Parker calls. He’s holding a clipboard and leaning up against the doorframe of the waiting room at the police station. The room is dingy, like every wall could use a fresh coat of paint or a good scrub.

  “Ellie?” Parker calls again. I stand this time and walk over to him, wrapping my fleece tighter around my middle.

  Stella stands behind me and reaches for my hand. “She’s a minor,” she says. “You can’t question her without our parents.” Stella straightens her back, nudging her chin upward. My heart crumbles, grateful and weary. I’m so undeserving of this protection after what I’ve done, what I’ve put her through.

  Parker runs a hand through his hair. He turns to me. “You wanna wait or what?” But I know what I have to do. I shake my head and squeeze Stella’s fingers.

  “No,” I say. “Stella can come in. I’m ready.”

  “Ellie, no,” she says, her voice sharp. But my mind is made up and I float by Parker. The room is sparse, with two chairs on either side of an aluminum table. There’s no two-way mirror, no cameras. Just . . . us.

  I sit down in one of the wobbly chairs, and tell Detective Parker everything.

  43

  STELLA

  Ellie speaks with a strange calm I didn’t know she possessed. I don’t let her hand go. Not to flinch when she tells Parker how she led Mila into the woods or when she explains what happened over the summer and that Noah convinced her that their lives would be ruined if anyone found out. That she now knows that was bullshit.

  When Ellie finishes, she leans back in her chair, deflated, and looks to the stucco ceiling. “I deserve to be punished,” she says.

  Parker rests his elbows on the table, ready to say something. But then the door swings open and Mom and Dad burst into the room.

  “Girls, we’re leaving,” Mom says, furious. “Now.”

  I start to stand but Ellie’s butt stays planted in the seat. “I’m part of this,” she says. “I set the plan in motion. I deserve this.”

  “Not another word, Ellie,” Dad says. Mom’s eyes are pleading and I wonder if she wants a drink, if this may be what finally breaks our family for good.

  Parker clears his throat. “Ellie, you can go now,” he says in a soft, kind voice. Then he turns to Mom and Dad. “We’ll be in touch,” he says.

  Mom mutters something under her breath and turns to the door. “Come on,” Dad says, resting his hands on our shoulders. “Let’s go home.”

  I follow Ellie out the door. The station is quiet. Through the windows I see the sun setting outside, turning the walls pink and orange. When I take another step, the light streams through the window, blinding me for just a moment. I avert my gaze and swing my head toward another interrogation room, where the door is wide open. Inside, I see Raven, sitting at a table just like the one we were behind. Her red hair has fallen out of its ponytail and her skin is pale, her freckles muted. She sobs silently, her shoulders heaving up and down, and all I can think is Good.

  * * *

  —

  Principal Pérez asks us to stay home from school for the rest of the week while they “figure everything out,” she tells Mom. But there’s nothing to figure out, really. We all know the truth now.

  In the morning, my phone buzzes. It’s Naomi, and when I see her name flash on the screen, I bite my lip to keep from smiling. After I told her everything that happened, we’ve been texting nonstop.

  What’s on tap for hooky today?

  Idk yet. Run forever?

  I wish you could run all the way to me. It’d be so much easier to get through this together.

  Another text pops up. Okay, that was weird and forward. Don’t hate me! Disappearing forever.

  I lean back against my pillow as heat spreads through my body. I didn’t know this kind of hope was possible.

  I’d like that. Not today, though. Soon.

  Naomi sends back a smirking face and I shove my phone in my pocket. I throw back the covers and pad downstairs, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. I wish Mila were here to analyze every word in these texts with me, but maybe that’s the thing about Naomi. There aren’t any misleading moments to obsess over. Everything’s just there, out in the open. Honest.

  “Jeez, Stell, you scared me.” Mom says, clasping a hand over her heart. She’s never up this early and she looks like she maybe hasn’t slept at all.

  “Sorry,” I say, and mean it. We’ve put them through hell this year, and last year, and forever, honestly, and it all hits me at once how much they’ve tried to do for us, how normal they’ve tried to make everything.

  And look what they’re stuck with. Us.

  But Mom isn’t mad. She wraps me up in a bear hug and squeezes hard. “I love you, Stella,” she says into my hair. “I love your sister too. More than you know.”

  She releases me then and I see tears in her eyes, though her gaze drifts above me, where Ellie comes into the room. Her eyes are sunken into her head and her hair is frizzy around her shoulders. Before she can say anything, Mom envelops her too and cries softly into Ellie’s nec
k.

  “I’m so sorry,” she says. “That you felt like you couldn’t come to me. That you both were so alone in all of this. I’m not perfect, but I’m your mother. I’ll always be there for you. I’ll always love you.”

  Ellie swallows hard and blinks back tears.

  Mom holds us tighter and that’s when I lose it and let the tears come. Ellie does too and the three of us stand there together, shoulders shaking, sobs heaving, until my throat becomes raw and scratchy.

  Dad walks into the room just then and lets out a big breath. His lip trembles like he’s going to cry too. “My girls,” he says, wrapping his arms around Mom from behind her. “We’re all such disasters.”

  “But we’re our disasters,” I say, and that’s all it takes to get everyone laughing. Soon I have to hold my stomach to keep myself standing up. Finally Mom wipes her face with a dish towel and we compose ourselves, if only for a moment.

  “Good to know we’ll get through this,” Dad says. “We are Stecklers, after all.”

  44

  ELLIE

  Mom keeps telling me to spend the day resting, to lie down and take it easy. To do nothing. To feel nothing. To relax. But I can’t. Everything feels uncertain, like I’m standing on ground that’s too soft to stay solid. The air in my room is too heavy, and the lamp is still broken in the corner, all its shards swept into a pile I’m too scared to clean up. The scene is reminder of what I’ve done, how I let someone else have so much control, so much power. It’s a reminder that I’ll never let anything like that happen again. Looking at the damage from the other day, I need to get out of here.

  I pull a sweatshirt over my head. I reach for my sneakers and tie the laces with shaking fingers. I need to run. To feel the air rush between my fingers. To pant and sweat. To move. To breathe. To be me.

  I take the stairs two at a time and when I push the front door open, I hear Stella’s voice from the living room.