You’re Next

by Kylie Schachte

  She’s not wrong.

  Cass has a thoughtful expression on her face. “You talked to Ava about this?”

  Paige shrugs. “Yeah. She felt bad about Molly. She said she’d talk to the police with me. But then it’s two black girls preying on the innocent white children. No. Molly will get better, or she won’t. That’s up to her doctors. Coming forward now won’t fix anything.”

  And just like that, I know what happened.

  Molly got hurt. Ava felt guilty. When Paige wouldn’t come forward, Ava decided to bring the Basement down from the inside. It would explain why there’s such a long gap between Molly’s fight and Ava’s death. She would have needed time to gather evidence of Dorsey’s involvement.

  Only he found out, and he killed Ava to keep her quiet.

  It definitely sounds more like the Ava I knew. The kind of person willing to risk everything to admit she made a mistake.

  Or maybe that’s what I want to believe. Here I am, trying to assign her some kind of virtuous mission. Is her death any easier to bear if she’s a martyr?

  No. Ava’s murder is wrong, no matter what choices she made. I’m going to keep digging until I find the truth, whatever that is.

  Besides, I need irrefutable proof before I go to the police. Paige is right—if the media finds out that Ava was running some ultraviolent fight club, they’ll turn on her like rabid dogs. According to them, victims only deserve justice if they’re blameless virgins who have never so much as jaywalked. I saw what happened with Lucy, and she was a rich white girl from a “good family.” For Ava, it’ll be so much worse.

  I turn my attention back to Paige. “You sent us threatening messages. The text, the writing on my locker—that was all you?”

  She has the grace to look ashamed. “It’s better for everyone if all this stuff stays quiet.”

  Cass pushes back. “Not Austin. You could have really hurt him.”

  “Austin nearly got me killed because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.” Paige gestures angrily at her broken face. “All I did was remind him that he has just as much to lose as the rest of us.”

  The bell rings.

  Cass turns to me. “I can’t be late to French. You good?” I nod.

  After she’s gone, I turn back to Paige. “One more thing. What about the photos?”

  “Photos?” Her expression is blank.

  “The surveillance pictures. You left them at my house. And the newspaper clippings in my room.”

  She shrugs. “Sorry, I don’t know anything about that. I doubt I’m the only person who wants things kept quiet, though.”

  I leave Paige and walk to chem.

  Someone falls into step beside me. “Red.”

  I do a double take. “Okay, you can’t keep showing up here. I have an actual education to deal with.” I try to keep my tone light, but my eyes fall to his lips.

  Valentine’s face is very serious. “Something came up. Remember Boyd, the guy who gave me the documents?”

  And now kissing is the last thing on my mind. “You probably don’t want to remind me about that.”

  He ignores that and pushes on, insistent. “Boyd approached me last night, said he caught another break for me. A woman upstate, in a psych hospital. He claims she might have been a witness to Annabelle’s death, and Boyd has her patient file.”

  I slow my pace.

  Valentine keeps talking. “I ask what I owe him for it, and he says I should consider it thanks for my loyalty, and maybe I wanna skip town a few days to check it out. He’ll get someone to fill in for my matches.”

  My breath comes sharper, faster. Things are getting scarier and scarier, and now Valentine’s going to disappear. That’s where he’s going with this, right? He said it himself the other day: his priorities have been clear from the beginning. If he gets the chance to pursue a lead on his sister, he’ll take it, even if it means leaving me behind. It’s hard to blame him for that.

  I wait for him to say more. We’re almost to my classroom.

  I can’t take it any longer. “So are you going?”

  “No.”

  The bottom falls out of my stomach. “No?”

  He stops walking. “Gonna see this through to the end.”

  I stop, too. I want him to stay. I still have no idea how I feel about him, or I do know but don’t want to know.

  I want him to stay. I’m sure of that, at least.

  Then again, what if it were me? Chasing down a clue about Olive, or Cass? I would have left without saying good-bye.

  Maybe. I mean, that’s what the normal me would do, right? What everyone would expect?

  I wish he would stop looking at me like that. His eyes touch every part of my face.

  Maybe I wouldn’t be able to leave, either.

  He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m staying. I’m making the right choice this time. If this woman is real, she’ll still be there in a few weeks. Not here looking for credit or forgiveness, Flora. Thought it seemed suspicious is all, getting that offer right now. That’s what I’m here to tell you: a storm’s coming. You’re in danger.”

  I frown. “Why now?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, so maybe Dorsey knows you helped me fight off those guys the other night, and he wants you out of the way, but why now?” I ask again. “It’s been days since that happened, and he hasn’t tried anything to hurt either of us since. Why now?”

  Valentine doesn’t follow. “Maybe he was biding his time. Getting his murderous ducks in a row.”

  “Yeah, maybe. Or maybe we did something that got his attention. Spooked him.” The second I say the words, I know. I pull out my phone.

  It rings forever.

  A woman answers, “Park Memorial Hospital, how may I help you?”

  I steady my voice. “Yes, can I please be connected to room 317?”

  The nurse connects me. Max Sawyer picks up after a couple rings.

  “Max? This is Molly’s friend. I came to visit yesterday?”

  Valentine steps closer to hear Max on the other end.

  Max says, “Oh, hi. She’s still not awake. Don’t worry, I won’t forget to call.”

  “I know, Max, it’s okay. Listen, has anyone come by to visit your sister? Asked you any questions?”

  “Uh-huh. A man came last night, but he didn’t talk to me.”

  A tendril of dread winds itself into a knot around my intestines. “What did he look like?”

  “Um, he was wearing a suit. He was old, I guess. He talked to the doctors a long time.”

  “What did he say to them?” I ask.

  “He asked how Molls was doing, and the doctors told him she’s getting a lot better. I don’t think they knew I was listening.”

  Valentine and I make eye contact. It’s Dorsey, or one of his lackeys. It has to be. He’s the only person involved who’s powerful enough to bully doctors into giving up private information.

  Now he knows Molly could wake up at any minute, and if he’s got the hospital staff in his pocket he probably knows that we talked to Max, too.

  Dorsey has already killed at least once to keep this stuff a secret. I don’t think he’d mind doing it again. Valentine’s right: a storm’s coming. Dorsey can’t afford a liability like Molly, and with her already in the hospital it would be so easy to eliminate the threat.

  “Thanks, Max,” I say. “Can you stay there and keep an eye on your sister for me? Call me if anyone else comes by?” Regret hits me the second the words are out. It’s such a stupid thing to ask. What’s Max going to do to keep her safe? He’s a kid, and now he might put himself in danger trying to protect her. Valentine shakes his head.

  “I will, I swear,” Max says, and the vise of guilt tightens in my chest.

  “If the man or anyone else comes back, call me right away,” I repeat. Too late to take it back now.

  Max picks up on the panic in my voice. “Is everything going to be okay?”

  “Yes, I promise,” I lie.


  “Hi, yes. I’m calling about a patient, Molly Sawyer?” I’m in Cass’s car, on the phone with the hospital yet again. “You need to post security around her room. Why? Because someone wants to hurt her! No, this isn’t a threat. Please—” The nurse on the other end hangs up. It’s about the seventh time that’s happened. I’ve called the hospital and the police multiple times, but no one will take me seriously. Gramps isn’t answering his phone. I bang my fist against the car door.

  “No luck?” Cass asks.

  “No! And they’ve reported my calls to the cops by now. Fuck!” I slam my head back against the seat.

  “Calm down. We’ll figure it out.”

  I’m scaring Cass, but I can’t help it. “There’s no time to calm down! She’s in danger, and she’s helpless, and I told her ten-year-old brother to protect her, so now he’s in danger, too!”

  “Call Richmond? Maybe she can help,” Cass suggests.

  “I already did. She told me to leave Molly alone and hung up on me.” Probably too afraid of pissing off her beloved sergeant again.

  Cass bites her lip. She’s out of solutions.

  No one will listen to me, and every second that passes puts Max’s and Molly’s lives in more danger.

  I can’t breathe. It’s all happening again. Like Matt Caine. Dorsey killed Ava, and now he might kill Molly, and I can’t stop it. People are going to get hurt or die, and it’s all my fault.

  Cass reaches over and puts her hand on top of mine. “Hey. We got this. You and me, right? If the police won’t protect Molly, we will.”

  “We can’t.” I choke on my own breath.

  “We can.” Cass’s voice is firm. “Let’s stop at your house, see if we can catch your grandfather, and then go to the hospital. If the police won’t keep watch for Molly, we will.”

  I wish I felt as strong as Cass right now. “And what are we going to do if someone really does show up to hurt her?”

  Cass’s expression is hard. “Then we’ll have proof, and Richmond will have to listen. We’re not going down without a fight.”

  But Gramps isn’t there when we get home. I search the house twice, panic rising with every step, but nothing.

  “Gramps? Gramps!” I throw open every door on the second floor, even though I’ve already looked in all these rooms.

  I check the hall bathroom for the third time and catch sight of myself in the mirror. My lank hair is falling out of my bun, and sweat shines on my forehead. I look possessed.

  “I tried calling him again,” Cass says from behind me. “He’s still not picking up.”

  I can barely hear her. The car is in the driveway, but he’s not here. There are a thousand possible explanations, but only one gets stuck in my brain.

  Someone got to him. Why else would he not be here when I need him?

  “It’s okay,” Cass says. “Let’s just go to the hospital, and he can meet us there later.”

  What if he can’t? What if he’s tied to a chair somewhere? What if he’s dead?

  “Hey.” Cass grips me by the shoulders. “Look at me, Flora. You’re just panicking, but we’re so close. We’re going to go protect Molly, and Gramps will be fine. He’ll come find us.”

  I try to focus on her, but my eyes dart everywhere, like I’m an animal being led into the slaughterhouse. I cannot make my lungs fill with air.

  Cass pulls me tight to her chest. Squeezing me so I’ll feel safe.

  “You are the bravest person I know,” she says. “It’s okay to freak out a little bit, but Molly needs us. If anyone can set aside their feelings for a few hours to help someone, it’s Flora Calhoun. Right?”

  Impossibly, I laugh. It sounds like a drowning person’s gasp for air, but it’s something.

  Only Cass could save me like that.

  I breathe in the familiar citrusy scent of her shampoo, and I’m back to myself.

  “Let’s do this,” I tell her.

  She beams. “That’s my girl.”

  “I need to wash my face,” I say. “Give me a sec to pull myself together?”

  She looks at me and grimaces. “Probably a good idea.”

  I pause in the bathroom doorway. “Thank you,” I tell her abruptly.

  “For what?”

  I don’t know how to put it into words. “Being braver than me.”

  Cass gives me the warmest, kindest smile, and I know I said the right thing, even though it’s way too small to fit all the love I have for her.

  I don’t linger in the bathroom. Don’t let myself pause too long on the hunted look that still hasn’t quite left my eyes. I splash some water on my face, dry my hands, and leave. It’s time to end this.

  Cass isn’t waiting for me in the hall.

  I poke my head into my room. “Hey, are you re—”

  I stop short. My palms go cold.

  Cass is standing next to my dresser. One of the drawers is open. She’s holding a manila envelope in her hands. The surveillance photos. Hers is on top. I shoved them in my dresser yesterday and forgot to hide them properly.

  “I needed a sweater,” she says faintly, not lifting her eyes from the photo of her, taken by a murderer.

  “It’s not what you think—” I start, even though that’s the dumbest thing I could say.

  She stops me. “It’s exactly what I think. You got these and you didn’t tell me?”

  I don’t say anything.

  “Tell me I’m wrong,” she says.

  I still don’t say anything.

  “When?” she asks.

  “Cass—”

  “When?”

  It whispers out of me. “It started last Tuesday.”

  She sucks in a breath through her nose. She blinks. “You’ve had these for almost a week.”

  “I was going to tell you, I swear—”

  “When? When it was all over with?” She drops the photos on the ground.

  “No! I was going to tell you, but you had your date, and rehearsal. You were so happy—”

  “Bullshit!” Cass has a good four inches on me, but the way she looks down on me right now, it might as well be four feet. “What about five minutes ago? That tender little heart-to-heart we had? Seems like a perfect time to come clean. Or last Friday, in the bathroom? You’ve had plenty of chances—you just didn’t want to.”

  “I panicked! I wanted to tell you about it, but then things were good between us, and I didn’t want to ruin it. I thought I could end the whole thing before you even had to worry about it.”

  Silence.

  “You do ruin everything,” Cass says in a deathly quiet voice. “Flora, it sucks to be your friend.”

  I flinch.

  She steps closer. “Do you remember when I had the flu last year?”

  I nod, not sure where she’s going with this.

  “I had a hundred-and-two-degree fever, but I lied to my mom and told her I was fine. If I missed any more classes I would lose credit, you know? Because of you. I have no friends, all because of you.” She gathers steam, her voice rising. “When I heard about rock ensemble, I almost didn’t even audition because I was so afraid to spend one night a week not being there for you!”

  “I know,” I choke out. “I know it’s my fault.”

  “You don’t get it!” she yells. “I don’t mind doing any of that stuff. I thought we were partners. Equals.” Angry tears streak down her face. “But this whole time I’ve been bending over backward to prove to you that I care just as much as you do, and you still don’t trust me.”

  I’m crying, too. “I do. I trust you more than anyone.”

  Through her tears, Cass gives me a burning look. “If you really trusted me, you wouldn’t treat me like a sidekick.”

  She turns to leave.

  No. She can’t. I step toward her. “Cass, wait—”

  “Drive yourself to the hospital. I’m done.” She brushes past me and out the door.

  Cass’s footsteps echo through the house. The front door opens. I hear voices. A moment
later, the sound of her car driving away shatters my heart.

  She’s gone. Cass is gone. Lots of people have left me before, but I have never truly been alone. Until now.

  What was it Elle said last week? It was only a matter of time before you actually made it to zero friends.

  She was right.

  Olive appears in my doorway. “Flora?” She’s still wearing her backpack from school.

  My voice sounds far away. “I ruined it. It’s all my fault.”

  Olive gives me a sympathetic look but says, “Yeah, pretty much.”

  That jars me out of my daze a bit. “Are you trying to comfort me?”

  She shrugs, unapologetic. “You don’t need comforting. You screwed up. Fix it.”

  “I don’t think I can,” I tell her. My hands shake. I don’t know what to do with them. “She won’t come back.”

  “She will,” Olive insists.

  I’m not so sure. First Gramps, now Cass. I’m so good at doing the one thing I am most afraid of: pushing the people I love away for good.

  The thought makes my whole body shake with grief. I should chase after her. Apologize. Make her see how sorry I am, that I can change.

  But Max and Molly are still waiting for me. Their lives are in danger, and it’s my fault. I don’t know where Gramps is. He could be anywhere, hurt or captured or dead.

  Those thoughts send my pulse rocketing. “I have to go to the hospital. Molly Sawyer, I have to get to her, but Cass—”

  “Stop,” Olive says, her voice loud and firm. “I’ll go with you.”

  An icy trickle of fear in my gut. “No. It’s too dangerous.”

  Olive’s eyes dart to the photos still puddled on the ground. “I’ve always been in danger. You really want to argue with me over lines in the sand right now?”

  I open my mouth to say something, maybe apologize.

  “Don’t bother,” she says, but her voice is gentle. “Let’s go.”

  As we drive to the hospital, Olive says, “What do you think she’ll say if she wakes up?”

  “Molly?” I dart my eyes to her, then back to the road.