by Diana Urban
Next, I removed anything that looked remotely valuable. I replaced the delicate crystal in the china cabinet with regular glassware, locked the cabinets, removed the keys, and carefully carried out the crystal vases on the end tables, hiding everything under the bar. While I didn’t think Maria’s parents would trace this back to me, I also didn’t want my prank to cost them a fortune. I’d considered different venues—the school, the town theater, places like that—but I couldn’t think of anywhere else with an isolated room with no reception. I still had some babysitting money saved up from the past few summers I could anonymously mail to Maria’s parents if shit hit the fan. Hopefully it’d be enough to cover any damage.
Last, I set the place cards with each of our names on each table setting. I assigned myself the seat closest to the door, where I dropped the noose. Scott would sit on the other side of the table, opposite Sasha. If I knew anything about her, she’d give him hell for being there. When everyone focused on them, I could kick the door shut.
And the rest of it would play itself out.
Hopefully.
What worried me most wasn’t the door, or the timer, or any of the technical elements of this prank. It was me. I was orchestrating a play of my own, where I was the only performer. And I was usually a crap liar. Did I have what it took to pretend this was real? Otherwise I’d be stuck in a room getting hate from five people for an hour. Would I be able to hide my feelings for Diego? Otherwise Robbie might flip out on him and ruin this whole prank. Would I be able to steer the conversation the right way, so this would all end how I hoped? Otherwise, who knew what would happen?
I stuffed the empty plastic bags from the grocery store into my duffel and slung it over my shoulder. I didn’t know for sure if this would work. But with a prop syringe and fake bomb filled with ginger ale, nobody would actually get hurt.
Ah. That reminded me. I still had to clear the room of anything . . . sharp. Dangerous. I dropped the duffel and opened the drawers of the china cabinets, scooping up any knives I came across and transferring them to one of the silverware drawers in the main dining room. Then I dragged the decorative brass fireplace tool set out into the main dining room as well.
Like I said, I didn’t want anyone to get hurt. This was a psychological exercise, not a death sentence. A lot could happen in an hour when you think you’re facing death.
I wanted Robbie to know his dreams weren’t automatically worth more than a girl’s. Faced with tonight’s impossible choice, he’d finally understand that you can’t place a value on someone’s life or ambitions. And the ticking bomb would show him that time is not guaranteed.
I wanted Diego to stop letting people sabotage him—and to stand up against someone trying to take the easy, immoral way to the top. Tonight I’d help him call out Sasha for her cheating ways. Tonight we’d take a stand together.
I wanted Scott to see that certain secrets were too dangerous to keep. By putting him in a high-pressure situation with Sasha, I’d show him how unstable she was. He’d finally understand the consequences of selling her drugs, and how wrong he’d been to play coy with her secret.
I wanted Priya to see I still loved her like a sister. She might’ve ignored my calls and texts, but tonight she’d be a captive audience. I’d stand up for her against Sasha at every turn, so she’d see how much I truly cared about her. Part of me hated the thought of putting Priya through this, but she deserved getting revenge on Sasha more than anyone. And if everything went to plan, hopefully Sasha would apologize to her. . . .
Because most of all, I wanted Sasha to see what a selfish bully she was, and to expose her malice, her lies, her manipulations. After my conversation with Maria, I realized why Sasha’s sister Nat’s name sounded familiar. It must have been short for Natasha Jane—the girl who tortured Maggie online. Sasha recognized Maggie’s name that night in her room. I saw the shock in her eyes. I knew she knew the truth. But then she went and tortured Priya despite knowing the deadly consequences of bullying.
I couldn’t save Maggie’s life. I couldn’t save her from the bully who hounded her. But I could save Priya from any more of Sasha’s vitriol. And tonight I’d teach Sasha the thing she should have tried the hardest to perfect: empathy.
Tonight I’d kill several birds with one stone. By steering the discussion as we navigated this impossible choice, I’d teach everyone their lesson.
At the beginning of the hour, I’d encourage everyone to work together to find a way out. It would be a test of sorts to see who would choose compassion over fear, who’d choose life over death, who’d be selfless—and they’d all see each other’s score. I’d suggest everything we could do to survive this together—while showing them nothing would work.
Ultimately, we’d have to choose.
So eventually, people would start panicking. It was inevitable. I was willing to bet Sasha would panic first. And whenever that happened, I’d be her foil, steadfast in my determination to keep everyone alive. I’d orchestrate the conversation to force out each person’s inner demons, so they’d all come to understand their deepest flaws, and hopefully, overcome them.
And in the end, I’d try to unite everyone against Sasha. If everyone tried to guess who locked us in, I’d show how Sasha had wronged each suspect. But the people she’d wronged the worst would be in the room. I’d reveal how she’d bullied Priya, sabotaged Diego, bought drugs off Scott, manipulated me. I’d expose each of her secrets, one by one. Maybe when people finally said “no” to Sasha Harris—even Robbie, someone she assumed would always take her side—she’d finally see the error of her ways. Tonight, we’d all get our revenge. And once she braced for the needle to pierce her skin and poison to flood her veins, once she knew her actions had consequences, she’d turn things around.
Sure, this might have been a little over the top. There were probably a zillion other ways I could have taught everyone their lessons.
I guess you could say I had a flair for the dramatic.
But teaching Sasha a lesson would take more than words. People like Sasha and Natasha weaponized words to ruin people’s lives, but swatted them away like gnats. She was deaf to all but her selfish goal of perfection; no amount of lecturing, screaming, guilt-tripping, or rational discussion would elicit change.
Some people can’t see the light until you shutter them in darkness. Sasha needed to see for herself that her own selfishness would be her downfall.
Tonight she wouldn’t be able to bully herself out of the room. Tonight she’d see herself for who she was. Tonight would take care of everything in one fell swoop.
And it’d only take an hour.
35 Minutes Later
I leaned on the back of one of the police cruisers, wrapped in a light blue fleece blanket from one of the ambulances. A paramedic had cleaned my wound, which wasn’t as bad as it first seemed, and wrapped my shoulder and upper arm in gauze. My jacket was still inside; we couldn’t touch anything in the crime scene. It finally stopped pouring, but it was still drizzling, and my damp hair clung to my face and neck. I shivered as two paramedics lifted Scott’s stretcher into the back of one of the ambulances.
The other ambulance would be for Priya, but the police wanted to question her first, and had told the rest of us to get fresh air outside. Would she be arrested? Last I saw, she sat at one of the red booths in the main dining room, talking to one of the police officers.
Oh, Priya. I never meant to turn her into a murderer. A fresh wave of nausea rocked my stomach, and I almost keeled over and vomited at the thought. What had I done? What the hell had I done?
Before I could lose it, I sucked in the cool air. Breathe in. Breathe out.
Several police cars lined the street behind the ambulances, their flashing lights pulsing blue and red on the brick buildings. The sidewalk in front of the restaurant was blocked off, and two burly cops stood by the door to supervise, making sure none of us left the scene yet. They all seemed confused as hell. As far as they could tell, we were all v
ictims of something . . . but what? A plot to murder one of us? A practical joke gone wrong? Although we had trespassed and damaged the restaurant, we were invited with no idea the invitations were fake, and once we were locked in we had no choice but to try to find a way out.
Another ambulance was on its way for Sasha, but the crime scene photographer had to finish his job first. I vaguely wondered where they’d bring her. It’s not like you need to go to the hospital if you’re already dead. Would they bring her straight to the morgue? Was the morgue in the hospital? I wasn’t sure where they took Maggie after I’d called 911, because my parents made me wait at Priya’s while they went . . . well, wherever they went with Maggie’s body. Now I wondered where Sasha would go. I somehow managed to stay on my feet without collapsing into a heap of regret, and felt like I was encased in a giant vat of cold jelly—completely, utterly numb, and barely able to support my own weight. Breathe in. Breathe out. All I could do now was keep breathing.
Robbie sat against the building under the awning next to Diego and his family, texting someone—probably his mom or dad. Whenever his eyes darted my way, I pretended I’d been watching the cops, or the paramedics. I never meant to break up with him at the party; maybe part of me wanted to give him another chance once he understood his dreams weren’t worth more than mine. But like I’d feared, he found out about my feelings for Diego.
Diego’s parents were the first to arrive. His dad had practically trampled the cops, demanding answers, while his mom clung to Diego. Neither of them seemed to understand their son was never in any real danger.
At least . . . he wasn’t supposed to be.
I’d been so careful. So careful. I cleared the room of anything dangerous. I’d played out the scenario over and over in my mind beforehand, practicing how to steer the conversation. And for a while, things went according to plan. I revealed secrets I wanted to reveal, made points I wanted to make. But then the conversation got away from me, and the hour unfolded differently than I’d imagined. I’d forgotten what people can be capable of when they’re desperate. I couldn’t have predicted something would go wrong with the boiler, driving us mad with heat. I couldn’t have predicted Scott would fall and break his ankle. I couldn’t have predicted a glass shard from a broken window would be used as a lethal weapon.
I couldn’t have predicted any of it.
But I was responsible for all of it.
My throat constricted, making it hard to breathe as Diego detached himself from his mother and headed over to me. “Hey.” He leaned back on the cruiser next to me as his parents interrogated the cops. “How’re you holding up?”
“I don’t know,” I managed to choke out. “I keep thinking I’m going to wake up, and this’ll all have been a really bad dream. I can’t believe Sasha’s . . .” I couldn’t finish the sentence. I never imagined anyone would die tonight. That was never supposed to happen.
Diego put his arm around me, careful to avoid my wound, and pulled me close, resting his temple against mine. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your sister. I never knew she was bullied like that.”
I sniffed. “After the news spread, Nat—well, Sasha—combed through her social media comments and deleted all of them. I should have spoken out about what I saw, but my family was in shambles.” In retrospect, I should have done more to call out Maggie’s bully. But I was so scared to be bullied myself. And maybe if mental health wasn’t so stigmatized, Maggie would have come to us for help. Maybe none of this would have happened.
“Right, of course. And I’m sorry you lost your friend tonight.”
“She wasn’t my friend. Not in the end, anyway.” I shook my head. “God, I really had no idea it was her all along who tortured Maggie. But still, even knowing . . . I didn’t want her to die.”
“You tried so hard to get everyone out of there alive. You were the one voice of reason in that whole mess. And you know . . . you were really brave . . . braver than any of us.”
A tear finally slipped down my cheek, and I shifted to look at Diego. He gazed at me with those copper eyes, filled with so much admiration and . . . could it be love?
It made me want to dissolve into a puddle of shame. The only reason I seemed brave was because I knew the whole thing was fake. I didn’t think anyone was going to die, at least not until the heat became overwhelming and I realized we could be in real danger. That’s when I’d started to panic—especially after Scott fell. But by then, we were in too deep, and there was no way out until the hour was up and the cupcake delivery person set us free, anyway. I had to see it through. Otherwise it’d all have been for nothing.
But that’s exactly what I should have done. I should have pumped the brakes. I should have stopped everything when things started going awry. This was all my fault. All my fault.
“I’m sorry any of this happened,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
Diego touched my cheek. “None of this is your fault. You did everything you could.” He leaned closer, and the truth threatened to burst out, that I was the one behind this, that this was entirely my fault. But before I could speak, his lips were on mine, both of his hands cupping my face, and it was like every nerve ending in my body lit up.
It made tearing myself away from him that much harder. My heart imploded with grief as I pulled back, placing my hands on his chest so he couldn’t tug me close again. I didn’t deserve him. And I could never be with him now.
Sasha was dead because of me.
She would never get to redeem herself. She was gone forever.
I doubled over, letting out fierce sobs. “I’m sorry . . .” I managed to croak out. “I’m so sorry.”
Diego scooted closer and silently rubbed my back until my face was drenched with tears, and I had to sniff back snot. At one point he disappeared into the empty ambulance to grab me a bunch of tissues. I must have looked like a blotchy mess, but that was the least of my worries.
“Oh, God.” I hiccupped after I blew my nose. “Sasha is dead. Dead. No matter how selfish she was, no matter how mean she was to Maggie, she didn’t deserve to die like that. And what’s going to happen to Priya? Will she be arrested?”
“It was self-defense.” Diego drew circles around my shoulder blades. “Well, maybe not self-defense, exactly, but she did it to save you. I don’t think she’ll be in trouble. The real murderer is whoever put us in there.”
I screwed up my face and stared at a break in the clouds where the stars peeked through, shaking my head slightly. The sky and I ran out of tears at the same time. My body trembled against Diego’s as two paramedics appeared in the doorway, wheeling Priya on a stretcher between them, her cheeks streaked with dried tears. When Priya spotted me and Diego, she let out a sob and wordlessly held out her arms for me. She wasn’t handcuffed. Thank God. I sprinted over and enveloped her in a hug, ignoring the paramedics’ protestations. She clung to me as we cried into each other’s hair, and I squeezed my eyes shut, wishing I’d thought of any other way to get her back. But I didn’t. This was our reality now. Somehow, we’d have to come to terms with it.
Finally, Priya released me and wiped her nose as Diego joined us. “Are you okay?” I threw a worried glance at one of the paramedics. “Is she okay?”
“She’s fine,” she huffed, tightening her messy bun. “It’s just a precaution. We should get some fluids in her and run some tests. And you’re Amber, right? You’re coming with us.” She pointed at my shoulder. “That needs stitches.”
“Wait,” I said, “I need to talk to the police.” I knew what I had to do.
“You can speak with them at the hospital.”
“No, now.” It couldn’t wait. I couldn’t risk chickening out. I didn’t trust myself anymore. “Can I just talk to Priya for a minute? Please?” The paramedic’s nostrils flared, but she nodded and stood a few feet away with her colleague.
“What happened?” I asked Priya, glancing at the police officers talking near the door. “What did you tell them?”
“Everything.” She hiccupped. “But the police want to question me more at the hospital. They agreed to wait until my mother gets there. But Amber . . . I killed her. I killed Sasha. My life is over.”
No, it wasn’t. I’d wanted to seek justice for Priya—to help her get revenge on a bully. But Priya didn’t need my help. She was a badass who could stand up for herself. She’d dropped toxic Sasha from her life, and dropped me when I became a shitty friend. And she’d saved my life tonight. I wouldn’t let Priya get in trouble for what she did. I’d never be able to take away the trauma of tonight, or the blood that would forever stain her hands. I’d never be able to take away the memory of stabbing another person, or the nightmares that were sure to plague her for years.
But I could turn myself in and tell the police the truth. That I set all of this up. That none of this was Priya’s fault. That she only killed Sasha in self-defense, and that I was the one who should go down for murder. If I got arrested, I’d probably never go to USC. I’d never score movies. I’d never see my dreams come true.
I’d prioritized those dreams above all else over the past year—over Priya, and our friendship, and her pain. And now I’d caused her even more agony, and I couldn’t risk letting her get in trouble on my account. I had to do what was right for my best friend. This much, I could do for her.
I gripped her shoulder. “You saved my life. You did it to defend me. They’re going to see that. None of this is your fault.” I took a deep breath and forced the next words out. “It’s my fault.”
“No it’s not—”
“Yes it is. It is literally my fault.” I lowered my voice so only Priya and Diego could hear, and my stomach clenched as I spoke. “I did this. I locked us all in there.”
Priya’s eyes widened. “What? But . . . how? Why?”
“No.” Diego shook his head, taking a step back. “You can’t be serious.”
