“Yeah, too bad,” Monica echoes. They keep standing there, so clearly waiting for me to leave that I want to stay just to annoy them. Except Knox is hovering awkwardly beside me, making everything a hundred times worse. God, what if they think this is a date? And why do I even care?
Ugh. The hell with them.
“Well, bye,” I say to no one in particular, and stalk off to my car. When I get inside, though, I don’t turn it on right away. Instead, I rest my head on the steering wheel and let myself cry for a good fifteen minutes about losing a friend I’ve had since elementary school. It’s just one more thing in a long line of casualties from the Truth or Dare game, but still. It sucks.
Then I drive home in a haze, making turns on autopilot until the loud blare of sirens makes me jump. My heart starts to pound, because I know I haven’t been paying attention, and I probably violated ten different traffic rules. But as I slow down, the flashing lights appear in front of me instead of in my rearview mirror. I pull to the side of the road as two police cars, followed by a fire engine, roar past me in the direction of the Bayview Mall.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Maeve
Thursday, March 5
“I don’t see what the problem is,” Addy says, popping a candy-covered almond into her mouth.
We’re both on the couch in Ashton’s apartment, and Phoebe is sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the coffee table. The three of us are putting candy into little netted bags, tying them with blue ribbon, and lining them up in rows on the table. They’re favors for Ashton and Eli’s wedding, which all of a sudden is less than a month away.
I pick up a ribbon and position it around a filled bag. “Everything,” I say.
Addy takes her time chewing and swallowing. “Everything,” she repeats. “Because you made out with a hot guy who cooked you dinner?” She shakes her head and reaches for another almond. She’s eaten almost as many as she’s bundled. “You have some serious first-world problems, girl.”
She doesn’t know the half of what my problems are, but that’s not her fault. I’m the one who’s been keeping secrets. “I practically mauled him,” I correct. “And then I ran out on him.” Every time I think about last night, I cringe. Luis probably does, too. I avoided Café Contigo today but still secretly hoped he’d get in touch. He didn’t.
“Just talk to him,” Addy says.
Phoebe heaves a dramatic sigh. “Thank you. I keep trying to tell her that.”
I don’t answer, and Addy taps me lightly on the arm. “It’s not a weakness to let someone know you like them, you know,” she says.
I do know. I’ve been telling myself that for weeks, trying to change. But I still can’t bring myself to do it. “Then why does it feel like it?” I ask, almost to myself.
Addy laughs. “Because rejection sucks. I’m not saying Luis is going to reject you,” she adds hastily when my head snaps up.
“He super is not,” Phoebe murmurs, her brow knitted in concentration as she ties a careful bow.
“I mean in general,” Addy continues. “We’re all afraid of putting ourselves out there and not getting anything in return. The thing is, though, nobody looks back on their life thinking, ‘Damn, I wish I’d been less honest with the people I care about.’ ”
Before I can answer I hear the sound of a key turning in a lock, followed by the squeal of hinges and the click of heels. Ashton pokes her head around the small vestibule that leads into the apartment’s open-concept living-dining area, loaded down with bags and a stack of mail. “Hi,” she calls. She crosses the room and drops the envelopes onto the edge of the coffee table, beaming when she catches sight of the wedding favors. “Oh, thank you so much for doing this! They look amazing. I got pad Thai from Sweet Basil. Did you guys eat, or do you want some?”
“We ate,” Addy says. She ties another bow, sets the netted candies down, and starts thumbing through the mail.
“All right,” Ashton says, returning to the kitchen area. She sets her bags on the counter, then comes back and perches on the arm of the sofa. “Addy, are you around Saturday night? Eli’s cousin Daniel is coming into town and I was thinking we could all go out to dinner.” Addy looks up at her blankly, and Ashton adds, “Remember? I told you about him. He’s going to be a groomsman in the wedding, and he’s transferring to UCSD next fall. He’s studying molecular biology.” Ashton nudges Addy’s foot with hers and smiles. “He saw that picture of you and me at Mom’s last week on Eli’s Instagram, and now he really wants to meet you.”
Addy wrinkles her nose. “Molecular biology? I don’t know. I might be busy.”
“I think you’d like him. He’s very nice. And funny.” Ashton swipes her phone a few times before holding it out to Addy. “This is Daniel.”
Phoebe rises and peers at Ashton’s phone. I lean closer to Addy so I can see, too, and can’t help the admiring ooh that comes out when I catch sight of Daniel’s picture. That is one seriously cute molecular biologist. “He looks like the lost Hemsworth brother,” I say.
Phoebe tilts her head for a better view. “Is that a filter, or are his eyes actually that blue?”
“No filter,” Ashton says.
“All right, then.” Addy nods so quickly, I’m afraid her neck might snap. “Saturday it is.”
Ashton takes her phone back and gets to her feet, looking pleased. “Great, I’ll have Eli make reservations someplace fun. I’m going to change clothes and inhale my dinner, then I’ll help you finish the wedding favors.” She disappears into her bedroom, and Phoebe settles herself back on the ground, reaching for another netted bag. Addy rips into a large, thick envelope with a pleased aha noise.
“What’s that?” I ask.
Addy tucks a strand of pink hair behind her ear. “It’s from this school called Colegio San Silvestre in Peru,” she says.
I feel a sudden stab of panic. No, you can’t leave me too. “Are you going there?”
She laughs. “No. Well, not as a student. It’s an elementary school. But there’s this summer program where the kids learn English, and they hire counselors from other countries. I was thinking of applying. You don’t have to speak Spanish because you’re supposed to have all your conversations in English so the kids can practice. I’ve been looking into teaching programs around here for next year, and I thought it would be good experience. Plus, I’d get to travel. I’ve never even left the country before.” She flips slowly through the glossy pages of a brochure. “Ashton says I can keep living with her and Eli however long I want, but at some point I have to figure out what’s next. And I am not moving back in with my mom.”
Addy’s mother is the definition of a party mom. The last time I saw her, right before Addy moved in with Ashton, she offered me a glass of wine while her twenty-something Tinder date checked out my ass. She hasn’t been all that involved in wedding planning, except to text Addy pictures of every potential mother-of-the-bride dress she tries on.
“Sounds great,” I say, peering at the brochure over Addy’s shoulder. “Can I see?”
Addy hands it to me with a smile. “You should look into it, too. You don’t have to be a high school graduate to apply. We’d have fun.”
She’s right, we would. I can’t think of anything I’d like better than a summer with Addy in South America, actually. But I can barely plan for next week, with all the crap going on with my life. Who knows what kind of shape I’ll be in by the time applications are due? Still, the brochure draws me in with beautiful pictures of the school and the kids, and I’m flipping through with increasing interest when Ashton comes running out of her room.
She’s barefoot, and her blouse is untucked as though she’d paused halfway through getting changed. “I just got a text from Eli,” she says breathlessly, her eyes roving over the coffee table. “Where’s the remote?”
“I think I’m sitting on it.” Addy twis
ts and reaches to pull it out from behind a cushion. She blinks, surprised, when Ashton snatches it from her hand. “Jeez, Ash, what’s the rush?”
Ashton perches beside her on the arm of the sofa and aims the remote at the television. “There’s been an accident,” she says. The screen springs to life, and Ashton clicks away from the E! Network. “I think they’re covering it on Channel Seven—yeah. Here it is.”
A stone-faced news anchor sits behind a shiny, semicircular desk, the words Breaking News scrolling in all caps behind him. “Reporter Liz Rosen joins us now at the scene,” he says, aiming an intense stare directly into the camera. “Liz, what can you tell us?”
“Ugh. Her.” Addy frowns as a dark-haired woman in a blue blazer fills the screen. Liz Rosen practically stalked Addy, Bronwyn, Cooper, and Nate last year while they were being investigated for Simon’s death. Then Addy’s brow furrows as she leans forward, craning her neck for a better look. “Is she at the mall?”
“Thank you, Tom,” Liz says. “We’re continuing to bring you the latest from Bayview, where tragedy has occurred at an abandoned construction site. The story is still developing, but what we know so far is that a group of local teens were in a blocked-off area when one boy fell through the roof of a partially constructed building. Another boy was also injured, although it’s not yet clear how. And we just got word, from one of the officers here, that the young man who fell through the roof has been confirmed dead.”
My hand flies to my mouth as I take in the familiar scene over Liz’s shoulder. “Oh my God,” Addy says. A half-dozen sugared almonds slip through her fingers and onto the floor.
Phoebe gasps and scrambles to her feet. “Knox,” she breathes. “He cut through there.”
“I know,” I say, my eyes glued to the television. “He’s always saying how mad his dad would be if he knew. And no wonder. It really was dangerous.”
“No,” Phoebe says urgently. “I mean he cut through there today. On his way to work, right before I came here.”
Oh my God. Knox.
My entire heart seizes as a yellow banner reading TEEN DIES IN CONSTRUCTION SITE ACCIDENT appears at the bottom of the screen. Helpless, flailing panic rushes through me, and I fumble under piles of netting on the coffee table for my phone. “It can’t be him,” I say. My voice shakes, and I force more conviction into it. If it sounds true, maybe it will be true. “He’s fine. I’m going to call him right now.”
Liz continues to talk. “There are still a lot of unknowns. Police say they have yet to notify the next of kin, so they have not released the name of the deceased. It’s also not clear what type of injuries the second teen has sustained. However, we understand that they are not life-threatening, and that the young man has been transported to Bayview Memorial Hospital for treatment.”
My call to Knox goes straight to voice mail, and just like that, I start sobbing uncontrollably. “He—he’s not answering,” I manage to choke out as Addy puts an arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“Let me call Eli,” Ashton says. “Hang on. I left my phone in my room.”
My head is buried in Addy’s shoulder as the desk anchor’s deep voice turns mournful. “Of course, the town of Bayview is no stranger to tragedy, Liz.”
“Turn it off,” Addy says tightly.
“I can’t…I can’t find…” Phoebe sounds like she’s in tears, too. “I think Ashton took the remote with her.”
“That’s absolutely true, Tom,” Liz Rosen says. “The town is still recovering from the shocking death of Bayview High student Simon Kelleher eighteen months ago, which made national headlines. It remains to be seen how this story develops, but we’ll continue to monitor and provide updates as they happen.”
I clutch Addy’s arm like a life preserver, my stomach twisted with fear and sick regret. If anything happened to Knox, and I never got the chance to make up with him…
“He’s okay. Knox is okay!” Ashton’s voice fills me with such intense relief that I can finally look up. “But he’s the one in the hospital. Eli doesn’t know what happened yet. I’ll take you there right now.”
Addy keeps her arm around me as we stand. I feel as unsteady as a newborn fawn; none of my limbs are working properly as I lurch toward the door. “Does Eli know who died?” I manage to get out.
Ashton nods, her pretty face somber. “Yeah. It was a boy named Brandon Weber. Did you know him?”
There’s a loud thud from near the door. Phoebe, who’d been gathering all our backpacks and bags from where we’d left them, goes rigid with shock and they fall from her hands.
* * *
—
Two hours later, we finally get to see Knox.
Only family was allowed to visit at first, and his parents and sisters had to go in shifts. Information has been coming in spurts, and we’re not sure how much is true. But a few things are starting to repeat consistently, both on the news and in the texts flying across our phones.
One: Brandon died trying to take a shortcut through the construction site.
Two: Sean, Jules, and Monica were all with him at the time.
Three: Knox has a concussion but is otherwise fine.
Four: Sean Murdock saved Knox’s life by knocking him to the ground when he tried to rush after Brandon.
“Sean Murdock.” Phoebe keeps repeating the name like she’s never heard it before. She’s sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, her arms wrapped tightly around her legs. Her eyes are glazed, her cheeks pale. She looks almost catatonic, and I don’t think the news about Brandon has sunk in yet. It hasn’t for me, either. “You’re telling me Sean Murdock saved Knox’s life.” She says it like you’d say, You’re telling me dogs can now talk and drive cars.
Addy wrinkles her brow. “Sounds familiar, but I don’t remember him.”
“He’s—” I almost finish with a total asshole but stop myself in the nick of time. Whatever else happened, Sean lost his best friend today. And might have saved Knox’s life, although I’m having as hard a time as Phoebe is wrapping my brain around that one. “He was Brandon’s friend. He and Knox are…not close.”
Knox’s sister Kiersten emerges from the hospital corridor, followed by two of his other sisters. Kiersten’s eyes search the waiting area until they land on me. “Maeve, we’re going to meet up with my parents in the cafeteria for a while. Knox is getting tired, but he’s still okay to see people. Do you and your friends want to say hello?” She smiles so kindly that I’m positive she has no clue about the texting game, or what’s been going on between me and Knox over the past couple of days. “He’s right around the corner in room 307.”
I jump to my feet, pulling Phoebe and Addy with me. “Yes, please. How is he?”
“He’ll be fine,” Kiersten says reassuringly. “They’re keeping him overnight for observation, but everything looks good.” Then her resolutely cheerful expression slips a little. “Well, almost everything. Prepare yourself. Poor kid’s face is a little rough.” She squeezes my arm as we pass by her.
Hospitals make me anxious, and I need to take a second to steel myself at the door to Knox’s room. This section of Bayview Memorial doesn’t look anything like the cancer ward, which is a lot more modern and high-tech, but the antiseptic smell and harsh fluorescent lighting are the same. I absorb the details of the room—the outdated pastel paint job, the framed print of a sad-looking vase full of sunflowers, the ceiling-mounted television in one corner, the thin curtain separating an empty bed from Knox’s—before my eyes settle on him. Then I gasp.
“I know,” Knox says through puffy lips. “I’ve looked better.”
He’s in regular clothes with only a small bandage on one side of his head, but his face is almost unrecognizable. One eye is blackened and half-closed, his nose is red and swollen, and the entire right side of his face is a giant bruise. I drop into the chair beside his bed
and try to grab hold of his hand, but he tucks it beneath the threadbare blanket before I can.
I can’t tell if it’s coincidental timing or purposeful avoidance, and I remind myself it doesn’t matter. At least he’s okay. “What happened?” I ask, at the same time Phoebe says, “Sean did this?” She drags a chair from the corner of the room and drops into it beside me.
“Not so many questions at once,” Addy says. “When I had a concussion, that kind of thing gave me an instant headache.” She’s still standing, her eyes on the television screen in the corner. “Hang on. They’re about to interview Sean Murdock.” She leans over me to pick up the remote on Knox’s bedside table and points it toward the television to turn up the volume.
“Fantastic,” Knox says flatly as we all look up.
Liz Rosen from Channel Seven is holding a microphone out to Sean, who’s standing with his hands clasped like he’s about to pray. They’re in front of someone’s house, the twilight sky a deep blue behind them. The words LIVE UPDATE: LOCAL TEEN RECALLS FATAL ACCIDENT flash along the bottom of the screen as Liz says, “Thank you for taking the time to speak with us, Sean, after such a traumatic day. Can you tell us in your own words what happened?”
Sean towers over Liz. He hunches his shoulders like he’s trying to make himself look smaller and says, “It’s all kind of a blur, but I’ll try. A bunch of us were at the mall, and then we wanted to go downtown. We were trying to save a little time, and—God, that sounds so stupid now, doesn’t it? Like, we should’ve just walked the regular way. But we’d cut through the site before. Lots of kids do it; we didn’t think anything of it. Anyway, Bran was joking around like always, and then he jumped, and then…” Sean ducks his head and puts a hand to his temple, obscuring his face. “Then all of a sudden he wasn’t there.” Phoebe makes a strangled little noise beside me, and I reach for her hand. Unlike Knox, she lets me take it.
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