His eyes widen.
The woods are quiet now, the four-wheeler far enough away that we don’t hear the engine, and the kids are back at the house.
“We can’t stay out here all night,” I finally say.
“It’s safer than anywhere else.”
That’s not true. “Can we get to your bike?”
“Yeah.”
“Then I know where to go,” I tell him. “The safest place I know to spend the night. And you have the added benefit of another witness.”
“Where’s that?”
“My home. And you’re staying there all night.”
CHAPTER XXVI
I’m grateful we’re on a motorcycle, because I don’t want to talk on the way home. I want to replay everything, every word, every image that is burned into my brain.
But I fail; all I can do is remember one face, one sentence, one life-changing piece of information.
Of course, he talked quite a bit more than you. Right up to the very end.
Over and over the words play in my head until we’re pulling into my driveway. I’m relieved that the house is dark and there’s no sign of Mom’s car, but she’d texted me that she was still with Dad. That’s good because she probably wouldn’t be thrilled that I brought Levi home—on a motorcycle, no less.
“So tell me everything this guy said to you,” Levi says as he pulls out a kitchen chair.
“He talked about … my brother.”
“What?”
I didn’t reply right away, knowing that if I share anything with Levi, I have to share everything.
I take a shaky breath. “Jarvis … or whoever that man was …”
“Yeah?”
“He knew my brother.”
He waits for me to continue, but I’m still battling how much I want to reveal. I’ve never told anyone my role in Conner’s death, but I’ve carried the weight of it for two years, and it’s getting heavier by the day. But what if that accident wasn’t my fault? What if it wasn’t even an accident?
I reach for Levi’s hand and tug him toward the stairs, something inexplicable drawing me to that room where we never go. “You didn’t live in Vienna two years ago,” I say softly. “So you didn’t know my brother.” I add a smile. “He called me Mack.”
Levi angles his head in a silent apology for using the nickname. “I’ve heard about him,” he says, coming with me. “I’ve heard he was a force to be reckoned with.”
That makes me smile. “He was that and more.” We climb the stairs. “Did you hear how he died?”
“An accident at a store where he worked?”
I’m not surprised he knows that much; it had been huge news at the time and was still talked about. I come to a stop at the top of the stairs, feeling unnatural next to Conner’s door. Normally, I breeze right by it and go into my room.
“I’ve always thought it was an accident.” I look up at him and hold his gaze.
I feel his hand on my shoulder, comforting and strong. On a low, slow exhale, I turn the handle and push the door, the paint sticking a little in the jamb.
For a moment, I don’t breathe, but then I do, inhaling the musty, stale smell of a room that hasn’t been used in two years. It’s very dark, but my eyes adjust quickly, taking in the Pittsburgh Steelers comforter on the double bed, the books piled up on the desk—some textbooks I’m using now for AP Calc and Latin.
There’s a bookshelf—or five—of trophies. From his days playing Pop Warner as a five-year-old to the year Vienna won the division when Conner was a sophomore, he collected hardware. I’m drawn to the shelf, the physical memories of games I watched from the stands. Why didn’t I pay attention? Why was I so bored?
“Busy guy.” Levi’s voice surprises me; I’d forgotten him for a moment because in here, there was only Conner. Tall, loud, funny, talkative, beloved by everyone, even me—even when I wanted to hate him because I’d never be him.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “He was something.”
“Must have been quite a shadow to live under.”
“Yes and no. It could be overwhelming, but he was also really encouraging. Every single day when we’d get to school, whether we were on the bus in elementary school or in the car in high school, he’d say goodbye to me the same way. ‘Go get ’em, Mack.’ And that made me believe I could. Like I could do anything.”
He smiles. “That’s a good brother.”
I sink onto the bed, emotions bouncing around my chest and off these walls. “It makes me feel even more guilty.”
Levi turns from the bookshelf to give me a questioning look. “Why would you feel guilty?”
It’s time, a little voice whispers in my head. “I’ve always thought I was responsible for—for his accident.”
“Why?”
I pick at a black thread on the bed and run my fingers over the diamond design on the Steeler logo. “Because he wouldn’t have gone down into that basement if I hadn’t dropped my necklace on the conveyor belt.” The words feel harsh and foreign. Words I’ve thought a thousand, maybe a million times in the past two years. Words I’d never dared to speak out loud.
Levi doesn’t move, waiting for more, giving me space.
I inhale and exhale, the sound loud in the silent room. “He had to work and I didn’t want to be home alone,” I say, taking the story back a bit. “I whined and complained and he dragged me to the store, where I was supposed to be doing homework, but I was bored. In the back room, I found this conveyor belt they used to take stock from the basement up to the main floor.” My voice cracks and Levi takes a step closer, but I hold up my hand.
I need to get this out. I need to tell him. “I was playing with my necklace and dangling it over the conveyor belt and I dropped it.” I close my eyes. “Maybe on purpose because I wanted to go down to the basement to see what was down there.”
I take a second, swiping my hand through my hair, closing my eyes to see the gold M with tiny diamond chips—fourteen of them—swinging back and forth over the belt. M for Mackenzie.
“I loved that necklace,” I whisper, touching my neck as though I might somehow find it still hanging there. But the necklace was long gone … like my brother. “Mom gave it to me for my fourteenth birthday.”
“Kenzie …”
I don’t open my eyes to see the sympathy in his. I don’t want sympathy. I don’t deserve it. “I dropped the necklace on purpose, certain it would just get carried down to the basement and we could go down together and get it. But he wouldn’t let me come. He made me stay in the back room and …” I drop my head into my hands, the pain of the admission too much for a second.
“Kenzie …”
“He went down there and I guess he had to dig behind the conveyor belt to get it. He must have bent over the belt to reach for my necklace and his shirt got caught and …” My voice fades into a sob as grief and guilt gang up on my heart and squeeze. “If I hadn’t done that, he’d be alive.”
“Kenzie.” I feel Levi’s weight on the bed next to me. “You’re forgetting something,” he says softly.
“That’s just the problem. I can’t forget anything. I can’t forget that necklace or that decision or that moment or that long, long wait until I had to find someone and then …” The screaming. The sirens. The look on Mom’s face when she got there. The look that has never—
“You’re forgetting what that guy said to you. And the accidents that have happened. Maybe you’re not responsible.”
I grab that hope, wanting to cling to it, but it’s dashed with what I’ve learned. “Only girls on the list have those accidents.”
“Are you sure?”
Not of anything. He touches the light switch and bathes the room in brightness, making me blink. “What are you doing?” I ask.
“Let’s look around.”
“Why?”
“Has this room ever been cleaned out?” he asks.
I shake my head. “My mom refuses to touch a thing. My dad has threatened to come in here
with boxes and trash bags, but that always ends up in a screaming match. It’s why they separated.”
With the light on, the room is less ominous and sad. There’s a strange life to all these awards and trophies and books, a lingering energy that emanated from Conner. No wonder Mom didn’t want to take it all down and turn it into a guest room or something. Conner was still alive in here.
I stand up and walk to the shelves again, then to his desk. Behind me, I’m aware that Levi has opened the closet door. I’m not ready to touch Conner’s clothes quite yet. But I pull out the desk chair and run my finger along the thick powder of dust surrounding his big calendar blotter.
It’s opened to the month of October, the year he died. I stare at the eighteenth, but the day is blank. Most of the other dates have notes in them—Conner was insanely organized, with homework due dates, his work and football practice schedules jotted in. The name Alexa M on the Saturday after he died.
He hadn’t had a date with Alexa Monroe that night; he had a funeral instead.
Swallowing that morbid thought, I run my finger along the side of the blotter, drinking in the notes on Conner’s calendar. Behind me, I hear hangers moving over the rack, unsure what Levi thinks he’ll find in the closet.
I read Conner’s writing.
History exam
Pick, up paycheck
Debate team mtg. 8:00 a.m.
AP Language essay due
Practice 4:30–7:00
Game at St. Edward’s
NRNV course
“Kenzie.”
I barely hear him say my name because my eyes have just moved back to October seventeenth, frowning at the entry on that page: NRNV course. What class was that?
“Look at this.”
I want to turn to him, but I’m staring at those letters. What was NRNV? A school group? A team he was on? Why do those letters feel like they should mean something?
Levi’s hand lands on my shoulder. “This was in his letter-jacket pocket.”
I finally look at what he’s set on the desk in front of me. It’s a paper folded in thirds with a thick, broken wax seal. I frown at it, the wax seal such a foreign thing to see.
“Look closely,” he orders.
I do, lifting the paper so I can see the half seal in the light and read the letters that remain: et Nihil Vestigi.
“It’s only half a motto,” he whispers. “But we know the part that’s missing.”
Nihil Relinquere et Nihil Vestigi.
My heart drops as a puzzle piece snaps into place. NRNV. “Oh my God, Levi.” I look up at him. “Conner did the ropes course the night before he died.”
I flip open the paper and let out a soft grunt. It looks like a freaking Latin exam.
My phone dings in my pocket but we both ignore it, our attention on the paper.
“What does it say?” Levi asks.
“It’ll take some time to translate.”
The phone dings with another text, immediately followed by another.
“You better see who that is,” he says.
I reach into my jacket pocket to get the phone, but my hands brush a folded piece of paper—the one Jarvis Collier gave me. I pull it and my phone out at the same time, absently unlocking the phone with one hand while I flip open the folded paper with the other.
And see the same Latin words. The same phrases that Levi found in Conner’s pocket, the same numbers, the same everything. In fact, the sheet I have is an exact replica of Conner’s.
“Oh my God, Levi, do you see that?” I look up at him but he’s not reading either paper. The color has drained from his face and his dark eyes are burning in horror.
I follow his gaze to the phone, my blood turning ice cold as I read the words that show up over and over in the last three texts.
Amanda … Kylie … car … bridge … dead.
CHAPTER XXVII
Levi slept in the basement and slipped out before Mom got up this morning. I left early enough not to have to tell her any of the bits and pieces I learned overnight.
A few blocks from my house, Levi picks me up on his bike and rides me to school, but Vienna High is like a ghost town. At least half the student population is out, taking any excuse—like the deaths of two more girls on the infamous Hottie List—to cut class. He pulls into the junior lot but doesn’t get off the bike after he parks.
“Aren’t you going to school?” I ask.
“I have something else to do.” The tone in his voice snags my attention as I climb off and remove my helmet.
“What?”
He takes off his helmet, too, his mussed hair making my hand ache to smooth it. “Just some stuff.”
The vague response hurts and when I look away to hide the impact, he touches my chin, turning my face back to his. “I have to go find out what’s going on.”
“How? What are you going to do?”
It’s his turn to look away. “I’m just going to talk to a few people. Maybe look around the woods.”
“Without me?”
He chokes out a wry, mirthless laugh. “Yes, without you. Don’t you realize how unsafe you are right now? You should have stayed home.”
“Home is the number one place for accidents to happen,” I say, quoting my mother. “I’m better off in school.”
But the truth is, I’m not better off anywhere. I’m next. And we both know it.
“This has to end, Kenzie,” he says softly.
“Are you going to talk to the police?”
He shakes his head. “I can’t, and I don’t think it will help anyway. Maybe tomorrow, but I have to—there’s someone I have to talk to.”
“Who?” I demand, but he stays maddeningly quiet. “Josh? Rex? Jarvis?”
“Just give me a few hours, okay? And watch your back. And your front. And whoever is next to you.”
I step closer to him. “I want that to be you.”
He brushes some hair off my face, his fingers warm. “It is and it will be.” Then he kisses me long enough for me to hold on to that promise as I head into school.
The few kids who are in the halls openly stare at me, some with sympathy, some with curiosity, all with sadness. I ignore them and go to the locker bay, which is quiet and empty when I get there. While I’m facing the still-closed door, I hear soft footsteps behind me.
As much as I want to spin around and see who it is, I don’t want any more looks that say You’re next, Fifth.
“Kenzie?”
At the sound of Molly’s voice, I pivot, meeting her sad gaze. She looks so wrecked I almost collapse on the spot. “Molly,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
She hesitates and searches my face, her eyes swollen and red. I know she’s been crying. Wordlessly, she walks over and folds me in a hug.
“I’m sorry.” We say the words at exactly the same time, in the same voice. Any other time, we’d laugh. But today, we just hug tighter. I don’t know if she’s sorry we had such a horrible fight or that Amanda and Kylie have died or what, but I don’t care. I just hold on to her.
“You okay?” she finally asks, pulling away.
I shudder as I shrug a nonanswer.
“What happened?” she asks.
“I don’t know any more than you probably do,” I say.
“They committed suicide? Why?”
I don’t believe that for a minute, but the rumor mill says the police found a double-suicide note taped to the end of Seneca Bridge, which is a good twenty miles from Vienna. Amanda’s car had been deliberately driven over the bridge, and both she and Kylie had drowned. The doors were locked and they were still in their seat belts, though none of this had been officially released. It all came from a friend of a friend of a friend who knew somebody in the Vienna Police Department.
“I saw them a couple of hours before,” I tell her. “They were fine.”
“Another private party?” she asks, unable to keep the bitter note out of her voice.
“Molly—”
“I’m s
orry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry about that.”
“You’re sorry?” I grab her arms again. “Molly, that was so awful, and there’s so much you don’t understand.”
“Clearly.”
I squeeze a little, a thousand ways to say this playing in my mind. “I think there’s a—”
“Curse? I’ve heard about it.”
“I’m not buying the curse theory,” I say. “But the believers insist that your number’s up if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”
“Then don’t,” she says, inching away. “Kenzie, if anything happened to you, I’d—”
“Hey!”
We both startle at the sound, fired by Candace, who’s standing ten feet away with her hands on her hips, her butchered black hair still as shocking as the first time I saw it. Behind her is Dena, who looks like she hasn’t slept at all.
“You better zip your lips, Summerall,” Candace says. “Unless you want to be next.”
Instinctively I get even closer to Molly, refusing to shut her out the way I did before. “I trust Molly,” I say quietly. “She’s my best friend.”
Candace takes a few steps closer, ignoring Molly and focusing on me. “You want to know the last thing Amanda Wilson did before she and Kylie took off last night?”
I just stare at her. I’m not sure I want to know, but I have to.
“She texted her freaking cousin and asked if she and Kylie could go stay with her for a few days. And she told her cousin why.”
“And you think that’s why her car went off Seneca Bridge?” I ask. “ ’Cause I’d bet my life it’s not.”
“You’re betting your life talking to her,” Dena says, coming up to join us. She throws a dismissive look at Molly. “Better leave, Kenzie’s best friend.”
“No.” I grab Molly’s hand and cling to it. “She stays with me. We’re a package deal.”
Candace crosses her arms. “Just like Amanda and Kylie.”
Molly gasps, but I dismiss the comment with a wave. “What do you want?”
“I want to talk to you,” Candace says. “Alone.” She gets my elbow and pulls me a few feet away from Molly. “Listen, we have to meet tonight. At the trailer.”
They All Fall Down Page 21
