Game of Fear

by Kabongo, Glede Browne

  “That new phone is a burner phone to talk to whoever is helping her, and the flowers and gifts are a cover,” I say.

  The girls concur.

  “Interesting how Trevor just happened to overhear that newsflash in French class,” Frances says.

  “Obviously, it was for his benefit,” Callie says. “They knew it would get back to us.”

  “Sidney is smarter than we thought,” I say. “This isn’t going to be easy.”

  “She’s not the mastermind,” Frances says. “She’s devious, but she doesn’t have the cunning and imagination it takes to pull off stalking you like this. Text messages that disappear after you read them, untraceable phone calls, notes that magically appear in your locker? The Avenger is a phantom. Sidney likes attention too much to be the brains behind the operation.”

  “We can’t take our eyes off her.”

  “The hack should tell us more,” Callie says.

  “Let’s keep our expectations low. My computer skills aren’t that advanced.”

  “You’re a STEM fellow,” Callie reminds me.

  “On the science side. I took computer classes, but I’m no expert. I just want to see if I can crack her email.”

  “Be careful,” Frances warns.

  “Of course. I’ll use a VPN code so my IP address won’t be easily tracked.”

  Lunch is almost over, and the girls tease me about the upcoming dinner with Christian.

  “What are you wearing?” Callie asks. “I hope it’s something short and sexy.”

  I roll my eyes. “My wardrobe is going to be rated G. This dinner was my Dad’s idea, remember?”

  “Text as soon as it’s over,” Frances, the twenty-four hour newshound, says. “I don’t care how late it is.”

  “Tomorrow is Friday, and I’m going to cut class,” Callie says. “Around 7:00 a.m., I’ll come down with a raging case of the flu, so I’ll be up late waiting for the report from you also.”

  CHAPTER 16

  After school lets out, I drive home like a maniac. I rush up the stairs, anxious to get to my bedroom. I slam the door shut, pull the phone from my bag, and give a voice command to the phone. He answers on the second ring.

  “It’s not good, Ty.”

  “What happened?”

  I repeat the brief conversation I had with The Avenger. Then I get to the list. “There are three columns worth of names on the list, close to fifty names, including people in your graduating class, like Pete and Aaron. Kyle Davidson is on there too. And my name, obviously.”

  “Read me all the names.”

  I drop the phone on the bed and tear through my backpack for the list. I kept it hidden in one of the inner pockets. Once I pull out the paper, I pick up the phone again, placing it in between my ears and shoulder blades, while I unfold the sheet.

  What the heck? I stare at the blank sheet, trying to make sense of what just happened. I remember many of the names on the list. I remember my name at the top in big letters with the circle around it. I did not imagine the list. I didn’t displace it. There is only one inner pocket in my bag, and I was careful that the list was the only document in that space. My bag has been with me all day long. Ty is asking if I’m still here, his voice breaking through my panic.

  “The names are gone,” I inform him.

  “What are you talking about? How could they disappear?”

  “I don’t know, Ty, but they did. I just pulled the list from my bag. I have the sheet on which the names were written, but it’s blank. Don’t you think that’s odd? I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t see it with my own eyes.”

  “It’s not impossible. I believe you.”

  “How come?”

  “She wrote the names in invisible ink. After a while, anything written in that ink disappears.”

  “Invisible ink? I thought that was a myth.”

  “It exists. Researchers came out with a new version a few years ago using nanoparticles. Once the paper is exposed to light, the written text disappears in hours.”

  I plop down on the ivory sofa and tuck my legs under me. “I hate not knowing what’s coming at me next.”

  “Don’t worry, Cooper. I’ll track down Kyle Davidson and see if he knows anything that can help. I’ll find Pete and Aaron too. I’ll handle it, okay?”

  I stand in my large walk-in closet and scratch my head, trying to decide what to wear. I want everything to be perfect for tonight, not that I’m trying to impress Christian or anything. My outfit must strike the right balance. Classy, but not uptight boring. Flirty, but not slutty. Elegant, but accessible. I go through the closet, and I’m not satisfied. I grab a bunch of clothes and toss them on the bed for better inspection.

  After an hour of aggravation and dismissing anything that looks promising, I decide to keep it simple and chic. I settle on a pair of black skinny jeans and Brian Atwood ankle boots. I choose a ruched V-neck top Callie insisted I had to purchase in this weird color called Marsala. She swore to me it’s one of the hottest trends this fall—a red-brownish color she says is sophisticated yet earthy, like me.

  My hair is going to take a while, so it’s best to keep that simple, too. I’m rejecting the curling iron, flat iron, and the million other hair products and accessories lying around. It’s going to be a ponytail. The front half up and the rest of my hair will cascade down my back. I’ll complete the ensemble with a scarf and a pair of sterling silver, disc earrings with bezel-set diamond details.

  I hear Christian’s voice drifting from the kitchen. Weird. I thought my parents would have parked him in the family room or living room. I stand in the doorway, observing for a moment. Their backs are to me, his and Mom’s—both of them huddled at the corner of the island. He’s pointing to a dish and asking questions. He looks stylish in a cashmere pullover sweater, with a navy blue and white gingham dress shirt underneath. Don’t get me started on the jeans. With a perfect view of his backside, all I can do is inwardly sigh.

  They both turn around at the same time. The sigh wasn’t so silent after all. His eyes go wide and then crinkle at the corners. He walks over to the kitchen counter and picks up a gigantic bouquet of peach roses, my favorite. If I weren’t busy checking him out, I would have noticed the flowers right away. He walks toward me and hands me the bouquet. I thank him.

  “We didn’t hear you,” Mom says. “Christian and I were getting acquainted. Turns out he knows a lot about food.”

  “Christian knows a lot about many things,” I tease.

  Mom shakes her head and begins to slice oranges. Christian kisses me on the cheek.

  “Wow,” he says and steps back to get a good look at me.

  “Right back at you,” I say. “Don’t let it go to your head. We don’t want it to get any bigger than it already is.”

  “You see how mean she is to me, Mrs. Cooper?” he says, looking in Mom’s direction.

  “I can’t help you, Christian. That’s what you signed up for.”

  “Where are Dad and Miles?” I ask.

  “Setting the dining room table. I better check on them.”

  “Mom, we need a vase for the flowers.”

  She takes the flowers from me, and with impeccable efficiency, she finds the perfect vase and fills it with water.

  “This will make a great centerpiece for the dinner table,” she says and then scuttles off to make sure the table is set to her specifications.

  “How did it go?” I ask, turning to Christian. “The introductions, I mean.”

  “Your parents are cool. Your mom is a sweet lady. I like her.”

  “And my dad?”

  “Mr. Cooper is intense.”

  I give him a sad face. “I promise you’ll leave here alive. Beyond that, I can’t say what will happen. Just don’t at look him directly. His laser eyes will slice you in half.”

  “Okay,” he says, his voice shaky.

  I look away from him to have a laugh at his expense. He peeks down at my face. I pretend I wasn’t making fun of him.
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  “You’re not a very nice girlfriend. You’re supposed to be reassuring me that your dad will like me. Instead, I’m breaking out in hives, and you think it’s funny.”

  Silence. He said the G word. It catches us both off-guard. Uncertainty flares in his eyes. He looks downward, a lock of hair falling over his eyes. I palm his face with both hands, and he looks up at me.

  I have to be sure I heard him correctly, so I ask, “What did you just say?”

  “You know what I said. Is that a problem?”

  “No. Aren’t we moving too fast, though?”

  “Is that how you feel?”

  “Yes. No. I’ve never had a boyfriend before. How much time are we supposed to spend getting to know each other before we enter girlfriend/boyfriend territory?”

  He gives a look as if I’m kidding him.

  “Sorry. I overanalyze everything.”

  “I notice that about you. Abbie, we’ve known each other for two years. We’ve been fighting our attraction to each other for at least a year.”

  “So, that’s what you call the insults and put downs. Attraction?”

  “Well, yeah. You’re a great sparring partner. I hope it never stops.”

  “I thought you liked your girls easy.”

  Damn! I did it again. Not knowing when to shut up and just go with the flow.

  “I’ll give you a tour of the house now.” I flee the kitchen, not even looking back to see if Christian is following me. I bump into Mom in the hallway, bringing my grand escape to a halt.

  “What’s the hurry?” she asks.

  “No hurry. I was about to give Christian the tour before dinner.”

  As if to corroborate my story, he appears right next to me.

  “Dinner will be served in thirty minutes,” Mom informs us.

  After Mom leaves, I go on the defensive. “I didn’t mean to insult you back there. I don’t know what came over me. Words have a way of escaping my mouth, whether or not I want them to. I’m starting to worry about my bedside manner when I become a doctor.”

  “I never once thought it was going to be easy with you, Abbie. I knew you were amazing the first time I saw you. I had just transferred to Saint Matthews. We were at general assembly one morning, and you had this look on your face like you were ready to take on the world, yet there was an unhappy air about you. Anastasia Cruz was still here. The way she, Callie, and Frances rallied around you made me want to learn more about the girl who could inspire such fierce loyalty from her friends.”

  “I was dying inside during that time,” I confess. “My world was imploding. If I didn’t have my friends, things may have turned out differently for me.”

  “Whenever I saw you in the hallway, there was no way I could tell. The news reports and kids whispering about your mother’s case were the only signs that anything was wrong in your world. I started asking about you, and everyone said the same thing. ‘Abbie Cooper, she’s a little weird, but she’s a good person. And, don’t mess with her because she’ll rip you a new one.’”

  “And you still wanted a chance with me, even after that warning?”

  “You barely knew I existed back then. Someone else was on your mind.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You had it bad for Ty Rambally. All the kids at school were saying that you hated my cousin Kerri because she was dating Ty, and Kerri hated you because you and Ty were close.”

  “Is that what Kerri told you?”

  He nods. That seems like a century ago.

  “I was just a kid back then. My mother taught me that Ty didn’t have to be my everything, and that, sometimes, the thing you want most isn’t necessarily what’s right for you.”

  “I really like your mom.”

  “She’s great,” I say.

  “Glad I decided to bide my time.”

  “What?”

  “Ty wasn’t going to be around much longer. Once he and Kerri graduated, it was time to put my plan into action.”

  “What plan?” We both lean up against the wall.

  “I would come by your locker and say things I knew would offend you, on purpose.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “If I had asked you for a date during that time, you would have laughed in my face.”

  “You got me. I would have.”

  “I figured antagonizing you was the only way to get you to talk to me. I looked forward to it every day. The weekends couldn’t go by fast enough.”

  “Wow, your life must have been really boring.”

  “You left me no choice. Plus, it wasn’t just about talking to you.”

  “No? What else?”

  “I couldn’t wait to see what outfit you would wear every day. If I missed you at your locker for some reason or didn’t see you around, I would have Gabe and Trevor tell me what you wore that day.”

  I don’t know what brought on the need for confession. It has my attention. I’m flattered and horrified at the same time. “You had spies?”

  “Sympathizers, babe, not spies.”

  “Trevor is so dead,” I say, my voice breezy. “He didn’t say a word to me.”

  “He’s the man. He knows how to keep a secret.”

  “As long as he’s not keeping anything from Frances.”

  “He wouldn’t do that.”

  “He’ll answer to me if he hurts her.”

  “I’ll be sure to pass on the message, but you don’t have to worry about him.”

  “We better get going on that tour.”

  He asks a bunch of questions about family photos and artwork that interests him. He even wants to know about my favorite room in the house. It’s the sunroom. I like to curl up with a good book on lazy sunny days. It’s heated, so even in the winter, I can hang out there.

  We enter the dining room, and everyone is already seated, waiting for us. Mom placed the bouquet Christian brought as the centerpiece like she promised. Tall candles burn at either end of the table.

  Mom and Dad sit at opposite ends, Christian across from me, and Miles next to me. Mahalia is waiting for him to overfeed her. After Mom says grace, our mealtime ritual, everyone digs in. Salad, pumpkin soup, salmon for the main course, and coconut cake for dessert. My mouth is already watering.

  “How do you like Saint Matthews, Christian?” my dad asks. “I hear you transferred from another school.”

  Christian licks his lips, his posture rigid. “It’s working out well for me, Mr. Cooper. There’s a lot of pressure to excel. Everyone is scrambling to make good grades and get into good colleges. Well, maybe except Abbie. That stuff comes to her naturally.”

  I tug at my scarf. Next thing I know, I’m biting my fingernails at the dinner table. Mom gives me an irritated glare, and my hand drops to my side. I won’t get into dogcatcher school let alone college if I don’t stop The Avenger from blackmailing me. I still have no clue why she’s doing it or what she wants. I just know it’s going to be bad. I shiver.

  “Are you cold?” Dad asks, his keen eyes trained on me.

  “No. I’m not cold.”

  Everyone’s attention is now focused on me.

  “Are you sure?” he presses. “What’s bothering you, sweetheart?”

  “Dad, nothing is wrong. Let’s not spend dinner talking about me. Did you know that Christian paints?”

  I shouldn’t have put Christian on the spot like that, but Dad was about to start interrogating me.

  “Tell us about your work,” Mom says to Christian.

  “I paint whatever inspires me. It changes all the time, so I never know what I’m going to work on from one painting to the next.”

  “What’s your favorite piece so far?” Mom asks.

  He says nothing, pondering the question. Then he looks straight at me. “I haven’t painted it yet.”

  My hand is halfway to my mouth when I feel Mom’s eyes on me. I quickly grab my spoon and scoop up the last of my soup.

  “I think you should showcase a few of your pieces as
part of the art exhibit at school,” I say to him.

  “My work is not for exhibition. Just for me. I never show it to anyone.”

  “Why not?” Miles, asks. “Do they suck?”

  “Miles, stop it,” Mom hisses. “Apologize.”

  “Really?” I say to him in my sternest voice.

  “What?” Miles asks, offended. “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just want to know why he’s putting all this effort into painting if nobody is going to see. It’s weird.”

  “It’s okay, Miles,” Christian says. “You asked an excellent question. For me, it’s a way to express myself without worrying about judgment. I can paint whatever I want and not think about whether or not it’s good. It’s about how I feel at the moment when I’m creating it.”

  “I get it,” Miles says. “It’s like recording time.”

  “Exactly,” Christian says.

  The good feelings don’t last. Dad’s next question ends that party. “Why were you expelled from two boarding schools, Christian?”

  Everyone freezes. I want to crawl across the table and tell Christian he doesn’t have to answer the question, and it will be okay. He slumps in his chair as if already defeated.

  I close my eyes and will him not to back down. Dad will think he’s a wimp, and I don’t want that.

  I open my eyes when he begins to speak.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes I regret, Mr. Cooper. I did dumb stuff because I wasn’t thinking in a mature way. I mostly did it to aggravate my parents. Tired cliché, I know. If you’re worried about Abbie, I would never do anything to cause her pain or make her look bad.”

  Right. Because that’s my job—bringing shame to my family and friends by illegally obtaining a central nervous system stimulant.

  “You’re young. You’re supposed to do dumb stuff. The key is to learn from those mistakes and prevent others from falling into the same trap.”

  Whew. That was close. Dad is being reasonable.

  That didn’t last long either. “Why were you railing against your parents? I understand teenagers like to push boundaries and spread their wings, but getting kicked out of two schools is being irresponsible on purpose.”

  Crud. He’s on the warpath.