This Lie Will Kill You

by Chelsea Pitcher

Brett nodded in agreement. After all, Gavin never would’ve pulled off what he had at that party last year if people had been watching him. “Okay, it makes sense that he’d be the person to die, then, if he had the power to see everything without being seen. But why come to the party at all?”

  “Maybe the foundation paid him?” Juniper suggested. “It would’ve been much less than fifty thousand—that’s what you all got offered, right?”

  “A fifty-thousand-dollar scholarship,” Ruby said instantly.

  But Parker pushed out the word, “Yup,” almost as if it had stuck in his throat. Brett knew this old trick; as smooth as Parker was, a part of him always wanted people to know when he was lying. Maybe he wanted to get caught, or maybe he wanted to prove he could drop hints and still get away with whatever he wanted. Either way, Brett’s eyes drifted to the duffel bag slung over Parker’s shoulder, wondering what he was keeping from them.

  “Let me ask you guys something,” Juniper said after a minute. “Did anyone think it was weird? I mean, does anyone think this whole thing is weird?”

  Brett swallowed, his stomach twisting at the words. “Sure, it’s a little weird. But what choice did we have?”

  A quiet settled over the group as they each thought about what they wanted, and how desperate they were to get it. One year ago Brett was a rising star in the ring. Juniper was on track to become valedictorian. Ruby was preparing her Juilliard audition, while Gavin and Parker visited the Ivy Leagues.

  Then, in one horrible night, everything had changed.

  “I’m doing okay,” Juniper said, talking to her hands. “If I ace all my finals, and do extra credit work, I’ll be fine,” she went on, and nobody corrected her. She’d be fine, meaning she’d get to attend the school of her choice. But bye-bye valedictorian. Bye-bye free ride. That was what happened when you lost a month of school.

  Of course, none of their grades had been particularly stellar in the weeks following the accident. Any academic scholarships had drifted away with the smoke. And for someone like Brett, whose grades were mediocre to begin with, quitting boxing meant losing everything.

  He needed this money more than anyone.

  “So we have the basics,” he said. “But if Gavin’s the victim, does that mean there are clues . . . on him? Oh! Juniper, check the jacket.”

  “What?” Juniper narrowed her eyes. Clearly, she’d forgotten that Gavin had draped his jacket over her shoulders moments earlier. Now she shrugged the jacket off, turning the pockets inside out. “Nothing,” she said.

  “Hold on.” Parker crouched down, sliding a hand into Gavin’s pants pocket. It was awkward to watch, but seconds later, he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. “Booyah,” he crooned, smoothing the note. “Wait until a quarter after . . . Appear reluctant to take a drink . . . Barely touch the cider to your lips, then take a tumble. Oh, crap. These are just his instructions.”

  Juniper snatched the note, reading in silence. “Oh, thank God. I thought he was—” She broke off, shaking her head. “You really scared me, you jerk,” she told Gavin, who sighed in response.

  “Told you he was acting,” Ruby said with a smirk. “Now, to find his killer. But where—”

  As if in answer, music drifted in from the hallway. Carnival music, which matched the theme of their characters perfectly. Everyone in the group turned to look at each other—well, everyone but Gavin.

  Then they bolted from the room.

  They came to a stop at the base of a grand, wrought-iron staircase, which spiraled to the second floor. The music was coming from upstairs. Still, not everyone was mesmerized by the staircase and all the secrets that lay beyond. Ruby had turned and was looking behind them.

  “Holy passage to Narnia,” Brett said, following her gaze. There, pressed against the front entrance of the house, was a wardrobe. Brett strode over to it. He’d seen enough movies to know that killers had a penchant for hiding in ridiculous places, and even though the intercom had hinted that one of them wanted to silence Gavin, Brett wouldn’t have been the least bit surprised to find another killer lurking nearby. After all, the table had been set for six, and Doll Face’s card said, I am already here.

  Maybe the trick was to find her.

  Unfortunately, the wardrobe was empty. It wasn’t even housing winter coats. And as much as Brett had loved the idea of slipping into another world when he was a kid, he’d long since given up on finding magical solutions to his problems. “Why is this here?” he asked, trying to nudge the wardrobe away from the door. It didn’t budge. At all. “Is the Ringmaster trying to keep us in the house?”

  Parker shook his head. “I think it means the front door is off-limits. Like we have to stick—”

  “To certain areas of the house,” Brett said, and immediately cringed. Why had he said that? Why did he finish Parker’s sentences like they were bonded? But Parker just nodded, smiling in that bright, easy way of his. Parker’s smile was like the sun. It warmed Brett to his core.

  “That would explain why the back door isn’t blocked,” Ruby reasoned. “We’re supposed to investigate the patio.”

  “The pool,” Juniper said, hugging herself. Ruby wrapped an arm around her shoulders. It was sweet and comforting and entirely un-Ruby-like. But then, Ruby hadn’t always been the unfeeling statue that she was now.

  Last year had changed all of them.

  “So, we make our way upstairs then,” Ruby said, letting her arm slide away. But she stayed next to Juniper, and Parker followed close behind. Brett was at the front of the pack, taking the stairs two at a time.

  “What do you think we’ll find?” he asked, tossing the words behind him.

  Nobody answered, but all of them were racing up the steps. Getting into the investigation. Brett started to feel like a kid again, racing through the forest in the middle of the night. One summer, when he was six, he’d snuck out every night to meet Gavin in the woods, and together, they’d fed a couple of baby birds with an eyedropper. The birds had fallen from their nest during a storm, and Brett had refused to let them die.

  Now, bounding to the top of the stairs, he told himself he could save another life. His own. He just had to solve the mystery before anyone else. A dark, wood-paneled hallway spread out in front of him, leading to five doors, and he stepped up to the first door on the left. Someone had painted a drop of water there. It was a crude, elementary drawing, like something a child would scribble when his parents weren’t looking.

  “The Underwater Acrobat,” Brett said. When Juniper tensed, he added, “I’m guessing.”

  But he knew he was right. Even before he found his own door, with a little sword drawn on it, he knew he was right. Parker’s door had a flame on it. Ruby’s had a ghost. As the group made their way to the door at the end of the hallway, Brett noticed the painting hanging from the wall. A black-haired family stared back at him, two parents and two children. A girl and a boy.

  “What the hell?” Parker muttered.

  Brett’s head snapped to the side. “What?” he asked, his mouth going dry. The sight of those children was unsettling.

  “There’s nothing here,” Parker said, pointing at the fifth door. “Maybe Gavin doesn’t get a bedroom. He is dead, after all.” He made big air quotes around the word “dead,” as if to assure them he was joking.

  Still, Brett’s stomach clenched.

  “We should look inside,” Ruby said, reaching for the doorknob, and the pain in Brett’s stomach worsened. He was pretty sure the music had been coming from inside that room.

  He held his breath as Ruby twisted the knob.

  “It’s locked,” she said, pulling back her hand like it’d been burned. Without speaking, the four of them returned to their respective doors. Brett and Parker jiggled their own knobs to see if they were unlocked.

  They were.

  “I think it’s pretty obvious what we have to do,” Brett said. All of them looked a little smaller than they had a minute before. Rule number one for avoiding a killer was:
Don’t split up.

  And yet, none of them was going to back out first. Their mysterious benefactor had put together the perfect group. Each of them had a secret. Each of them had an obsession. Each of them had a weapon, probably, considering the way Brett’s card had been laid out. If the Ringmaster played his cards right, he’d never have to reveal himself tonight. The players would take care of the competition. Screw each other over. Stab each other in the back.

  Together, they opened their doors and slipped into their rooms.

  7.

  CHILDHOOD ILLUSIONS

  Juniper stepped into the first bedroom on the left, closing the door behind her. For a minute, she considered blocking the door with some furniture, but there was no point in keeping her classmates out. She was just playing a game.

  So she kept telling herself, but when she turned around, taking in the contents of the room, her breath caught in her throat. The place was set up like a college dorm. There was a twin bed on either side of the room, one with a scarlet comforter, and one with practical white. Juniper knew immediately which one was hers. But it didn’t really matter, she thought, as she crossed the hardwood floor. Both sides of the room were decorated the same way: the walls were covered with photographs of two smiling girls, one with golden-brown skin and dark hair, the other a pale-skinned redhead. Juniper and Ruby dressed as an angel and a devil for Halloween. Juniper and Ruby riding miniature ponies at the fair. Juniper and Ruby taking swimming lessons together.

  She swallowed, leaning against the wall. The feeling of vertigo was overwhelming, like she was being torn in two. The Ringmaster had created the unique effect of tossing her into the past and the future at the same time. The walls were a testament to all that had been, but the rest of the room was a shrine to what could never be.

  The beds were the tip of the iceberg. On Juniper’s bedside table—the table beside the bright white bed—sat a copy of Gray’s Anatomy, a framed medical license, and dozens of handmade greeting cards. Opening the one on top, Juniper read the crude black writing that danced across purple construction paper:

  Dear Dr. Torres,

  Thank you for saving my mommy’s life! She’s much better now.

  Your friend,

  Quinn P.

  Juniper shuddered, closing the card. The name Quinn P. was meaningless, but the Ringmaster’s intent was clear. This room was a representation of everything Juniper wanted: the dorm room, the medical degree, the letters from children of patients she’d saved. Honestly, the level of detail was astounding. It was like someone had reached into her chest and taken hold of her heart. Every wish, every desire, was laid out before her. If she’d kept a diary, she would have sworn someone had stolen it.

  But that was the thing: Juniper didn’t keep a diary. She didn’t even keep an anonymous blog. There was no way the Ringmaster could know this much about her, unless he’d been watching her for a very long time.

  Or he’d broken into her actual bedroom.

  Juniper’s legs wobbled, and she perched on the edge of the bed, taking slow, measured breaths. There had to be a logical explanation for this. Half the kids in her grade knew that she wanted to be a doctor, and anyone with access to her Facebook page could’ve printed these photos.

  She wasn’t being stalked.

  She’d almost steadied her heartbeat when she noticed the photograph on the dresser. Unlike the rest of the pictures, which had been plastered across the walls, this one sat alone in a mahogany frame. Blood rushed through Juniper’s ears as she strode over to it. This picture was not in any of her Facebook albums.

  This picture, she’d deleted. It had been taken on Christmas Eve, eight years earlier. Juniper and Ruby (of course) were sitting beside a sparkling tree, holding up two unwrapped presents.

  Porcelain dolls.

  Beautiful or terrifying? Juniper thought with the ghost of a smile. Back when the girls were young, they’d believed the dolls to be beautiful, but as they’d gotten older, their perception had shifted. The dolls had become terrifying, their eerie glass eyes watching the girls as they huddled in bed. Those perfect bow lips, when spied in a certain light, looked like they were curling into a smile. Eventually, the girls had gathered up all their toys and divided them into two sections: “beautiful” or “terrifying.” Anything that fell into the terrifying category was torched in a bonfire.

  Now, disturbed by those perfect porcelain faces, Juniper set the photograph, facedown, on the dresser. That was when she noticed the present behind it. The box was small and black, wrapped in a pretty red ribbon. She knew she should leave it exactly where it was and get the hell out of this room.

  But she didn’t. If the room contained her deepest desires, that box could contain her darkest secret. She needed to know what the Ringmaster knew, and besides, opening the present would take seconds. Look, the ribbon was already off! Soon Juniper was lifting the lid. Inside, she found a folded sheet of paper, and beneath it, the box was molded so that she could stick an object inside. She reached into her purse. There, she pulled out the object the Ringmaster had asked her to bring to the murder mystery dinner.

  The “weapon.”

  Some weapon, she thought, sliding it into place. The bright red marker fit perfectly, as if the box had been made for it. But then, it probably had, she thought, unfolding the sheet of paper with trembling hands. It was a photocopy of two plane tickets. Both to Cuba, leaving June 13, the day after graduation. Underneath the tickets, someone had scribbled: Hand over your weapon, and I’ll make all your dreams come true.

  Tremors raced up Juniper’s arms, causing her to sway. The room had been disturbing enough. But this was too real. Two tickets to Cuba, the exact place Ruby and Juniper had wanted to go, on the exact day they’d planned to leave. This was vicious.

  “She’ll never go with me,” Juniper said, blinking back tears. She was speaking to an empty room. To the Ringmaster. To herself. Even as she said it, her mind swam with possibilities. If she could convince Ruby to get on the plane, they’d have one week away from this place. One week away from the memories. The mistakes. She could apologize for the pain she’d caused, the two could make peace . . .

  No, Juniper thought. This is ridiculous. Like, full-blown nonsense. She needed to grab Ruby and get out of this mansion. They could carry Gavin between them, if he wasn’t pretending to be asleep. Parker and Brett could follow. Or they could kill each other to win a prize.

  A chill unfurled in Juniper’s stomach, and she went to pull the marker back out of the box. But as her fingers brushed the tip, she heard a scream from the room next door. Then a crashing sound, like a body hitting the wall.

  Ruby.

  8.

  DADDY’S GIRL

  Ruby took slow, measured breaths. She steadied her hands. But she couldn’t steady her heart. Every time she looked around at the eerily arranged bedroom, her stomach tightened and her heartbeat spiked.

  She was standing in a room that had been plucked from her dreams. There was a red velvet bedspread, so old that the red was fading to pink, and a vanity covered with antique jewelry. Ruby adored old things, unloved things, forgotten things. None of her stuffed animals had their original eyes. And that, too, was reflected here. Half a dozen teddy bears were strewn across the bed, each with glowing beads for eyes.

  Red, of course. Ruby’s favorite color.

  She stepped up to the bed and cradled a teddy bear to her chest. It was comforting, even in this curious situation. Climbing onto the velvet bedspread, she lay back on the bed, hoping to calm her erratic heartbeat.

  It took her a moment to notice the man. He was staring at her from the ceiling, his ginger hair messy. His brown eyes bright. Here, he was smiling. Here, he was pensive. Here, he was holding a redheaded baby in his arms, looking down at the child with so much love, tears filled Ruby’s eyes.

  She sat bolt upright, but she couldn’t escape him. There was a framed photograph on the bedside table, which had been taken at a picnic, and it contained the whol
e Valentine family. Mother and father and kids. It was the last photograph they’d taken together, before her father disappeared.

  Ruby screamed, hurling the photograph against the wall.

  Glass shattered. For an instant, she felt better, vindication surging in her chest. Then she dissolved into tears. Her vision was swimming when Juniper burst into the room, a blur of blue sequins and black hair.

  “What happened?” Juniper asked, hurrying to her side. “Was someone in here? Did they hurt you?”

  Ruby lifted a finger and pointed. There, on the floor, lay the shattered remains of the photograph. Juniper crept over to it, lifting the wooden frame. “Who threw this?”

  This time Ruby actually laughed, before her smile slipped away. “I did.”

  Juniper’s eyes narrowed. “You threw . . . Oh.” Understanding dawned on her face as she studied the collage above the bed. That thing was like a shrine to Ruby’s father. There were giant poster-size photos. Itty-bitty wallet-size prints.

  “Okay, I have to ask you something,” Juniper said.

  Ruby stared at the ground. Even now, two years later, the sight of her father’s smile left her doubled over, gasping for breath. No matter how much time went by, the pain remained fresh. “Ask.”

  “Where did these pictures come from? I thought your mom tore up everything after he left.”

  Ruby nodded slowly. “She did,” she said after a minute, unsure of how much she should say. “But she never cracked the password to his Facebook page. For a while, she kept checking it for updates, every hour on the hour, obsessing over it. Searching for a sign that he was out there. After a year of nothing, we ended up blocking him, because we couldn’t . . .” She trailed off, dropping her head into her hands.

  “I’m sorry,” Juniper whispered, and Ruby knew what was coming. Even before the words passed Juniper’s lips, she knew it. “I’m sorry for what’s happening now, and for what I—”

  “Don’t.” Ruby pushed off the bed, crossing the room. “I don’t want to talk about it. I want to get out of here.”