The problem is, I’ve been staring at the wall for months now, and I can’t even find a starting point. I’m afraid of where the trail will lead me when I do figure it all out, and I don’t know if I’ll be brave enough to follow it.
LOCATION: SHADOW COVE HIGH
TIME: 7:54 AM
DATE: MONDAY, MARCH 22TH
I spent most of the rest of the weekend cleaning the house as an apology to my mom for not answering my phone and for going through her computer files. Sure, she may never know about the last part, but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel a little bit guilty for doing it. I also tried to bring up Don Jennings a couple of times to get to the bottom of what’s going on, but every time I so much as mentioned his name, she shut down the conversation.
Her odd behavior raises the suspicion factor immensely. I don’t want to believe she’s having an affair with him, but what if she is? Not only is that gross, but it makes both of them cheaters.
After looking through her emails on Saturday, I did a search online for a report on the girl who drowned. Nothing came up, and my frustration bubbled.
Back when my dad reported for the newspaper, he had to fight to get certain stories printed. A lot of the “more complicated and unsettling stories,” as his boss and the mayor put it, weren’t allowed in print. Topics like deaths, robberies, and other illegal activities were often swept under the rug. Most of the time, my father had a pain in the ass time interviewing people because hardly anyone wanted to discuss a story that didn’t show the pleasant side of Shadow Cove.
On Sunday, I work on my project with Ev for a little bit, and then checked online again to see if the story popped up, but nope, nothing. I ended up asking my mom again about the incident, but she insisted on knowing nothing, not even the girl’s name. I think she might be lying since she refused to make eye contact.
On a more positive note, I haven’t hallucinated again. Thank God. Plus, as a double bonus, I managed to chill on Facetime with my friends, during which Kennedy informed me she’s come up with a few fabulous ideas to get Dixon back. When I asked her what the plans entailed, she told me—and very evilly, I might add—that I’ll have to wait until Monday morning to find out because she had to check on a few things first.
Needless to say, by the time Monday morning rolls around, I’m more than bursting with eagerness.
“Why isn’t Kennedy in her car?” Ev asks as I park my beat-up 1989 Camaro next to her nearly brand new Mercedes.
I shrug, just as perplexed as her.
Since Kennedy lives so far away from Ev, Embry, and me, she normally drives to school by herself. But since she loathes almost everyone we go to school with, she typically hangs out in her car until the three of us arrive. Why she’d wander in by herself today is a mystery. I have a feeling one of her revenge plots might have something to do with it.
“Do you think I should dye my hair purple?” Embry asks randomly from the backseat. She has a compact mirror out and is frowning at her reflection. “I think I’m sick of the red.”
“You just dyed it last week.” Ev slips her seatbelt off and rotates around to face her. “How can you be sick of it already?”
Embry snaps the compact mirror closed then tosses it into her worn messenger bag. “I get bored easily. Besides, Emilia Greyferson was talking about dyeing her hair the same color.” She grimaces. “I mean, seriously, where’s her originality?”
I smile to myself. Embry is all about originality. Just look at her outfit: red, clunky boots decorated with skulls and buckles; fishnet stockings; a pleated grey skirt; and a torn black T-shirt. The girl loves being the unicorn of our school.
“Even if Emilia dyes her hair red, I think you’ll still be a unicorn,” I tease Embry as I dig my buzzing phone out of the pocket of my torn black skinny jeans.
Kennedy: Meet me by the Rewards Board ASAP. I have an official Take Dixon Down Revenge Plan.
The Rewards Board is a place where students can post ads for lost items, tutors wanted, tutors for hire—things like that. Teachers and the administration often post announcements there, as well. The digitalized board is flashy and showy, stretching across half the wall near the main office. Why Kennedy would want us to meet her there is beyond me. I put my phone away and collect my car keys and bag, ready to find out.
“Kennedy wants us to meet her by the Rewards Board,” I announce, reaching for the door handle.
Ev and Embry trade a perplexed look before collecting their bags and books.
Embry slings her messenger bag over her shoulder and scoots toward the door, asking, “Why? Did she lose something?”
I push the door open to get out. “She said she has an official plan to pay back Dixon.”
“Maybe her revenge plot is up on that board,” Embry suggests with a wicked grin.
“God, I hope she didn’t post something on the board about Dixon,” Ev gripes. “If he finds out Kennedy did it, he’ll go after her.”
“And we’ll be there to have her back.” Embry grins, hops out of the car, and starts across the busy parking lot toward the school.
Ev and I follow suit, jogging after her. When we reach her side, we slow down and match her pace as we make our way up the sidewalk and to the double entrance door, doing our best to ignore the nasty looks and whispering gossip being thrown in our direction. I can’t hear everything being said, but I’ve dealt with the town’s mockery long enough that I have a pretty good guess: 1). They’re making fun of Embry’s outfit, calling her a devil worshipping freak or some shit like that. 2). They’re making fun of me, the girl whose dad abandoned her. The girl whose brother committed suicide. The girl no one wants to be around. None of this is new; I’ve heard it all before. 3). Kennedy has done something to Dixon, and word has already spread around the school. Or 4). Word has gotten around about Dixon shouting that we slept together.
“You know, after years of this shit, you’d think they’d get tired of it,” Embry mutters as we ascend the wide stairway that leads to the entrance doors.
People file around us, moving as far away as possible, like we’re carriers of a viral plague. Even some of the people who used to be my kind of, sort of friends—before my family became the town gossip—join in the gawk fest. That, I find a bit irking. I mean, we’re not friends with them or anything, but we have a mutual understanding to never, ever gang up on each other.
“Is it me, or does everyone seem really grossed out by us today?” I ask Ev and Embry as I open the heavy door and step inside the school.
Ev and Embry join my side, and we start up the hallway toward the Rewards Board. Eyes flick in our direction as we pass the rows of lockers and people surrounding them.
“It’s definitely not you,” Embry mumbles, her clunky boots squeaking against the black and white checkered floor.
Ev chews on her thumbnail, keeping her head tucked down, her brown hair a veil around her face. “I hate it when they stare like this. It gives me anxiety.”
I loop arms with her and tug her close to my side. “Chin up, Ev. Don’t let them know they’re affecting you.”
She lifts her chin but remains tense as we walk down the hallway side by side.
“Attention students,” the secretary’s voice flows through the intercom. “Due to an increase in locker theft, we would like to advise students to make sure they’re lockers are shut and locked securely during class hours. Thank you.”
“Well, that’s new,” I say, trying to ignore the continuous gawking in our direction. “Thievery at Shadow Cove High?” My voice drips with mockery. “Are the rich kids getting bored or something?”
“It could be some of the poor kids,” Ev says. “I know you don’t like to think that, Mak, but maybe they’re doing it because they need money.”
I sigh. “I know. But you never know.”
By the time we get to the Rewards Board, Kennedy is waiting for us with an impatient look on her face, casting glances at her diamond encrusted watch. Above her, the infamous massive m
arquee sparkles with digital numbers and letters—a request for a tutor, followed by a phone number to call.
I’ve never used the Rewards Board before, but I do know that, in order to get an ad up there, a student has to go into the main office and put in a request with the secretary. However, a few times, students have hacked into the system and rigged the marquee to show an ad about the local gossip around the school.
Before my brother died, he was the subject of a false ad. “Sawyer Evingston has drugs in his locker and was selling crack down at the corner this morning.” This was before Sawyer started getting really depressed, back when he was a happy, joking brother who in no way came off as a drug dealer. Still, the cops were called in, and Sawyer was searched and questioned. Nothing was found, but the incident gave the school even more of a reason to torment my too-nice-for-his-own-good brother. Now, whenever I see the Rewards Board, a little bit of hatred for this school burns inside my chest.
“Oh, my God, you guys took forever.” Kennedy’s designer heels click against the floor as she shoves her way through the mob. “What’s with everyone today?” She stops in front of us and raises her tone. “Didn’t anyone ever learn that staring’s rude?”
“Didn’t you learn no one gives a shit about anything that comes out of your mouth?” Hunter, a senior who plays lacrosse, shouts at Kennedy from across the hall.
Kennedy rolls her eyes, sliding her leather purse higher onto her shoulder. “Shut up, Hunter, or I’ll tell everyone what you did last summer at Tia’s birthday bash!”
Hunter’s eyes pop wide, and then he hurries down the hallway in the opposite direction.
“Okay, what did he do at the birthday bash?” Embry wonders with delight in her eyes.
Kennedy waves her off. “That’s another story for another day. Right now, we have bigger problems to worry about.”
“You mean, why everyone’s staring at us like we forgot to wear pants or something?” I ask, doing a double-check that I fully have my outfit on. Sneakers: check. Torn skinny jeans: check. Plaid shirt with all the buttons done up: check.
“Exactly.” Kennedy taps her polished pale pink fingernail against her glossy lips. “Did anyone do anything interesting this weekend?” She glances accusingly at Embry. “Did you kick anyone’s ass?”
Embry mulls the question over for slightly too long. “Not that I can remember.”
“I know I didn’t do anything to piss anyone off—well, besides my stepmom. So that has to mean …” Kennedy turns toward me with an exaggerated smile on her face. “Mak …?”
I mimic her smile and tone. “Kennedy …?”
She laughs, shaking her head. “What did you do, and who did you do it to?”
“I didn’t do anything.” I draw an X over my heart. “I promise.”
Her meticulous brow arches. “Are you sure you didn’t piss anyone off? Like, say … by snooping around in someone’s bedroom or hacking into someone’s emails?”
I press my hand to my chest, mocking offense. “Now, why would I ever do something so horrible?”
“Um, because you love snooping around and finding out people’s dirty secrets,” she says. “You’ve been doing it since we were eight and your dad showed you how to crack passcodes.”
Man, she knows me too well.
“Okay, maybe I do snoop a lot.” I swipe a strand of hair out of my face and sigh. “But I promise I didn’t do anything this weekend.” Except for with my mom’s computer, but I’m not ready to tell them that my mom accepted money from Don Jennings and that she might be having an affair with him.
“Hmmm …” Kennedy contemplates this. “So, if none of us did anything wicked this weekend, then maybe this is about Dixon yelling that you’re great in bed.”
I pull a face. “God, I hope not. The last thing I want is for anyone to think I’m sleeping with Dixon Jennings.”
“Hey, why didn’t anyone ask me if I did anything bad?” Ev asks with a hurt look on her face.
Kennedy threads her arm through Ev’s. “Aw, my dear, sweet Ev, we don’t ask you those things because you’re the sweetest person in the entire school, and you never do anything bad, so no one ever gets upset with you.”
“That’s not true,” Ev starts to argue then sighs in defeat. “All right, maybe I do follow the rules all the time and try to be nice, but that doesn’t mean people don’t get upset with me. Just look around. Everyone in this school seems upset with us right now.”
I peer around, measuring people’s expressions. “No, they’re not upset. They’re pissed off.”
“There’s a difference?” Embry asks, fiddling around with a clasp on one of her leather wristbands.
“Upset means we probably hurt their feelings,” I explain. “Angry means we did something they think is godawful to them.”
Embry considers this then shrugs. “Well, I say fuck them. If they want to be pissed, then let them be pissed. We don’t need to stand around and give them the benefit of witnessing us squirm.” She spins toward Kennedy, her red hair whipping behind her like a cape. “So, what’s your big plan?”
Kennedy’s eyes light up with glee as she claps her hands together. “Oh, my God, it’s so brilliant.” Her gaze skims the main entrance, and then she leans in and lowers her voice. “We have about twenty minutes until the first bell rings. Let’s talk in the secret spot. Too many people are paying attention to us right now.”
We nod, and then the four of us make our way outside, past the outdoor building where detention takes place, and to the back section of the school beside the dumpsters.
“I still can’t believe no one’s found this place,” Ev remarks as Embry and I inch the smaller dumpster away from the side of the school, uncovering a door to a stairwell that leads to a basement.
Embry was the one who found the spot at the beginning of our freshman year after someone threw her art project away. She went out to the dumpster to search for it and stumbled upon the hidden door. Curious, she asked me to pick the lock. When we discovered the door led to a stairwell that hadn’t been touched in years, we declared the area our secret spot, a place we go when we need to have private conversations or just need a break from mornings like this one.
“Even if someone did find it, they wouldn’t have a clue how to get in.” Kennedy unzips her purse, digs out a hairpin, and hands it to me. “Because they don’t have Mak’s awesome lock-picking skills.”
“Nope, they sure don’t.” I grab the hairpin from her, crouch down in front of the rusty metal lock, and work my awesome lock-picking magic.
Once the lock unclicks, I return the hairpin to Kennedy, pry open the door, and usher everyone into the darkness.
“Be careful Mak,” a deep voice whispers in my ear. A voice that sounds an awful lot like Sawyer’s. “Once you start, you can’t go back.”
LOCATION: THE SECRET SPOT
TIME: 8:17 AM
DATE: MONDAY, MARCH 22ND
My heart is pounding in my chest as I fumble to get the door locked, and then I tug on the cord above our heads. Soft light filters around the flat section of space above a flight of stairs that winds down to a very cobweb-covered basement. I quickly glance around, looking for a sign of where the voice came from. My lack of surprise when I only see my friends is unsettling.
It’s starting again. Shit.
I only panic on the inside. On the outside, I’m the epitome of calm.
Embry fans her hand in front of her face, gagging. “Man, it always reeks in here like fish and rotten eggs.”
“You should be used to it by now.” Kennedy leans to the side and checks down the stairway before unzipping her purse and retrieving a crumpled receipt. “So, here’s how we’re going to get back at Dixon.” She hands me the crumpled receipt with a proud smile on her face.
I force a smile and skim the purchase on the receipt. “Um, thanks, but how is a pair of five hundred dollar shoes going to help us get back at Dixon?”
“Five hundred dollars,” Ev mouths with wi
de eyes.
“Hey, I got a twenty percent discount.” Kennedy taps the total amount for the purchase. “And the shoes aren’t my plan. This is.” She flips the receipt over and hands it back to me.
A phone number is written across the back in glittery pink ink.
“Some dude gave you his phone number,” I say with amusement, “on the back of a receipt. How very old-school of him.”
Kennedy stares at me, unimpressed. “It’s not a guy’s phone number. It’s a phone number off the marquee for a lost laptop ad. And for your information, Miss Smartass, I had to write it down because my phone battery died while I was typing it.” She points a finger at me with a sassy smirk. “And you should be grateful that I know how to do old-school, or else we wouldn’t have this awesome plan right in front of us.”
“But what is the plan, exactly?” I smooth the creases out of the receipt. “This phone number doesn’t explain much.”
A sinister grin spreads across her face. “You need a thousand bucks to enter the skate competition, and the reward for this lost laptop just happens to be a thousand dollars. So, I figure we call the dude up, ask a few questions, and then go looking for the laptop ourselves. You’re good at this detective stuff, Mak.” She bows to me, and I laugh. “Something like this should be a cakewalk for you, oh great one.”
She’s right. I do kick butt at detective stuff, but I still have reservations about this.
“I’m just finding it a little weird that there’s a thousand-dollar reward.” I assess the phone number on the receipt. “That’s more than my laptop costs brand new.”
“High-tech ones can cost up to, like, five to six thousand dollars, Mak.” Ev slides her glasses up the brim of her nose. “I’m sure a lot of the people who go to Shadow Cove High have high-tech ones. Even the computers in the library probably cost a couple thousand.”
What Lies in the Darkness (Shadow Cove Book 1) Page 5
