“Genesis needs a favor.”
“Then Genesis can ask me.”
“She doesn’t know about it. But you owe her, after you posted that video.”
Neda makes a gurgling growl of irritation right in my ear. “What do you want, Maddie?”
“I want you to post another video. Luke’s getting it ready right now.” He trimmed the video so that it shows only the incriminating transaction and zoomed in so that Penelope isn’t shown.
He also deleted the audio, to keep from incriminating her accidentally.
“Done.” He brushes his hands together, then holds them in the air in a gesture of triumph. “I’m sending it now. Tell her to check her email.”
“Email?” Neda groans, clearly having heard him. “Text it to me.”
“It’s too big for a text,” Luke says, and he doesn’t seem to care whether or not she can still hear him.
“Open your email,” I snap at Neda. She groans, then the sound changes when she puts us on speaker so she can navigate through her phone menu.
“Okay, I’ve got it.” There’s a pause. “If I play this and get some kind of virus, I’m coming after you both.”
“If I promise we’re quaking in fear, will you open the damn video?”
She huffs. “What’s on it?”
“It’s . . . scandalous.” It’s actually evidence, but I suspect she’ll be more motivated by a bump in viewership than by helping us bring a spoiled rich kid—one of her friends—to justice.
“A secret video?” Her voice sounds suddenly perky with interest.
“Yes. And this is a limited-time offer. If you’re not willing to post this quickly, we’ll send it out wide, and you can watch every major news network in the country scoop you.”
“Wow.” She still sounds insulted, but now she’s also a little impressed. “Let me watch, and I’ll call you right back.”
“You have ten minutes. Then we’re moving on.” I hang up on her.
Luke gives me a curious look. “Why aren’t we going to every major network in the country? They have a far greater reach than one webshow.”
“Because they also have journalistic integrity.” A code of honor I normally support wholeheartedly. “They’ll have to verify the source, and that will take a while. Neda can’t even spell integrity.” I shrug. “That, and I like the symmetry of it. Her video is what ultimately brought Genesis down. Now she can do the same for Holden.”
Neda calls back with thirty-nine seconds to spare. “Maddie, I can’t post this. Penelope and I shot that video! Our friends are in the background!”
“Genesis is your friend, but you posted footage of her and Indiana,” I point out.
“They’re not going to get arrested for making out in a parking lot.”
“But Genesis can get arrested for what Holden said on the news this morning. And he did that to get back at her for what you posted.”
“I had no idea he was going to do that,” Neda insists. “I didn’t even know Genesis pushed the button.”
“She wanted to destroy the explosives before they could be used against anyone. And now she might go to prison. Because of you.”
“Fine.” Neda sighs, but this time I can hear guilt in the sound. “I’ll post it after school tomorrow.”
“No. Do it now.”
“Maddie, my parents are going out of town tomorrow, so they’re dragging me out for a family dinner. I can film something tonight and schedule it to go live in the morning, right before school starts.”
“Fine.” That’s obviously the best I’m going to get. “But Neda, if you go back on your word, we’ll do this without you. And I swear to God you’ll go down with Holden.” I hang up the phone and find Luke staring at me, brows arched high. “What? I’m sick of being lied to.”
“Do you think the timing is cruel, considering that the Wainwright benefit is this weekend? Or would you call that fitting?”
“After what he did the day after my brother’s funeral?” I give him a small smile. “I’m going to have to go with karmically sound.”
1 DAY, 12 HOURS EARLIER
I’m sure.
GENESIS
“You sure about this?” Indiana asks from the passenger seat.
I stare out the windshield at the back entrance of my school. “I’m sure.”
“Want me to come with you?”
“They won’t let you in if you’re not a student. And that would defeat the purpose. This is my shitstorm. I have to weather it alone.”
And maybe that’s how it should be.
“Call me if you need me,” Indiana says as I grip the door handle. “I’ll be back for lunch.”
“You can take my car.” I try to hand him the keys, but he pushes them back at me with a smile.
“Nah, I’ll take the bus. In case you decide to come home early.”
I should argue. Knowing there’s a way out might tempt me to take it. But no one could fault me for having a safety net, right?
I glance at the dashboard, my hand still on the car door handle. School starts in eight minutes. My dad is probably already in his lawyer’s office. I could easily put the key back in the ignition and drive down there.
Instead I take a deep breath and open the door. Then I step into the parking lot, because unless I get arrested, I will be graduating with my class in six weeks. If I can’t walk down the hall right now, how will I be able to walk the line at graduation?
Thank goodness reporters aren’t allowed on school grounds.
“Breathe,” Indiana whispers as he closes the passenger’s side door. I take another deep breath while he rounds the front of the car toward me. “I’ll see you later.” He leans in for a kiss, and I let myself linger in the moment. Taking courage from affection that doesn’t come with strings—a refreshing novelty, considering I’ve been betrayed by both my best friends and my ex-boyfriend.
Finally I let Indiana go and click my key fob. The car beeps as it locks. I head for the school. Indiana’s footsteps echo behind me, headed in the other direction. I want to look back, but I don’t.
The hallway goes silent when I step into the building. Everyone stares. No one greets me. As I start down the hall, the whispers begin. The only word I catch clearly is my name. In itself, that isn’t unusual. People have always talked about me, and I’ve always taken pride in my ability to guide the conversation. But I didn’t aim this spotlight at myself, and this time I have no control over what’s being said.
I ignore everything else and head for my locker. A crowd blocks my way, but it parts as I approach. I stumble to a shocked stop.
“Murderer” is written across the front of my locker in large red letters. The paint is still wet and dripping. A chill washes over me.
I walk past my locker, headed for my first class, and hope that we don’t need a textbook today, because I can’t get to mine. I can’t open that door.
Behind me, the whispers crescendo. There’s no laughter. This isn’t a prank. The message is very clear. They don’t care why I pushed the button. They only care that I did.
“My sister was on that boat.” The voice comes out of nowhere. I don’t recognize the face suddenly inches from mine. I try to go around him, but he steps back into my path and makes a rough noise in his throat. Then he spits at me.
A glob of saliva and phlegm lands on my shirt.
For a second, I can only stare at him in shock. Then I step around him and into my first-period class while the whispers in the hallway continue at my back.
I want to run. I want to hide. I want to cry. But the soul-crushing truth is that I am not the victim here. I survived the jungle. The machetes. The bombs.
I will damn well survive Holden Wainwright.
My faith in humanity is dead.
MADDIE
I refresh my phone screen again, but the image doesn’t change. There’s no new video on Neda’s site. “She’s not going to do it.”
“I think she will.” Luke sips from his juice
carton, then sets it on his breakfast tray. His waffle is half gone. Mine is untouched. “But in case she doesn’t, I’m ready to click send on our backup plan.” His laptop sits open on the cafeteria table in front of us, connected to the school’s Wi-Fi. The video is already attached to an email addressed to every major television network in the country. As well as a few small and local ones, in case the bigger ones don’t read their email very quickly.
The backup video is twice as long as the compilation Neda got, and it’s captioned with names and dates. We even found one clip where she walks past in the background. That isn’t directly incriminating, but it will make it harder for her to deny that she knew Holden was selling.
Evidently everyone in his inner circle knew. Why shouldn’t the rest of the world?
“She lied to us. She’s not going to do it.” I tap the screen again, and Luke’s hand settles onto mine, stilling my fingers.
“Maddie.” He sounds . . . worried. “Stop. Have a little faith.”
But my faith in humanity is dead.
My phone buzzes, and a text appears on the screen. A single word.
Liar.
“What?” Luke says, and I show him the text. “Wow. I thought that was over. It’s been a while since you got an anonymous message, right?”
“Since I got an anonymous text anyway. But someone wrote ‘Liar’ across my locker the other day.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
I shrug. “Stuff kept coming up. Neda’s video. Ryan’s funeral. Holden’s bombshell. And anyway, there’s no way to trace a message left on your locker. But this . . . ?” I hand him the phone. “What can you tell me?”
He opens the third-party app. “We have a phone number. I should be able to find out who it belongs to.” He opens a new window on his laptop, while I swirl a bite of waffle around in my syrup.
Most people don’t eat breakfast in the cafeteria, but everyone who does is looking at us. It’s been nearly a week, but the whispers and stares haven’t gone away, and they probably won’t as long as Holden keeps the kidnapping—and the Splendor—in the news.
I glance at my phone again. “Five minutes. If the video’s not up by then, I’ll click send myself.”
“Should we send her a warning?” Luke asks while he types. “Or a reminder? For all we know, Neda’s still trying to capitalize on her beauty rest.”
“Yeah, I—” Crap. Kathryn Coppela is standing in the cafeteria doorway. I turn back to my phone, pretending I haven’t seen her. Our little exposé/revenge plot doesn’t need a witness.
Maybe she hasn’t seen me.
I refresh my phone’s browser again, and there it is. “It’s up!” On screen, Neda is sitting on one of the pink couches in her studio. She’s perfectly made up and wearing one of her typical designer ensembles, but she’s not smiling.
Quickly, I pull my earbuds from my pocket and plug them into my phone, then hand Luke the left half, so we can share. And so that no one else can hear.
“Hey, this is Neda Rahbar. You’re watching a special edition of Survival Mode, and I’m about to throw three truths at you, so get ready. I know that by now most of you have seen the video I posted the other day of my friend Genesis and her new boyfriend. And I know you’ve probably also heard Holden’s theory about what happened to the Splendor. I have no personal knowledge of what happened to the Splendor, so I can neither confirm nor deny his account. But what I do know from multiple first-hand sources is that he wasn’t there either. Holden had already escaped into the jungle, abandoning all of our friends, when the ship exploded. Which means he did not see for himself what happened.”
Neda takes a deep breath and continues. “The second thing I know for a fact is that the video I showed you guys doesn’t actually show Genesis cheating on Holden. The truth is that they broke up in the jungle. That’s totally verified, and if you don’t believe me, you can ask anyone else who was there. Gen and her new boyfriend have been together since then. Holden lied to everyone because he thought it made him look more like a hero, and I’m embarrassed to admit that I helped him do that. I shouldn’t have posted the video, and Genesis, I am so damn sorry.”
She takes another deep breath and picks up her remote control. “The third thing you guys need to hear is this: Holden Wainwright is no golden boy. He’s actually a lying, cheating, drug-dealing bastard who’s now hurt two of my best friends. Don’t believe me? Check this out.”
Neda presses a button on her remote and the shot of her studio is replaced with the first image of the compilation video Luke and I sent her.
I watch for a few seconds, then I pause the video and turn to Luke, astonished.
“Holy crap,” he whispers. “She almost sounded like a journalist.”
“She almost sounded like a human!” I tap the address bar at the top of my screen to save the URL, then I text it to Penelope.
FYI, she did this as much for you as for Genesis.
I could have handled gossip.
GENESIS
The bell rings to end first period, and I leap out of my chair as if it’s on fire. Doors open all along the hallway, and my classmates pour out of them. About half of them are staring at their phones. Neda’s voices rings out from several of them, tinny from the cell phone speakers and garbled because I’m hearing several of her at once.
I stifle a groan. They’re still watching the video of me and Indiana.
People look up from their phones and stare at me. They start to whisper. My pulse begins to pound.
I turn and walk the other way.
Penelope rounds the corner and sees me. I clutch the strap of my bag and turn again to jog back the way I came, dodging elbows, book bags, and open locker doors. “Genesis, wait!” she calls after me.
I run faster, then burst through the door into the parking lot and head for my car.
I tried. I could have handled gossip. I could have stared rumors in the face and laughed at myself, if I were being ridiculed for doing something stupid or embarrassing. But this is different.
This is hatred.
I head for my car, but I freeze when I see it, anger rolling over me like the pressure wave from an explosion. “What the hell?” I run toward my car, my book bag bouncing on my back.
“Damn it . . .” All four of my windows have been bashed in, and my windshield is shattered on the driver’s side. Even if I could lean over to see out the passenger’s side, I wouldn’t get very far. All four of my tires have been slashed.
And the word “murderer” has been painted on the driver’s side in huge letters spanning both the front and rear doors.
Fighting angry tears, I pull up my ride share app and request a car. While I’m waiting, I take pictures of my trashed car from every angle, for the insurance. Then I text them to my father.
He was right. I should have stayed home.
My ride arrives, and I open the rear passenger door and toss my book bag inside. Before I can get in, something across the street catches my eye, and I look over the roof of the car at the woman staring back at me.
Silvana.
I can’t imagine.
MADDIE
My phone buzzes in my pocket. My physics teacher is staring at something on her computer screen, so I subtly pull my cell out and hold it in my lap. The text is from Genesis. It’s a picture of her car, all smashed up, with the word “murderer” written across the driver’s side.
Oh my God.
I squint, trying to decide if the writing on her car matches the writing on my locker. I can’t tell. Could the same person be stalking us both?
There are only five minutes left in class and everyone else is at least pretending to work on the homework. I stand and take the stupid bathroom pass—a big wooden key—from its hook next to the door and make eye contact with my teacher. She nods, and I step into the hall.
On the way to the bathroom, I dial Genesis, but she doesn’t answer. So I send a text.
Call me! We need to compare notes.
>
In the bathroom, I stare at the number the anonymous texts have come from. Luke said it belongs to a prepaid phone, and there’s no way to know who bought it.
I copy the number and paste it into my texting app.
Who is this?
For nearly a minute, there’s no answer. Then . . .
A friend.
No friend would vandalize my locker or smash my cousin’s car.
Bullshit. What do you want?
The answer comes a minute later.
Truth. I know about your dad.
For a second, I can actually hear my heart pound. Then I realize I’m actually hearing footsteps, coming from the hallway.
Chill, Maddie.
I press the call button before I can chicken out. A phone rings on the other side of the bathroom door. From the hallway.
I blink, staring at the door. Coincidence. Has to be.
The ringing from the hallway ends. An electronic voice mail greeting plays in my ear.
I throw the door open and race into the hall. A girl with a brown ponytail is staring at her phone, with her back to me.
“Kathryn?” I croak. She whirls toward me, eyes wide. Then her gaze slides down to the phone I’m still clutching, and she seems to understand.
But I don’t.
“You . . . ? Why . . . ? Why are you sending me threats?”
Her eyes water. “They’re not threats. I just . . . I wanted you to tell the truth. About your dad. I know he’s not dead, Maddie. I know he’s in Colombia. I also know there are no coincidences.”
“What—? How—?” I glance around the empty hallway, then pull her into the bathroom with me. “How do you know that?”
“The night I came to your house, right after you got back, I . . . I missed your brother. I went into his room, to kind of say good-bye, but your mother was in there. She was drunk and upset, and she was saying . . . I don’t even think she knew what she was saying, but she told me she didn’t believe he was dead.”