No, you’re wrong. Get her to the abandoned sawmill. She won’t go willingly. So take her somewhere romantic first, like the creek behind my house. There’s never anyone there during school hours. Load her up on raspberry wine coolers flavored with a little something extra. Then get her to the mill and strangle her. Perfect time. Perfect place. Perfect method. Perfect murder.
Gideon’s fingers unfolded, ready to receive the notebook. Instead, my hand glided across the table and Brandon’s covered it. That surge of adrenaline—stronger than the ones during volleyball matches—hit me when our hands touched. I released the notebook and seconds later, he licked his lips and started scribbling again.
Gideon tensed at my side. He was looking at Brandon the way he did at the party—like he might reach across the table and grab him by his letterman jacket. Brandon finished writing and pushed the notebook into my hand again. I took a sip of my strawberry milkshake and read the response.
I had no idea you were this weird. Tell me what she did to you.
The straw slid from my lips, tiny pink droplets falling onto the pages. I rubbed my fingers over the back of my scorching hot neck and wrote.
She has a photo.
Brandon took the notebook, read, and then looked up, wiggling his eyebrows at me.
My cheeks warmed. “Not that kind of photo,” I whispered, acutely aware of Gideon listening in.
Brandon gave a dramatic wink, and I giggled. He smiled widely, deepening the dimple on his cheek. It was possible I didn’t hate that dimple anymore.
Gideon leaned over the table. “What are you—” His hand shot out as he tried, unsuccessfully, to snatch the notebook. But Brandon clutched it tightly to his chest. I squealed, giggling as Brandon hurtled over the back of the booth. He did a slow-motion run, feint toss, and spin before passing it back to me. And I slipped it safely back inside my purse.
At least, I thought I did.
All I know is Brandon and I were laughing, Gideon and Laura were fuming, and everyone else in the diner was a dizzy blur.
I did a lot of reckless things that night. Drank too much. Chatted and giggled with a sworn enemy. Forgot about Gideon as the booze swam in my veins until Brandon’s dark eyes became warm and that crater dimple transformed into something disarming.
The most reckless thing I did that night: falling for Brandon’s act.
Now, I look up at Gideon, trying to bury my thoughts about Brandon. As long as he has that notebook, I can’t say a word about him. To anyone. Gideon leans against my desk, studying me. I reach out and touch his shoulder reassuringly. “I am being honest with you.”
8
A few minutes later, we’re all piled onto my bed. Gideon is convincing Asher to drive us, since biking into sketchy neighborhoods in the dark isn’t the safest. Asher’s forehead wrinkles. “So then, where are we going?”
“Remember Seth Greer?” I ask. “He was in your grade.”
“You mean creepy Seth from behind the bleachers?”
“That’s the one. Do you know anything about him?”
Asher pauses thoughtfully before nodding. “He was creepy. And he lived behind the bleachers.”
I sigh. “We saw him and Melody arguing yesterday morning outside the diner. And now Gideon thinks he was the person in the woods. So we’re going to spy on him.”
Asher shrugs and heads off to tell my parents we’re going for ice cream. Then the three of us cram into Asher’s Prius, me in the passenger’s seat and Gideon in the back.
Seth’s house is two streets from Melody’s, in a neighborhood where rusted chain-link fences barely squeeze between the houses. We park at the end of the block and turn off the engine. It’s dark, but the streetlamps cast a faint glow.
Asher digs through the glove compartment for his flashlight. “What’s the plan?”
“We could knock on the door and try to get Emily to invite us in,” I suggest.
“So this is like The Lost Boys.” Asher turns to grin at me. “We’re vampires.”
“It isn’t funny,” Gideon mutters.
“I meant we don’t have to sneak around,” I say. “Gideon and I are friends with—well, we know Emily. I can ask for help with the physics homework. You could just be along for the ride,” I say, motioning to Gideon.
“What about me?” Asher asks. “You need two people with you to ask for physics help?”
“Maybe you should stay in the car.” I smirk. “You can be the getaway driver.”
Gideon sits up in his seat. “Or we’re just the distraction. We provide Asher the opportunity to sneak around outside and dig up stuff on Seth.”
“I might even be able to get inside,” Asher offers.
“No.” Gideon shakes his head. “Too risky. Seth might be home. Cass and I can manage in there. I just want to know more about Seth. If he was seeing Melody, or if he got called in for questioning. I’m hoping Emily will give me something.”
“Try taking your shirt off,” Asher suggests.
Gideon rolls his eyes and unbuckles his seat belt. “Okay, so that’s the plan. One small problem though. How’s Cass going to convince Emily she needs help on an assignment?”
I hadn’t thought that far ahead. My grades are the one thing I have in common with Asher. The difference is my brother flew through school barely reading more than the titles of his textbooks, whereas I spend all my free time studying.
“Doesn’t matter,” Asher says. “Emily won’t be listening to Cass. Not with Gideon in her bedroom.” He has a point. I unbuckle my seat belt and ease the door open. Asher whispers, “Wait. What am I looking for?”
“Something of Melody’s,” Gideon answers. “See if Seth’s car is unlocked. If not, dig through the trash.”
“You two are buying me ice cream for real after this.”
Gideon and I click the doors shut quietly, leaving Asher in the driver’s seat as we tiptoe down the dark street. There’s a chill in the night air, and I zip my hoodie up higher. When we reach the sidewalk, I whisper, “What are we going to do if Seth answers the door?”
“Ask for Emily, I guess.”
“Or we could just ask him if he took Melody,” I say wryly.
“Trust me, I would. But if he knows we’re on to him, he’ll be less likely to make a mistake.”
The porch lights are off as we approach the house, but there’s a black or gray Honda parked in the driveway. Gideon rings the doorbell, and my heart thumps. I feel like a criminal, skulking in the shadows, waiting for someone to open the door. Keep breathing. We’re just here for homework help.