One of Us Is Next (21 page)

Phoebe

Thursday, March 26

The graffiti scrawled across the dividing wall next to the paper towel dispenser in the girls’ first-floor bathroom is brand-new, written in wavering blue ink.
Phoebe Lawton is a total…
Except I can’t read the last word, because somebody crossed it out with a black Sharpie. Thank you, unknown benefactor who is probably Maeve. Then again, no. She’d have covered the whole thing so I wouldn’t see my name.

My hands don’t even shake as I’m washing them. At this point, personalized graffiti in the bathroom is nothing. In the past few days I’ve gotten two more Instagram messages from Derek, cleaned up after my sister twice, and flunked a science test because I can’t concentrate in this hellhole. Plus Maeve keeps texting me screenshots of that forum she’s gotten obsessed with all over again, where somebody named Darkestmind constantly yells
WHERE ARE YOU BAYVIEW2020?
Like it’s some kind of Missed Connections board for freaky loners.

Me? I’m just relieved that school is over for the day, and I can forget about Bayview High for a few hours.

I’m pulling a paper towel from the dispenser when the door opens, and a second later Jules appears. “Oh, hi,” I say, flustered. I haven’t talked to Jules since I watched the video Luis took from Sean’s phone. I barely see her at school anymore, unless you count all the times I’ve skulked past her hallway makeout sessions with Sean.

“Heyyy,” Jules says, her eyes flicking toward the graffiti. She doesn’t look surprised. I’d love to think she’s the one who halfheartedly crossed it out, because at least that would mean she still cares a little bit about me. But it’s just as likely that she wrote it in the first place, considering how far up Sean’s ass she is now. She’ll even lie for him—something I’d never have believed possible if I hadn’t seen the video with my own eyes.

I toss my wet paper towel in the wastebasket. “How’s Sean?”

Her mouth purses as she pulls out a tube of lip gloss and unscrews the top. “Don’t pretend you care.”

Watching her outline a perfect pout makes me acutely aware of my own dry lips. I pull a tube of Burt’s Bees lip balm from my bag, grimacing when I realize it’s coconut flavored. My least favorite. I swipe it across my mouth anyway. “He must miss Brandon, though.”

Jules’s eyes go flat as they meet mine in the mirror. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

I shrug. “Nothing. I just feel bad for him.” Even to my own ears, the words sound fake. Sean hasn’t been acting like someone who lost his best friend. If anything, he’s swaggering around Bayview High more than ever.

Do you think there’s any possibility that somebody wanted Brandon to get hurt?

Knox asked that, and I brushed it off as too ridiculous to even consider. Still, Sean was standing right next to Brandon when he died, egging him on. Sean sounded shocked and terrified in that video, but let’s face it—he’s proved since then that he can play a part when he has to.

I gaze at my reflection in the mirror, and tug on my ponytail to tighten it. “Pretty scary to know it could have been any one of you, huh?” I ask.

“What?” Jules blinks at me, confused.

“Any one of you could have fallen through that landing. Since you were all going to take the same shortcut.”

Jules’s face is blank for a few seconds too long. She’s not a particularly good liar once you know to look for it. “Oh yeah,” she says finally.

“Just random chance that Brandon went first,” I add. I don’t know why I’m still talking, or what I’m hoping to get out of the conversation. Jules won’t confide in me. She picked her side a while ago. But there’s still part of me hoping to spot a crack in her armor, some sign that we could talk like we used to.

Hey, Jules, did you know that lying to the police could get you in trouble?

Don’t you think Brandon’s parents deserve to know what really happened?

Did you ever think your new boyfriend might be a sociopath?

“I don’t really like to talk about it.” Jules smacks her lips and drops the tube of gloss in her bag, then flips her hair over one shoulder and turns for the door. “I have to go. Sean and I have plans after school.”

“Me too,” I say. Her eyebrows shoot up. “I mean, I have plans too.”

Sort of. I’m working. But I’m bringing friends, so it counts.

Jules looks at me appraisingly. She knows my social options are pretty limited right now. “You and Knox?” she guesses. The disdain in her voice is clear enough that I know exactly what she’s implying.

I resist the urge to say
It’s not a date.
“And Maeve.”

Jules smirks and heads for the door, yanking it open. “Well,
that
sounds like a fun ménage à trois.”

I stomp after her, trying to marshal some kind of comeback, but as soon as she hits the hallway she’s engulfed in the octopus-like embrace of Sean Murdock. “Baby,” he growls, suctioning himself to her face. I skirt around them, my jaw clenched, suddenly wishing I’d tried to make the Nate thing happen while I had the chance.

Café Contigo is quiet for a Thursday, and by four o’clock most of the people in the restaurant are staff. Mrs. Santos, who’s making a rare appearance at the cash register, gestures me over when my only customer gets up to leave. Ahmed, the other waiter on duty, is leaning against the counter beside her, his eye on the table full of hip young Bayview moms sitting in his station with expensive strollers. They’re all wearing cute yoga clothes, their hair in carefully messy ponytails. The babies have been quiet since they arrived, but one of them has started to fuss.

“Hush, hush,” the baby’s mother says in a singsong voice, moving the stroller back and forth. “You’re okay, go back to sleep.” Ahmed looks wary, and I don’t blame him. I have five cousins under the age of three, and I know for a fact that as soon as one baby starts to cry the rest will join in solidarity.

“Why don’t you go ahead and clock out, Phoebe,” Mrs. Santos says. She’s tall and slender, with expressive dark eyes and elegant cheekbones. Luis gets his good looks from her. “Addy will be in at five, and Ahmed can handle the room until then.”

“Okay,” I say, starting to untie my apron.

Ahmed, still hovering beside Mrs. Santos with his eyes on the yoga mom table, asks, “Did you give Phoebe that thing, Mrs. S?” We both blink at him, and he clarifies, “The note?”

Mrs. Santos makes a
tsk
sound and shakes her head. “I completely forgot! My apologies, Phoebe. Ahmed said someone dropped this off for you earlier.” She roots under the counter and hands me a sealed envelope with my name scrawled across the front. “A young man. What did he say again, Ahmed?”

“That you were expecting it,” Ahmed says. The blondest yoga mom waves her hand to catch his attention, and he starts across the room toward her.

“Expecting what?” I ask, but he doesn’t hear me. I pull my apron off and stash it behind the counter, heading for the table where Knox, Maeve, and Luis are sitting. Luis is working, supposedly, but he’s been sitting and talking for the past hour. I could swear that every time I look over, his chair is a little closer to Maeve’s. She’s been looking especially pretty since she got her test results back, and today she’s wearing a fitted T-shirt with shimmery gold threading that brings out the honey color of her eyes. That unexpected clean bill of health has her practically glowing. Or maybe something else does.

I rip the envelope open as I walk, curious, and pull out a single sheet of paper. “Are you done for the day?” Maeve asks, but I only half hear her. My heart jumps into my throat as I read the words in front of me:

What the hell? “Ahmed!” I call. He’s striding toward the kitchen at a rapid clip but pauses at my urgent tone.

“What?”

I wave the note. “Who left this?”

“I told you. Some guy.”

“But
who
?”

“He didn’t give his name. Just—a guy. He’s been here before.”

“What’s going on?” Maeve asks. I hand her the note. Her eyes scan the page and she inhales sharply. “Whoa. Who is this from?”

“I don’t know,” I say helplessly. The only person I’ve been ignoring lately is Derek, and I never imagined that
actual
stalking was his style. But then again, other than the most ill-advised ten minutes of my life in Jules’s laundry room during her Christmas party, it’s not like I’ve spent quality time with the guy.

I wave frantically at Ahmed, who’s trying to escape into the kitchen again. “Ahmed, wait! Could you please come here for a second?”

Maeve reads the note out loud to Luis and Knox as Ahmed approaches. Suddenly we’re all talking at once, tripping over one another. Finally Maeve raises her voice above everyone else’s. “Hang on. The guy who left this, you said he’s been here before?” She tilts her head questioningly at Ahmed, who nods. “What did he look like?”

“I don’t know. Standard white dude.” Ahmed shrugs. “Little older than you guys, maybe. Brown hair. Pale. Kinda tall.”

That’s Derek, Derek, and Derek. Which puts my mind slightly at ease. At least Derek is a known quantity, sort of.

Knox’s eyes get wide. “That sounds like…was the guy intense-looking?” he asks.

Ahmed frowns. “I don’t know what that means.”

“You know—focused. Serious,” Knox says. “Like he’s got a one-track mind.”

One of the babies at the mom table starts flat-out wailing, and Ahmed tugs at his shirt collar. “Look, I have to put in their order, okay? Be back in a minute.”

He hurries away and I turn to Knox, confused. “Why are you asking that?”

“Because that description Ahmed just gave reminds me of someone I’ve seen here before.” Knox turns to Maeve and taps her arm. “You remember that guy who came in a while back? The one who was a dick to Mr. Santos and kept asking about Phoebe? The one Luis and Manny chased off?”

“I’m sorry,
what?
” I burst out. “When did this happen?”

“I remember,” Luis says. “It was a few weeks ago, wasn’t it?” He leans back in his chair, arms folded, and Maeve sneaks a glance at him with color rising in her cheeks. She looks like she just completely lost track of the conversation. I’m tempted to snap my fingers in her face and remind her that she’s supposed to be worrying about
me
right now, not staring at Luis’s admittedly nice biceps. Priorities.

“Yeah. I didn’t think much of it at the time,” Knox says, looking apologetic. “I thought it was just some jerk, but he came back a couple nights ago. Here, I mean. Ordered a coffee, sat around, then left without drinking it. I started wondering if it was maybe Derek, trying to find you because you’re ignoring his messages.”

I glare at him, hands on my hips. “Why are you just telling me this now?”

“I haven’t been thinking straight,” Knox says defensively. “I have a concussion.”

“You
had
a concussion. Two weeks ago.”

“The effects can linger for years,” Knox informs me. He drums his fingers on the table. “Besides, I wasn’t sure it meant anything. But do you think it might be him? Is Derek a tall, pale, brown-haired guy?”

“Yeah, he is.” I say. “I personally wouldn’t describe him as intense-looking, but to each their own, I guess.” Maeve hands the note back to me, and I stuff it into my pocket, my mind spinning. Would Derek really do this—show up at my job and leave a threatening note just because I’ve been ignoring his Instagram messages? He never acted aggressive or possessive around Emma. As far as I know, anyway.

“Who’s Derek?” Luis asks.

All I can think is
thank God he’s out of the gossip loop.
It gives me hope that there’s life after Bayview High that doesn’t include ongoing, detailed analysis of everybody’s worst mistakes. “Long story,” I say, “but he’s someone I’ve been blowing off lately.”

“Do you have a picture of him?” Luis asks. “We all saw the guy. We could tell you whether it’s him or not.”

“Great idea. Why didn’t I think of that?” Maeve asks. Luis smiles, and she gives him another lingering look that, in my opinion, answers the question.

“No,” I say. “I mean, I can look him up right now but he never posts pictures of himself…” I take out my phone, open Instagram, and pull up Derek’s profile to see if he’s updated it recently. His entire feed is still nothing but animals, food, and artsy pictures of tree branches. I show it to Knox, who makes a face.

“No selfies? What kind of weirdo is he?” Then he glances at the clock on the wall, which Mr. Santos finally fixed. “Callahan Park is in Eastland, right? We could make it there before five thirty if we leave now.”

“I’m not meeting him!” I protest, but Knox holds up a placating hand.

“I don’t mean that. But maybe we can, like, spy on him. See if it’s Derek. Then you can report him for harassment or something.” He pulls out his wallet and removes a few bills, putting them on top of the twenty that’s already on the table. “We could go to my house first and grab my binoculars so we don’t have to get close.”

“Binoculars?” I’m almost distracted for a second. “What do you have those for?”

Knox looks mildly baffled. “Doesn’t everybody have binoculars?”

“No,” Maeve and I say at the same time.

Luis’s brow furrows. “You think that’s a good idea? This guy is practically stalking you, Phoebe. Maybe you should tell the police, let them handle it.”

“But I don’t know for sure if Derek wrote the note,” I say. “His Instagram messages were a lot more polite.” I turn to Maeve. “Can you drive us?”

She twists her dark hair over one shoulder and nods. “Yeah, of course.”

“I’ll come with you,” Luis says instantly. “It’s quiet here, I can leave.”

“Okay,” I say, trying not to sound as relieved as I feel. I love Knox and Maeve, but they’re not exactly my first picks as backup if anything goes wrong. Whoever this guy is, Luis scared him off once, and I’m pretty sure he can do it again. “It’s a plan, then. Let’s do a little stalking of our own.”

Maeve

Thursday, March 26

“This is pointless,” Phoebe grumbles. “I can’t see anything.”

We were over half an hour late to Callahan Park, thanks to rush hour traffic, but as soon as we pulled into a metered spot in front of the fence we spotted a lone figure sitting on the gazebo steps. It’s directly within our line of sight, but too far away to see anything clearly, even with Knox’s binoculars at full strength. Phoebe’s been fiddling with them for almost five minutes, but she still can’t make out who it is.

I turn to face her in the backseat. “Do you want to leave?”

She shakes her head vehemently. “No way. We’ve come this far, and he’s right there. I just need to get a little closer.” She peers through the window. “Hmm. Check out the climbing structure on the playground. There’s a little house on top that would be perfect. If I go in there, I could see a lot better.”

Luis frowns. “We said you’d stay in the car.”

“Look at the path to the playground, though. It has those tall bushes. He’ll never see me coming,” Phoebe insists. “Plus the play area is nice and crowded. I can get up there all stealthy-like.” She pokes Knox in the arm. “Can I have your sweatshirt?”

“Um, okay.” He removes it with a bemused expression and hands it over. Phoebe pulls the faded gray hoodie over her pink shirt and zips it up.

“This smells nice,” she says. “Did you just wash it?”

“No.” Knox looks guilty. “Not for a while, actually. Sorry.”

“Oh.” Phoebe shrugs. “Well, you smell nice, then.” She lifts the hood over her head and stuffs her bright curls beneath it. “There. Incognito. And I’m short, so I can pass for a kid.”

Luis is still frowning. “I’ll go with you,” he says, but Phoebe shakes her head.

“He’s seen you before, and you stick out too much. I’ll take Knox.”

“Sure, why not,” Knox mutters. “I am utterly unobtrusive, after all.”

I bite my lip and glance at the gazebo. The boy is pacing now, circling the small structure. “I don’t know, Phoebe. Whoever this guy is, he’s starting to freak me out. Maybe we should just leave.”

“Not without getting a look at him,” she says doggedly. “I need to know if it’s Derek.” She pops the door open and tugs at Knox’s sleeve. “Are you coming or what?”

“Obviously I am.” Knox sighs and turns to me. “Text us if he makes a move, okay?”

“He won’t. He’ll never see us coming,” Phoebe says confidently. I think she’s probably right, but my stomach still twists as she and Knox get out of the car. I lose sight of them almost immediately on the woodsy path, then catch a glimpse of them weaving through the playground.

“This is fucked up,” Luis mutters in the passenger seat beside me. “Is this what it was like last year when you and Bronwyn were following Simon’s trail?”

“Not really,” I say. “I only ever did online stuff. Bronwyn staked out a guy once, but he was harmless. He ended up helping us out, actually.” I jump at my phone vibrating with a text and look down at it. It’s from Knox.
We’re here.
“They made it,” I report, and text back,
Is it Derek?

She hasn’t looked yet. A lens popped out of my binoculars so we’re putting it back.

“They’re having technical difficulties with the binoculars,” I tell Luis.

He flashes a smile. “Equipment failure. Always happens at the worst possible time.”

I nod and think about making a joke back, except I’m suddenly hyperaware of the fact that I’m alone with Luis for the first time since I yelled at him at Cooper’s game. We’ve texted back and forth since then, and he accepted my apology. But I haven’t said any of the things that I really want to say. Just like always.

“So,” I blurt out, right as he says, “Listen,” and then we both pause. “You first,” we say at the same time. Luis laughs a little, and I smile awkwardly. Then I gather up my courage and say, “No, you know what? Me first. If that’s okay.” Because if he says something I don’t want to hear, then I won’t tell him
my
thing. And even though my heart is practically pounding out of my chest at the thought of being fully honest with him, I still want him to know.

His eyes lock on mine, his expression unreadable. “Okay.”

Deep breath. “I wanted to talk about what I said at Cooper’s game…” I trail off and swallow, trying to loosen my throat so I can get the rest of the words out. But I’ve already started wrong, because Luis shakes his head.

“I told you, forget about that.” He brushes my arm with his hand, his fingers lightly tracing the edge of a fading bruise. “I get it. You were in a bad place.”

“It’s not that. I mean yes, I was, but that’s not the only reason I was rude.” His hand stills but stays where it is. The heat from his skin radiating into mine is making it hard to think, but I don’t want to pull away. I just need to get a couple more sentences out. “I was, um, jealous.” I can’t look at him right now, so I stare straight ahead at my car’s control panel. “I saw you with Monica, and I got jealous because it looked like you were on a date and I—I wanted that to be me. Because I like you, Luis. I have for a while.”

There. I said it.

I inhale quickly, still not looking at him, and add in a rush, “It’s totally fine if you don’t feel the same way, because we can still be friends and I won’t be weird about it—”

“Whoa, hold up,” Luis interrupts. “Can I answer before you answer for me?”

“Oh.” My face flames, and I stare so hard at the dash that I’m surprised the numbers on my odometer don’t move. “Yes. Of course. Sorry.”

Luis’s hand moves down my arm until his fingers lace with mine, and he tugs lightly at my hand. “Look at me, okay?” he says quietly. I turn my head, and there’s such a soft, open expression on his face that I feel a spark of hope. “I like you too, Maeve,” he says, his dark eyes steady on mine. “I have for a while.”

My heart skips and then soars. “Oh,” I say again. I’ve forgotten all the other words.

His lips quirk. “So, should we do something about this? Or would you rather keep torturing me from a distance?”

My smile back feels big enough to take over my entire face. “We should,” I manage. “Do something.”

“Good,” Luis says. He touches my face and leans in close. My eyes flutter shut and warmth floods my veins as I wait for his lips to meet mine—until my lap buzzes loudly. We both startle and pull back. “Damn it all to hell,” I mutter in frustration, snatching up my phone. “I forgot we were on a stakeout.”

Luis laughs. “Never a dull moment with you. What’s up?”

I read Knox’s text, blink a few times, and read it again. “Phoebe says it’s not Derek.”

“Really?” Luis sounds as surprised as I feel. “Then who is it?”

“She doesn’t know. She says she’s never seen him before.”

Luis frowns. “That’s weird.”

My phone buzzes with another text from Knox.
He’s leaving.

“Oh!” I grab Luis’s arm. The figure we’d been watching at the gazebo is suddenly a lot closer. “That’s him.” Intense Guy is cutting across the grass and through the edge of the playground, but he doesn’t spare a glance for the climbing structure where Phoebe is. He pushes past a group of kids and heads for the park exit. At this distance, there’s no mistaking the same person who confronted Mr. Santos a few weeks back. There are two paths he could take out of the park, and he chooses the one leading almost straight to my car.

“Shit. He’s coming right this way,” I say, looking down to shield my face. The guy barely flicked his eyes over me at Café Contigo, but better safe than sorry. “Duck, Luis.” Instead, Luis does exactly what he shouldn’t do, which is lean forward for a better view. “Stop!” I hiss. “Don’t let him see you, he’ll recognize you!”

“So?” Luis says. Honest to God, he might be the hottest guy I’ve ever seen, but he’s useless in a stakeout situation. I try to push him back, but he’s still craning his neck and Intense Guy is
right there,
about to cross in front of the car, so I have no choice except to grab hold of Luis’s face and kiss him.

I mean, I probably have other choices. But this is the best one.

I’m twisted awkwardly, held back by my seat belt until Luis reaches around me and unbuckles it. I break our kiss to slide out from behind the wheel. He pulls me closer, lifting me into his lap, and I return my hands to either side of his face. His arms feel warm and solid around me, holding me in place as we stare into each other’s eyes for a beat. “Beautiful,” he breathes, and I melt. Then his lips crash against mine, and it’s happening again—the heat, the dizziness, and the desperate need to be as close to him as possible. His thumbs sweep over my cheeks, my fingers are twisted in his hair, and the kiss goes on and on until I’ve completely forgotten where we are and what we’re supposed to be doing.

Right up until the loud rap on the window.

Oh God. It all comes rushing back as I look up, expecting to see Intense Guy glowering down at us. Instead, Phoebe cocks her head and waves, smiling brightly. Knox is still a few yards behind her, head down as he stuffs his binoculars into their case. She turns and positions herself in front of the window, her back to us.

I have no memory of this happening, but at some point either Luis or I reclined the seat so that we’re practically flat. “Um. So.” I reach across Luis’s lap for the button, and can’t keep from laughing as the seat starts slowly rising while we’re still tangled up together. “This is the recline function,” I say, smoothing my hair.

“Good to know.” Luis kisses my neck, his palm warm against my waist. “Thanks for the demonstration.”

“No problem. I do this for everybody. It’s important to know how a vehicle operates.” Reluctantly, I slide off Luis’s lap and behind the wheel. Then I squeeze his hand, feeling giddy that apparently I can do that now. “To be continued?”

He smiles and squeezes back. “Definitely.”

“Well!” Phoebe opens the rear door and crawls across the seat. The hood of Knox’s sweatshirt is still up, the laces pulled tight around her face. Knox follows and closes the door behind him. He seems preoccupied with his binoculars. I’m pretty sure Phoebe ran interference quickly enough that he didn’t see anything with Luis and me. “I have officially never seen that guy before in my life. I have absolutely no idea who he is.”

“So now what?” I ask. “Should we—”

“Shit, here he comes!” Knox pulls Phoebe toward him, pressing her into his shoulder as she lets out a strangled yelp. I duck down automatically in my seat, but Luis—of course—stays where he is. He really is terrible at this. “Sorry,” Knox says in a calmer voice as he releases Phoebe. “But he just drove past us. Don’t worry, he didn’t look our way.”

Phoebe leans forward and peers between the front seats. “The blue car?” she asks. When Knox grunts in agreement, she taps my shoulder. “Follow him. Let’s see what this weirdo does when he isn’t stalking girls he’s never met.”