Truth or Dare (40 page)

Long time no
—the text message began, but Emerson yanked it out of Tenley’s sight. “Everything’s fine,” she said quickly, dropping her phone back into her purse. She waved them toward the carousel. “Now go take your ride, so I can retire from this carousel in peace.”

Tenley quickly forgot about the text as she pulled Caitlin toward the carousel. “Get ready for a blast from the past,” she told her.

For the first time all day, Caitlin seemed to brighten. “The gold dolphin is mine!” she announced. They raced on, claiming their old spots.

“Hello, Blue Whale!” Tenley said, patting the head of the whale that used to be her favorite. She couldn’t believe how run-down it was: made of old, warped plastic, its blue paint peeling in spots. In her memory, the whale was huge and majestic and lifelike, as close as you could get to riding on the real thing. It was strange how that happened; things were never exactly as you remembered them.

But as they began to spin, Tenley’s hair flying out behind her, the old, rickety carousel seemed to fade away and for a second she felt like that little girl again—the one whose best friend was always at her side, just one fish over. She reached out automatically, clasping hands with Caitlin.

Monday, 11:47
AM

… AND IN THAT WAY, THE LOCAL ECHO BAY GOVERNMENT
chose to handle what effectively was a myth as a crisis situation,” Mr. Haskin said, pacing across the front of the government classroom. Caitlin looked down at the notebook spread open on her desk. Mr. Haskin had just spent the last forty minutes talking about the Echo Bay government’s strategy surrounding the Lost Girls myth, which had done nothing at all to help her nerves.

She drummed her fingers on her leg, trying hard not to fidget. Thanks to the cappuccino she’d had during her last free period—her third caffeine boost of the morning—her heart was zooming as if it were out on a racetrack. She should have known better. But she’d felt as though she was running on empty all morning, and the cappuccino machine in the senior lounge had been too tempting to resist.

“Don’t forget, we’ll have a quiz on all this on Friday,” Mr. Haskin concluded just as the bell rang. Caitlin made a note in her assignment book before gathering up her stuff. “And let’s all wish Caitlin and Abby
good luck next period when the result of the election is announced!” Mr. Haskin added cheerfully. “I’ll be thinking good thoughts, girls.”

“Thanks,” Caitlin murmured, as Abby chimed in with a much louder “That’s so sweet!” Avoiding eye contact with Abby, Caitlin headed into the hall, smiling absently at several classmates wishing her luck.

“Hey you,” Marta said, falling into step with her, her ever-present smile securely in place. “How does it feel to be our next student-body president?”

“It feels like nothing,” Caitlin replied. “Since I haven’t won yet.”

Marta waved a hand dismissively through the air. “Details, details. You’re obviously going to. Can you imagine Harris Newsby as our president?” She burst out laughing, as bubbly and infectious as ever, and Caitlin had to smile in spite of herself. “We’d all be forced into AP classes against our will!”

“And teachers would probably be required to give
more
tests,” Caitlin couldn’t resist adding.

“We’d be living the dream,” Marta said, giggling. “So, you coming to lunch to hear your soon-to-be-announced victory?”

“In a few,” Caitlin told her. “I just want to make a stop first.”

“Well, hurry,” Marta said, giving her a mysterious look.

Caitlin raised her eyebrows. “Is there something I should know, Marta?”

“Of course not,” Marta said, acting overly surprised. “I just want to have lunch with my good friend–slash–soon-to-be president.” With another mysterious look, she took off toward the cafeteria. “Don’t forget to hurry,” she called out over her shoulder.

Caitlin nodded, but when Marta was out of sight, she went into the bathroom, slipping into one of the stalls. Clearly her friends had
something up their sleeves. The thought made her caffeine-riddled heart speed up. The last thing Caitlin wanted right now was a big hoopla—especially when she didn’t win. She didn’t care what Marta said; between the photos and her flubbed campaign speech, she knew her chances for a win were shot.

She counted to ten as she breathed in and out, leaning against the tiled bathroom wall. She’d barely slept at all last night. Thoughts of Joey had kept her tossing and turning for hours, even after she’d triple-checked that all the curtains were drawn and her windows were fastened shut.

When she’d finally fallen asleep, she’d had the nightmare from Saturday again. She was standing in the red basement, staring at the circus train as that beautiful, haunting song filled the air around her. Slowly, she’d turned around. And there was the woman. She was looking at Caitlin with the strangest expression in her eyes as she sang, and Caitlin had been swept up in a storm of emotions: fear and anger and sorrow and also, somehow, a twinge of comfort.

The woman had stepped closer, so close that Caitlin could feel the
whoosh
of her breath as she belted out the lyrics. So close that she could see the small sapphire ring on her finger as she reached out for Caitlin. Caitlin had screamed herself awake before the woman’s hand could touch her. For the rest of the night, she’d lain in her bed, hearing the song in her head again and again.

Caitlin couldn’t place that song. She couldn’t place that woman. But somehow, they were both connected to her kidnapping. She was sure of it. She just wasn’t sure
how
. But she would be, she promised herself. After school today, she and Tenley were going to the cops about Joey, and then things could finally go back to normal. As soon as she had her life back, she would figure it out.

The final bell rang, announcing the start to lunch. Caitlin reluctantly opened her eyes. Soon, the new student-body president would be announced over the loudspeaker, and Caitlin would have to put on a happy face while Abby Wilkins’s name was called out. The thought made blades of pain slice at her temples, and she reached into her bag, fumbling around for her pill bottle.

She wished she didn’t care, that she could just brush it off the way Harris Newsby did every time. But she couldn’t. Because when she pushed it all away—her mom and Theresa and Harvard and all those expectations, piled one on top of another—the truth was that she still wanted it. She
wanted
to be president. She wanted to change things. She wanted to make a difference. And now, because of the darer, she wouldn’t get to. She tossed back a pill, swallowing it dry. This was one lunch she was going to need prescription help to get through.

Caitlin took her time walking to the cafeteria, stopping by her locker and reading the announcements on the bulletin board to give the pill a chance to kick in. She had just started to feel it—an inkling of calm, working its way through her muscles—when a sandy-haired figure caught her eye up ahead.
Joey
.

He was walking in her direction, his arms wrapped protectively around his green notebook. And he was staring right at her. She tried to look anywhere else—the floor, the lockers, the ceiling—but still she could feel his eyes boring into her. And suddenly she couldn’t take it anymore. She was sick of being watched, of being
seen
. She’d had enough.

She marched over to Joey, her heart racing faster than ever in spite of the pill she’d just taken. His dark eyes widened as she stopped only inches in front of him. The hallway was empty except for them, and for a second she felt a flash of terror. But she pushed it away, refusing to let it stop her.

“I know what you’ve been doing,” she choked out, her voice so high
and desperate it barely sounded like her own. “We all know. And we’re going to do whatever it takes to make you stop.”

Joey tightened his grip around his green notebook, pressing it to his chest. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” he whispered.

Anger gripped Caitlin, erasing any last traces of fear. “If you really believe that,” she spat out, “then something’s very wrong with you.”

Joey blinked. “I—I—” he stammered. He had the strangest look in his eyes, almost as if he was
hurt
, that puppy-dog act all over again. “I—” he tried again. But he shook his head, unable to finish. Making a strangled noise, he pushed past her, his shoulder knocking into hers, sending her stumbling into a row of lockers.

“Hey!” she called out as she grabbed for a locker handle to keep from falling. But he ignored her, and then he turned the corner and was gone.

Caitlin felt chilled as she stared at the spot where he’d disappeared. What had he been trying to tell her? For a second she felt a flicker of doubt. That look in his eyes… It wasn’t cruelty. It was fear.

But he
was
the darer. He must be. She pressed her palm against the cool metal of the locker. It didn’t matter what he looked like, she reminded herself. Crazy could come in all shapes and sizes.

She reached into her bag, her fingers closing around her pill bottle. Suddenly one pill didn’t feel like enough. Looking furtively around to make sure no one was watching, she swallowed a second one down. Then, counting silently to ten, she headed to the cafeteria.

A few minutes later she found herself staring at a who’s who of artery cloggers in the cafeteria’s food bar. “My personal favorite is the fried meatball pizza grinder,” a friendly voice said from behind her. Caitlin turned around to find Tim with a brown-bag lunch in his hand.

When Tim had shown up at Tenley’s party Saturday night to find
that Caitlin had left, Emerson had told him that Cait wasn’t feeling well. He must have caught a glimpse of the photo, though, because he’d texted Cait later, telling her not to worry about it; things like that blew over faster than a summer storm. Still, Caitlin had dreaded calling him. How could he not judge her on that photo? Everyone else was. But when she’d finally gathered up the nerve to call him last night, she’d been so relieved to find that he really wasn’t mad—at least not at her. He’d just kept asking who would do something that horrible to her. Which, of course, was the one question Caitlin couldn’t answer.

“It’s not enough to put meatballs and pizza together,” Tim continued. “
Clearly
it needed to be fried, too.”

Caitlin smiled. Just seeing him suddenly made the whole thing with Joey feel like a distant memory. “It’s like asking for a heart attack,” she agreed. She eyed his homemade lunch with envy. With everything going on, she’d forgotten to pack hers this morning. “You were smart to bring your own rations.”

“Avocado, banana, and peanut-butter sandwich,” Tim told her proudly. “With some alfalfa sprouts on top. My own creation.”

Caitlin laughed. “You know that sounds disgusting, right?”

“More disgusting than a fried meatball pizza grinder?”

Caitlin shook her head in dismay. “Hasn’t anyone around here heard of a salad?”

“They will have once you’re done with this place, Miss Presidentto-be. Cafeteria extreme makeover, right?”

“I would have to win for that to happen.” Caitlin looked down. All of a sudden, she felt a little faint. She could feel the second pill starting to kick in, making her muscles all loose and wiggly. The room felt as if it were swaying slightly under her feet, and she put a hand on the food bar to steady herself.

“You okay?” Tim asked, looking concerned.

“I’m fine,” Caitlin said quickly. But as she said it, the ground swayed again, and she could feel her face paling as she gripped the food bar more tightly. Dr. Filstone had told her she could take two pills if she really needed it, but she’d never actually tried it before. As her legs started to turn heavy and sluggish, she wondered if maybe it hadn’t been the best idea.

Tim stepped closer, touching her arm. “You don’t look so okay, Cait.”

“I’m just tired,” Caitlin lied. “I’ll feel better once I eat.”

“If you say so—” Tim began. But he was cut off by Emerson, who had climbed onto her chair to shout across the cafeteria.

“Get your butt over here already, Angel!” she called out, waving to Caitlin.

Tim glanced over his shoulder. “Well, I don’t think you have to worry about eating fried meatballs for lunch,” he said, laughing. “Looks like your fan club took care of that for you.”

The cafeteria seemed to spin as Caitlin squinted her eyes, trying to focus on their table. Everyone was there: Emerson, Tenley, Marta, Tricia, Nate, Tyler, Sean, even Hunter. Marta and Tenley were holding a huge sign that said
YOU’LL ALWAYS BE OUR ANGEL
, and covering the table was a whole spread from Pat-a-Pancake.

Caitlin blinked, feeling tears rise to her eyes. She couldn’t believe they’d done that for her. It made her feel as though, president or not, she was still the one winning. She smiled shakily, gesturing to Emerson that she’d be right there. But as she started to walk toward the table, the loudspeaker crackled to life.

“Good afternoon, students of Winslow Academy,” Ms. Howard said cheerfully. “I’m happy to announce that the results of the election for student-body president are officially in!”

It was happening. The room spun even faster and Caitlin grabbed Tim’s arm, squeezing tightly.

“Congratulations,” the principal went on, “to Caitlin Thomas, our new student-body president!”

“
What?
” Caitlin whispered. Her head felt foggy all of a sudden. As if from a distance, she could hear people cheering and clapping, Tim saying he knew it all along. She tried to respond, to move, but her limbs felt heavy, paralyzed. The world became edged in darkness, as though someone had drawn over it with a marker.

The floor dipped beneath her feet. “Caitlin?” a muffled voice said. The edges were closing in on her, darkness everywhere. There was a sharp sound—a scream?—and then just like that, there was silence, and she went dark, too.