He was quiet again, watching her. “Turn the page,” he said. She gave him a questioning look, and he nodded down at the manuscript, which she now had clutched in a death grip. Emerson slid the rubber band off the stack of pages. The cover came away in her hand. The next page had a single line of type on it.
For Emerson, the girl I never want to lose again.
“Logic keeps telling me to walk away.” Josh shook his head. “But the thing is, I’m really freaking sick of missing you, Em.”
Hope swelled higher, cresting in her chest. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that against all better judgment”—he reached out and took her hand—“I love you.”
The moment came at Emerson in flashes. The candles painting shadows across the ceiling. The snowflakes being born into the world, sparkling and new as they touched down outside. Josh’s hand warm against hers, and those three words, burning straight to her heart.
“I love you, too.” It felt different to say this time, knowing the words were returned. Like shadows materializing, stepping into the light.
She wrapped her hand behind his head and drew him to her, so close that his face became just peaks and valleys. And then there was no space between them at all. He laid her back on the couch, and his warmth enveloped her, shuttered out the storm.
It took her a minute to hear her phone. The ringing worked its way between them, until, finally, reluctantly, she pulled away. “I should get that.”
Away from Josh, the air was cold. Already the temperature in the house was dropping. “Is it your parents?” Josh asked. “I’m impressed you still have reception at all.”
Emerson extracted her phone from her purse. She didn’t recognize the number on the screen. Or, she realized, the phone’s background photo of a glittering, turquoise pool. “Crap,” she muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Josh asked from the couch.
“My friend Tenley and I must have accidentally swapped phones at lunch.” The unfamiliar number kept ringing. She pressed the phone to her ear. “Tenley’s phone,” she answered.
The phone crackled loudly. “Tenley?” The voice on the other end was fuzzy and a little distant. Reception cut out, then returned. “It’s Joe Bakersfield.”
“This is actually Emerson,” she replied, but a burst of static cut her off, and Joey didn’t seem to hear her.
“I hope it’s okay I got your number from Winslow’s phone book,” Joey continued. His voice was threaded through with static.
“I’m not—” Emerson tried again, but Joey was still talking.
“I thought you might want to hear this. Remember how you said that Calum helped out with some big senior prank when he went to Danford? Well, I asked around and there are no senior pranks here. Here’s the weird thing, though. Someone did put strawberry jelly in a showerhead two years ago, but not as part of some big, organized prank. It was just put in one showerhead—in this girl’s room who was like deathly allergic to strawberries. Jenny Hearst. She was hospitalized because of it.”
Emerson tensed. She didn’t want this feeling again. She was done digging. And this call wasn’t even for her! But the words formed in her mouth anyway. “Did they ever find out who did it?” From the couch, Josh gave her a curious look, and she held up a finger, indicating she needed a moment.
“No. I talked to my friend who works in the student-affairs office, and there’s no official record of it. But she checked the school roster for me, and this is where it gets kind of creepy. The shower incident happened at the end of May our sophomore year, and by the start of the next school year, Jenny had already transferred schools. Apparently, there was one other name that dropped off the roster around the same time. Calum Bauer. He started back at Winslow right around then, at the beginning of our junior year.”
Emerson sucked in a breath. The line crackled loudly. “Do you think…?”
“I don’t know what to think. It could just be a coincidence. But something feels off about the whole thing. Sydney seems pretty close to him, so…” He trailed off, and the blank envy in his voice made Emerson blink in surprise. Apparently, Joey Bakersfield had a thing for Sydney. “I just thought she should know.” The static grew stronger, almost drowning him out. “Her phone went straight to voice mail, though, so I tried you.”
“Thanks, Joey.” Emerson practically had to shout over the static, and she didn’t bother trying to clear up her identity again. Her mind was already skipping ahead to what this might mean. “I’ll make sure to tell Sydney.” A heavy feeling welled in her stomach as she ended the call.
“What was that?” Josh asked.
“Nothing—” Emerson began. She stopped short. She wanted so badly to ignore it, to just crawl back onto the couch and wrap her arms around Josh. But that heavy feeling was still there, traveling from her stomach to her chest. “Actually, I’m not sure.” She leaned against the kitchen counter and accessed the Internet on Tenley’s phone. “Come on,” she murmured, as it slowly loaded. Finally, a search bar opened on the screen.
Josh climbed off the couch and joined her at the counter. He looked over her shoulder as she typed Jenny Hearst, Danford into the search engine. “I’ll explain in a minute,” she said when Josh gave her a questioning look.
Several links popped up. One Jennifer Hearst was a doctor at Danford Medical in Louisiana. Another Jenny Hearst had won the Danford toddler pageant in Virginia. Halfway down the list, Emerson found a possible match. A Facebook page for a Jenny Hearst in Boston. She clicked on it. It took a full minute, but, finally, the page loaded.
Jenny Hearst’s profile picture was a shot of Fenway Park. Most of the page was blocked, but a few public items were listed under her information. Her hometown of Newton, Massachusetts, and two schools: Danford Academy and Haleworth Prep, another fancy boarding school.
“Bingo,” Emerson whispered. She knew Haleworth. Her freshman year at Winslow, a girl from her grade had transferred there. It was an all-girls school north of Boston, not far from Echo Bay. She quickly looked up the school number.
“Haleworth Prep,” a fuzzy voice answered a minute later. “How may I direct your call?” The connection faltered, then returned.
“Can I be transferred to Jenny Hearst’s room?” Emerson asked quickly.
“Transferring to 213. One moment please.” Staticky music filled the line, then abruptly cut out. A girl’s exasperated voice exploded through the phone. “Mom, I told you, I have enough flashlights and canned food to last me a year!”
“Uh, Jenny?” Emerson’s voice squeaked a little, and she quickly cleared her throat. “My name is Emerson.”
“Oh. Sorry.” A laugh cut across the phone line. “That’s embarrassing. I thought you were my mom calling for the twentieth time. Who did you say this is?”
“My name’s Emerson. We’ve never met, but I was hoping to ask you about Danford Academy.” The lie came out in one long stream. “I’m thinking of transferring there, and my friend gave me your name. I thought maybe you could tell me about your experience?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Who’s your friend?” Jenny asked finally.
“His name is Calum Bauer.” Emerson cringed at the lie. “He said you might—”
Click.
The line went dead.
Emerson looked down at her phone. It still seemed to be working. Maybe Haleworth had lost its phone lines? She quickly redialed the number. “Haleworth Prep,” the same fuzzy voice answered.
Emerson’s phone dropped away from her ear. If Haleworth’s phones still worked, then Jenny Hearst had just hung up on her. As soon as she mentioned Calum’s name.
She could feel the blood draining from her face. It could mean nothing at all.
Or it could mean something.
She dialed her own cell number, hoping Tenley would pick up, but after several rings, she got voice mail. She tried Sydney next, but her phone went straight to voice mail, and she remembered that Sydney’s cell was still in an evidence bag at the police station. She quickly looked up the Morgans’ landline number, but the call didn’t go through. It looked as if all regular phone lines were down.
She stared blindly at the phone screen. Something was off. She felt it deep down, the same way she’d known when her last dare was coming. A gut instinct that demanded she listen.
There could be a simple explanation. Maybe it really was just an innocent prank gone wrong. But wouldn’t someone have told Joey that? It was the shroud of mystery she kept returning to. No records… no public knowledge. It screamed suspicious. If they hadn’t already nailed Sam, it would also scream darer.
She grabbed her car keys. There was only one person who could answer her questions.
“Whoa.” Josh’s hand clamped down on hers. His fingers were warm against her skin. “Where are you going in this weather, Em?”
She looked up at him. His half Mohawk was even more rumpled now, and his nose was wrinkled up adorably with concern. She could lie, say she had to get home. But she was done with lying. “I have to get to Haleworth Prep before the roads close. It’s not a far drive, only about twenty minutes.” It was a crazy plan. She knew that. But after weeks of running from the darer, she was feeling crazy. Sometimes all that was left was to fight.