Tenley looked down. Memories were suddenly winging at her from every direction. It took all her strength to beat them back.
“Hey, sorry.” Tim reached out, touching her hand. “I didn’t mean to get you down.”
Tenley stared at his hand, resting on top of hers. The strangest feeling was zipping through her, hot and sharp, like a surge of electricity. She yanked her hand away, busying herself with reaching for her purse. “I’m fine,” she said. The distant sound of the warning bell rang out from inside Winslow, making her look up. A few final stragglers were rushing into school, leaving the parking lot empty.
“We should probably hurry,” Tim said. “If I get one more detention for being late, I think Mr. Sims might start calling me ‘son.’ ”
Tenley laughed weakly as she climbed out of the car. She couldn’t shake the sensation she’d had when he touched her hand. She hadn’t felt a connection like that since Guinness. And before that… she couldn’t even remember how long.
It doesn’t matter, she chided herself silently. Caitlin had been her best friend. Which meant Tim was squarely in the no-go zone. Besides, she was Tenley Mae Reed. She dated football players and bad boys. Not hemp-necklace-adorned surfers.
Overnight, the hallways of Winslow had been transformed into homecoming central. Voting took place at the game on Saturday, which meant it was the nominees’ final day to campaign. Everyone had gone all out. Marta had made glittery posters for Emerson, featuring her washing her face in a Neutrogena ad. LET EMERSON MAKE A SPLASH! the posters declared. Jessie had brought cookies with Tyler’s face on them, and Abby had set up an advice booth in the hallway, with the advice centering on “voting Delancey.”
There was a surprisingly large number of girls gathered around the booth. They were all talking frenziedly, one person calling out over another. Tenley stopped short. There was no way anyone could get that excited over advice—especially Abby’s. She inched closer, listening in on their conversation.
“Did you know she was hooking up with her gym teacher?” Sadie Miller asked breathlessly.
“Is Anaswan going to expel her?” Hope Chang chimed in.
“What about the contest?” one of Abby’s freshman Purity Club crones—Nina, something-or-other, the one who always wore her hair in braids—squealed. “Does this mean they’re disqualified?”
“How did this even happen?” a beak-nosed girl asked hungrily.
Tenley wrinkled her brow. What were they talking about?
“Hold on.” Abby held up a hand for silence. “If you all give me a second, I’ll tell you everything I know.” She looked around the group, clearly soaking up the moment. “Last night someone sent an anonymous e-mail to Anaswan’s entire Listserv—students and teachers—with a picture of Hannah Baker, Anaswan’s own Purity Club president, kissing the school’s gym teacher. It’s a horrible situation, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.”
She smiled primly, looking anything but horrified. “At this point it is still unknown who sent the e-mail. However, I e-mailed the vice president of the Massachusetts Purity Project as soon as I heard, and it does appear that, in light of Hannah’s behavior, Anaswan’s Purity Club will be disqualified from their annual competition.”
“Which means we’re a total shoo-in for winner!” Nina-braids shrieked. “Spa trip, here we come!”
Abby tossed her long brown hair, looking like a peacock ruffling her feathers. “It does seem that way, doesn’t it?” She kept her tone neutral, but she couldn’t disguise the joy in her eyes. She was eating this up.
Tenley took off for her locker. She couldn’t care less about Winslow’s Purity Club drama—let alone Anaswan’s. She had enough drama of her own.
After homeroom, she pulled the flyers she’d made last night out of her backpack, admiring her handiwork. They included side-by-side pictures of her and Hunter. Hers was from the last pageant she’d won. She was standing on the stage in her crown and sash, waving at the camera. Hunter’s had a similar feel. He was out on the lacrosse field, and he had last year’s MVP trophy hoisted above his head. She’d included a slogan on the bottom: VOTE FOR THE COUPLE WHO ALREADY KNOW HOW TO REIGN! She knew it was corny, but she also knew from experience that corny won votes.
Winning homecoming king and queen together would be the best way to help Hunter keep his secret under wraps. She’d hated seeing him so wrecked the other day. Tricia had clearly gotten to him, and if anyone knew how that felt, it was Tenley. But even as she hung up the posters, homecoming was the last thing on her mind. Instead, she kept thinking about her latest text messages. At least her mom was safe; she’d assured that when she’d bolted away from the police station yesterday. But that still left her own safety to worry about. She had less than forty-eight hours to catch this darer… or she might not live to see hour forty-nine.
Caitlin’s kidnapper had to be the answer. Sydney was still looking into Guinness, but deep in Tenley’s gut, she was sure: Find the kidnapper and it would lead her straight to the darer—Guinness or not.
She ticked off a mental list of facts in her head as she moved down the hallway. The kidnapper was a woman, probably twenty-six or older. Eight years ago, she’d had enough access to Winslow to steal Joey’s train out of their classroom. That narrowed her down to a few likely options. She either worked at Winslow, was a Winslow alum, or was related to a Winslow student.
It wasn’t a major lead, but it was all she had. She blindly tacked a poster to the first-floor bulletin board. It all led back to that toy train. It felt like some kind of crazy crossword puzzle: If she could solve that one mystery, everything else would fall into place. Which was why she planned to spend her free last period in the computer lab, doing some serious sleuthing.
But first she had a full day of school to get through. She sighed, staring at the display she’d absently arranged on the wall. Thanks to these posters, the whole school would think she and Hunter were a couple now. Last night that hadn’t bothered her at all. But out of nowhere a tiny worm of apprehension wiggled its way through her.
“Finally!” Marta let out a squeal as she approached Tenley. “It’s about time you and Hunter became official.” She grabbed a flyer out of Tenley’s hand, posting it for her. “Tell me how it happened!”
Tenley considered telling Marta it was just a campaign ruse, but an image of Hunter from Tuesday night flashed through her mind. He’d seemed so fragile, pleading with her to keep his secret. She couldn’t break his trust. “He asked me this week,” she lied. “With a dozen roses. Said he’d been trying to work up the courage forever.”
Marta tacked up several more posters. “I didn’t think Hunter had a romantic bone in his body,” she said with a laugh. “But it just goes to show, all it takes is the right girl.”
More like the right lie, Tenley thought. But she gave Marta her best girly swoon. “Guess so.”
The rest of the day passed in a blur. Tenley suffered through a math quiz and fake-smiled during a lunch-period debate over who would win king and queen the next night. But her thoughts were like a one-way road: All signs pointed to the darer. When would the psycho come for her next? Would it be at school? In her car? Another at-home attempt? The uncertainty was driving her crazy. By the time her free last period rolled around, she was one big ball of nerves.
She hurried over to the computer lab and took a seat in the back of the room. There was a girl she didn’t recognize a few rows up, a freshman or sophomore probably, but otherwise the room was empty. She opened a search engine. Steinhard limited edition circus train, she typed into the search field.
Several links popped up, including a Wikipedia entry and Steinhard’s company website. She went through them both, skimming over the content. Apparently, the train wasn’t just a collector’s item; it was part of an extremely limited run, 250 trains in all. Each of the trains from the run was marked with a number on its back wheel: 1 to 250.
“A number…” Tenley murmured. She grabbed her phone and opened up the photo she’d taken of Caitlin’s drawing. There it was—just as she’d remembered. Caitlin had written a number on its back wheel. 111.
Tenley drummed her fingers against the desk. She was suddenly bursting with energy. If she was able to find some of these trains online… maybe she could pinpoint the exact one that had been in the basement of Caitlin’s kidnapper: number 111. If there were only 250 to start out with… A dart of hope shot through her. It wasn’t likely, but it also wasn’t impossible.
She launched a new search, adding 111 and for sale this time. She knew it was a long shot, but maybe the person who stole Joey’s train had sold it at some point after Caitlin’s kidnapping. If she could find a record of a sale, she might be able to trace it back to its seller.…
Links to several pawnshops popped up on the screen, as well as a few eBay stores. She opened one at random. Perfect replica of a Steinhard Limited Edition Circus Train, the sale touted. The others were more of the same: newer models, near-perfect reproductions. No originals, and no number 111. She went back to the search field, switching for sale to estate sale, as Joey had suggested.