Down the hall, she heard a door slam shut. She bolted out of the room, clutching the purse to her chest. Emerson and Sydney were standing outside the supply closet with the key jammed into the door’s keyhole. Sydney yanked it out and tested the handle. Locked.
“Hey!” Abby’s scream ricocheted through the closet. “What’s going on? Who screamed? Delancey?” She pounded angrily against the door. “Let me out!”
Tenley pressed a finger to her lips. The less Darer Abby knew about their involvement with this, the better. At least until she was locked up behind bars. Then Tenley planned to rub it right in her face. No one messed with Tenley Reed and got away with it.
They padded quietly down the hallway, Abby’s screams growing fainter behind them. Tenley’s smile widened. The supply closet was as far from the cafeteria as you could get: two floors up and at the other end of the school. Abby could scream and bang the door all she wanted. No one was going to hear her.
They remained silent until they were back on the first floor. Tenley led the way into an empty classroom. Finally, she let out a cheer. “We did it!” She hoisted Abby’s purse excitedly into the air. “We really did it!”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.” Sydney snatched the purse out of Tenley’s hand and extracted Abby’s phone. “First, we need to find our proof.” They huddled together as Sydney turned on Abby’s phone. “No password,” she said, sounding surprised. They’d come prepared with a list of numbers to try if she had one: birthdays, addresses, her parents’ anniversary. “Well, that makes this easier.” Sydney opened up Abby’s texts. “Here we go.…” she murmured.
Tenley leaned in over her shoulder. There was message after message to Delancey, along with the usual check-in messages to Abby’s parents, a few messages about homework, and a whole slew announcing Purity Club meetings, and… that was it.
“No.” Tenley took a staggering step backward. “It’s not possible. There have to be dares!”
Sydney shook her head as she scrolled through Abby’s e-mails. “Nothing,” she said miserably. “She hasn’t permanently deleted her trash mail in forever, and there’s nothing even in there.” She pushed her bangs off her forehead. “Either she was meticulous about just permanently deleting her dare messages, or she has a whole other phone hidden somewhere else.”
“A darer phone,” Tenley breathed. “Of course. This one must be her cover! That would explain the no password.”
Emerson let out a choked cry. “This isn’t happening. This is supposed to be over. We’re supposed to have proof!”
“Don’t panic,” Tenley told her quickly. “We can fix this.” She snapped her fingers as an idea struck her. “Delancey! She’s our answer. If Abby has another phone, I bet you anything her best purity pal has seen it at some point. We just have to keep up a normal homecoming act until we find her. Then we can get her to tell us where it is.”
Emerson collapsed into a desk chair, looking stunned. “Normal?” she mumbled.
Tenley’s heart squeezed. She thought of Emerson’s duckling, lying lifeless in his cage. “You can do this, Em.” She crouched down in front of her. “We’re going to help you through it.” She glanced pleadingly at Sydney. “Right, Syd?”
Sydney cleared her throat as she joined them. “Right,” she said slowly. “You’re not alone in this, Emerson.”
Emerson looked up. There were tears in her eyes and frown lines around her mouth. But ever so slowly, she pushed herself out of the chair. “Okay,” she said. “Let’s end this.” Emerson took Abby’s phone and opened up a text to Molly Berg, the student-body vice president. Running late!! Hold down court for me? She smiled weakly. “That will buy us some time.”
Tenley nodded in satisfaction as Emerson pressed send. Turning on her heels, she led the way into the cafeteria. The room was almost unrecognizable, turned into a “Pirate’s Ship” for the dance’s theme. The tables had been removed, replaced by a silver dance floor. On the raised platform where Tenley and her friends usually sat, a band was set up, playing a cover of a classic Rolling Stones song. The cafeteria walls had been covered in a wraparound mural of the ocean, which was peppered with brightly painted fish. Scattered around the outskirts of the dance floor were antique wooden trunks with fake jewelry and coins spilling out of them. Even the hot-food line had been transformed: covered in a filmy silver cloth and lined with glittery bowls of punch and gilded platters of cookies.
Tenley’s eyes darted around the room. “I don’t see Delancey.”
Sydney tugged at her dress. “She has to show up eventually. If she wants to get her hard-earned crown.” She shot an almost-sympathetic look at Emerson. “We just have to hold on a little longer until she does.”
Up on stage, Molly Berg took the mic. She was a mousy-looking girl with frizzy hair and a barely audible voice. “Hello?” she squeaked into the mic. “Welcome to the dance?” Her voice went up at the end of each sentence, making everything she said sound like a question.
“What?” someone yelled from the dance floor.
“A little louder, Molly,” Miss Hilbrook called out.
Molly cleared her throat, making a loud burst of static ring through the room. “Abby Wilkins seems to be running late?” she squeaked, her voice only slightly louder this time. “So as student-body vice president, I want to welcome you all to the dance?” She squeezed the mic between her palms, looking anything but thrilled to be up on stage. “Have fun tonight? And if there are any problems, find me or one of the chaperones?” As she went on to profusely thank the chaperones, Tenley turned to the others.
“Sydney’s right,” she said quietly. “Until we find Delancey, we’re just three happy-go-lucky girls, hoping to be crowned homecoming queen. If we act like nothing’s wrong, no one will suspect what we did to Abby.”
Sydney nodded in agreement. After a beat, Emerson followed suit.
“Here goes nothing,” Tenley murmured. Plastering on her happiest smile, she waved to their friends on the other side of the room. They were clearly having a blast. Marta had several strands of gemstones from one of the trunks wrapped around her neck, and Nate was swatting at them like a cat. Tyler had his arm around Jessie, who looked peppier than ever in a bubblegum-pink dress. Next to them, Hunter and Sean were grinning as they watched several members of Winslow’s hip-hop club shake it on the dance floor as the music started up again onstage. When Hunter noticed Tenley, he lifted his hand in a return wave.
“There’s my elusive date,” he yelled. Tenley forced a laugh. When she’d told Hunter she wanted to meet him at the dance instead of arriving together, he’d joked that she better not stand him up.
“All gussied up just for you,” she quipped when he joined them. She did a little spin to show off her dress’s low-cut back. It allowed her to take another quick scan of the room. It was continuing to fill up with familiar Winslow faces, but she still didn’t see Delancey anywhere. She caught Sydney’s eye. She was clearly thinking the same thing.
“I see my date,” Sydney said. She gave Tenley and Emerson a meaningful look. “Find me if you see you-know-who,” she added under her breath. Then she took off, looking relieved to be away from Tenley’s friends. Over by the food bar, Calum Bauer broke into a huge grin, waving her over.
“So the loner and the loser are an item now?” Hunter commented.
Tenley was surprised to feel a stab of anger at hearing Sydney called a loser. “They’re friends,” she said sharply. She couldn’t imagine it was anything more than that. She was pretty sure Sydney wasn’t over Guinness, and she doubted computer-geek Calum would be her rebound of choice if she was. Though she did have to admit… with his blond curls actually semitamed and his perfectly fitted gray suit, he might almost look hot tonight. If he weren’t Calum.
“Ahoy, mateys!” Marta teetered over to them in sky-high heels, her jungle-green dress flouncing behind her. “Em, I’m in need of some serious ER in the BR. My hair’s coming out of its bun!” She gestured to the elaborate updo that swept her red waves off her face. A single rebellious strand had slipped out of its hold. “I need your magic hair skills, pronto.” Before Emerson could respond, Marta grabbed her hand and dragged her off to the bathroom.
As Marta and Emerson disappeared from the cafeteria, the music abruptly cut out. Up on stage, the band’s lead singer tapped the microphone. “Attention!” he called out. Slowly, the chatter died down, and everyone swiveled around to face the stage.
“Happy Homecoming, Winslow Academy!” the singer announced. He was in his twenties and had a swagger to him that made Tenley think he liked playing high school dances a little more than he should. “I’m Avery, and this is gonna be a fun night. We’re going to start it off right with a song written by one of your very own. The writer wanted to remain anonymous, but their requirement was that every single one of you—and I mean everyone—gets out on the dance floor for it. We don’t think you’ll regret it. It’s a pretty rad song.”