The music to Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire” filled the room. When Avery began singing, the lyrics weren’t the usual ones. “Miss Hilbrook, Pajama Day, Hunter Bailey, Mr. Ray, Pledge of Winslow, South Field, Flagpole of Shame…”
“Oh my god!” Tenley heard Jessie squeal. “This is amazing!”
“Did I just hear my name?” Hunter said, pretending to preen. Up on the stage, the band launched into the chorus.
“We didn’t lose the ga-ame. We were always winning, since the school’s been playing…”
Hunter grabbed Tenley’s hand. “You heard the band. Everyone out there.”
Jessie was already on the dance floor, dragging Tyler with her. “We didn’t lose the ga-ame,” she sang along with the band. “No, we didn’t give up. But we did high-five them.”
“Let’s do it,” Tenley agreed. The dance floor was the perfect vantage spot to keep an eye out for Delancey. Winslow hadn’t lost the game—and she wasn’t going to, either. “I want to take this dress for a whirl.” She was about to follow Hunter when a beep rose from her beaded purse.
Her phone was in her hands within seconds. Maybe Emerson or Sydney had spotted Delancey! But the number on her screen was blocked. The floor seemed to dip under her feet as she hastily clicked open the message.
Want to know how to end this? You’ll find the gift of knowledge in the auditorium.
Tenley took a step backward, looking wildly around. Abby was locked in the supply closet without a phone. So who had sent that text?
Out on the dance floor, Emerson and Marta had joined Jessie and Tyler. In the back of the room, Sydney had left Calum and was now talking to Mr. Lozano, the art teacher. Tenley dug her nails into her palm as she looked back down at the message. Maybe Abby had pre-programmed it to send before they locked her in the closet. It would make sense; she would have thought she’d be too busy running the homecoming dance to be doling out dares. Which meant there could be some kind of real proof waiting for her in the auditorium—and no Abby there to stop her from taking it.
She thought about grabbing Emerson and Sydney to go with her, but one look at them made her stop. Emerson seemed as if she was almost, nearly having fun on the dance floor. And in the back of the room, Sydney was laughing heartily at whatever Mr. Lozano was saying. They’d all been through so much already. And there was no Abby to worry about right now. She could handle this. She’d promised Sydney and Emerson this would end tonight, and it would.
“Crap, it’s… my mom,” Tenley lied to Hunter. “I’ve got to go call her. You go ahead without me.” She flashed him an apologetic smile before hurrying into the hallway.
She arrived at the auditorium to find it completely empty. The lights were off, except for a single spotlight above the catwalk. “Hello?” she called out, just to be safe. “Anyone here?” Her voice echoed through the empty room. Down the hall, she could hear strains of music drifting out from the cafeteria. Just a few yards away her friends were dancing and laughing, having a blast. Standing alone in the auditorium, it all seemed so distant.
Tenley’s gaze landed on the catwalk. There was something sitting on it, directly under the spotlight. She turned on the lights and moved closer to get a better look. It was a small, elaborately gift-wrapped box, displayed on a swath of fancy brocade fabric. A mass of gold ribbons and bows was stuck to the top.
She remembered the words from her text: You’ll find the gift of knowledge in the auditorium. She hadn’t thought it would be literal. Tenley took a step closer. That box had to be bait. Abby had probably planned to use it to lure her up to the catwalk—so she could jump out of the shadows and shove her right off. But Abby wasn’t here. She was locked up where she couldn’t hurt anyone. Which meant there was no reason for Tenley not to see what was in that box.
She tossed her purse onto the stage. She was bristling with excitement as she climbed the rickety metal staircase that led up to the catwalk. If there was something in that box that tied Abby to the dares… something that she probably planned to snatch back as soon as she sent Tenley tumbling to her death… well, maybe they wouldn’t need Abby’s phone after all.
The stairwell shuddered a little under her weight, and she gripped tightly to the banister as she hurried up the last few stairs. Gingerly, she stepped onto the smooth metal catwalk, making it give it a small swing. Her fingers had just closed around the gift box when a terrible grinding noise made her eyes fly upward.
The one spotlight that was lit up had torn off the ceiling and was now dangling precariously above her. Directly above her.
Her gaze landed on a thin, wire rope tied around the spotlight. She followed it down with her eyes. It was tied to the catwalk! She let out a wail as it hit her: She’d been set up. The light had been rigged to fall the instant the catwalk swung under anyone’s weight—the instant someone went for that gift box.
Slowly, slowly, Tenley backed toward the stairs. But it was too late. As soon as she moved just an inch, there was a loud crack, and the spotlight came hurtling down.
“No!” Tenley flung herself forward just in time. She landed hard on her stomach, the catwalk swaying dangerously as the spotlight crashed down where she’d been standing only seconds before. With a loud boom, it shattered into pieces, glass spraying everywhere. She cried out as fragments pricked at her bare legs. In all the chaos, the top tumbled off the gift box. Her eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of what was inside. Nothing.
Behind her, the broken light burned against the fancy fabric that had been spread out beneath the gift box. She struggled to pull herself to her feet. She nearly had when the fabric suddenly burst into flames.
Fire surged into the air, sending burning hot fingers nipping at her heels. A flame leaped up, searing her calf. Tenley screamed and yanked her dress away, desperately smothering the flames with her hem. She put it out, but the frantic movement caused her to lose her balance. She tipped heavily to the side.
Time seemed to slow as she went sliding off the catwalk.
“Aah!” She grabbed desperately at the edge, catching herself just in time. The top half of her body clung to the hot metal catwalk, while the bottom half dangled in thin air. The floor loomed beneath her, seeming miles away.
“Help! Someone! Please!” Tenley yelled. But the music pounded on in the cafeteria, drowning out her voice. Tears slid down her cheeks as one of her hands began to slip off the catwalk. She kicked with all her might, trying to claw her way back up. Knives sliced through her injured calf, the pain blinding. She was going to fall.
She heard something down below. Tenley’s heart leaped with hope. “Help! Please!” She craned her neck, straining to see. It was a person, dressed in a floor-length black coat, a thick ski mask obscuring everything but two eyes and a mouth. The person paused next to Tenley’s purse and dropped a single sheet of paper on top of it.
Any hope burning inside Tenley was extinguished with a single blow. It was the darer! Somehow, Abby had gotten out.
“Stop!” Tenley yelled. “Please don’t do this, Abby. Help me! I’ll—I’ll do whatever you want.”
But the person was already gone.
“No!” Tenley howled. Adrenaline pumped through her. She couldn’t let Abby win like this.
Mustering every ounce of strength she had, every muscle she’d ever built from years of gymnastics, she hoisted herself up an inch at a time. Her muscles ached with the effort, and pain was searing through her left leg, but she ignored it all, throwing everything she had into getting back onto that catwalk. She landed in a crumpled ball on the hard metal, agony reverberating through her. A flame tore by, and she barely managed to snuff it out with her shoe. She took a deep breath. She had to keep going.
She crawled toward the staircase. Flames flickered around her, singing her dress. Shards of glass pressed into her palms and knees, making her cry out in pain. Sweat and tears coated her cheeks by the time she made it to the stairs. She half limped, half tumbled down. She was breathing hard as she collapsed in a heap at the bottom.
Every inch of her body hurt, but she’d done it. She’d made it.
As she lay there, she heard the muffled sound of her phone ringing in her purse. The sound got her moving again. With labored breaths, she pushed herself toward her purse. But before she could reach her phone, her gaze fell on the note Abby had left behind. There, in the familiar typewriter font, was a poem.
Ding-dong, the witch is dead!
Which old witch? The bitchy witch!
And the killer--that’s me--is free.
You really thought I was Abby?
Well, wasn’t that guess shabby.…
Tenley squeezed her eyes shut. Realizations were slamming into her one after another, like punches to the gut.
Abby wasn’t the darer.
The real darer was out there somewhere, roaming the halls.
And whomever it was had assumed Tenley would die here. This note had been left for Emerson and Sydney to find next to her lifeless body.
She forced open one eye, then the other. It looked as if the fire had mostly burned itself out on the catwalk. She crumpled the note into a ball and shoved it into her purse. She had to find the others. She had to warn them.