“My point is that no one would put that much time and energy into a potentially hot new social networking site if they weren’t interested in a big payoff. And the only way someone rakes in the cash is if they rack up the number of users and keep the users coming back for more. Making users do things like that . . . It just doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless this network isn’t about making money. I mean, really, think about the money the site has to be losing.” I navigate to the screen with the NEED fulfillment counter.
NETWORK MEMBERS—688
NEEDS PENDING—685
NEEDS FULFILLED—214
“Someone has already spent a lot of money. If the site grew bigger, they’d have to spend a whole lot more.” Certainly more money than they could make back any time soon. Maybe they could change the rules about what kinds of . . .
Wait. I look at the numbers on the screen again and suddenly I can’t breathe. “Nate.” My voice is thin. “Didn’t you say the whole purpose of a social networking site is to get as many users as it can?”
“Yeah.”
“And we’ve learned that once you create an account you can’t delete it.”
“Which isn’t unlike a lot of the other sites out there. They claim you can erase your profile, but it never really goes away. Which is disturbing, but I don’t understand why you’re talking about it now.”
“Because if no one can delete their profile, then the number of users should always stay the same or go up. Right?”
“Yeah. So?”
Blood pounds loudly in my ears as I think back to this morning, before I called the police. Before NEED shut down and updated its site. “So, Nate, the number of users has gone down.”
Gina
“I DON’T KNOW how it happened, Jim. The car was fine this morning.”
Gina slowly creeps down the hall outside the kitchen and rolls her eyes at the familiar argument. Her father loves to scream about every dent and ding in the car, and her mother automatically protests that it wasn’t her fault. Then, after several minutes, Mom apologizes profusely and Dad goes off to watch football. Her mother always ends up being the one who says “Sorry.” Mom says that being right isn’t everything and you can get more bees with honey than with vinegar or some crap like that. Well, from the sound of it, Mom is going to need to dump a hell of a lot of honey on Dad. And it better happen soon because Gina has somewhere to be, and standing around bundled up like a mummy in this coat and scarf is starting to make her sweat.
“Well, it’s not fine now,” Gina’s dad yells. “How the hell can something like that happen and you not know about it?”
“The car was fine when I got home from the store. I would have noticed if it hadn’t been when I took the groceries out of the trunk. Did you leave the garage door open after you got home?”
“You think this is my fault?”
Gina shakes her head as she inches toward the side door.
“I don’t know whose fault it is, Jim. Gina’s been grounded from driving, but maybe she snuck the keys again.”
Hey, that’s not fair. It wasn’t her. She’s pissed as her father yells her name and orders her to come to the kitchen.
Now what? Stay and deny that she had anything to do with the car? Or leave? The choice is easy. She opens the back door and slips outside. The minute the door closes behind her she runs, feeling angrier with every step. How could her parents automatically think that she had anything to do with whatever happened to her mother’s ugly car? Parents are supposed to be on your side. Hers missed that memo.
Gina ignores the ringing that comes from her cell deep in her coat pocket next to the bottle she found tucked into a small box on her windowsill. Shivering, she slows her pace and turns up the driveway of a brown house decked out in blue and white twinkly lights. When the front door opens, she smiles.
“Hey, I hope you don’t mind that I’m early. Ever since I learned about Amanda I haven’t been able to even watch TV without crying. I thought I could help you set up for the memorial thing. At least then I’d be doing something useful.”
Lynn is happy to let her in. Lynn is one of the younger cheerleaders. She looks up to Gina and she probably wasn’t sure who would come when she sent out an email about hosting a gathering to deal with Amanda’s death. She asks Gina for her coat but Gina begs off. “I’ll just keep it for a little while until I warm up. My parents didn’t have time to drive me over, so I walked. It’s really cold outside.”
Lynn’s parents are happy to see Gina too. They don’t suspect a thing when she helps them put out bottles of soda and large plastic cups and then asks to use the bathroom. Her fingers are unsteady as she opens the door of the medicine cabinet and sees the Tylenol bottle on the middle shelf. Just where NEED told her it would be.
Hannah
HANNAH FROWNS at her reflection. The makeup has helped remove most of the evidence of her tears. But no matter how much eyeliner and waterproof mascara she uses, her eyes still look tired and her face, washed-out. Maybe she should change her sweater. Amanda would have been able to tell her what color would be best. Amanda always knew.
Tears that Hannah has been working to keep at bay spill over.
“This sucks.” She swipes at her cheek and ignores the ache at the base of her skull. Amanda would have been upset that Hannah has been crying all day. She didn’t like tears or sad things. Every time they watched a movie, Amanda insisted on a romantic comedy. Something with a happily ever after. Amanda would have approved of what Hannah is doing tonight, though, including not telling her parents more than they need to know. They already said Hannah could go out. There’s no reason to tell them that her destination has changed.
Crap. Whoever said this makeup is waterproof is dead wrong. Grabbing a tissue, Hannah dabs at the smears under her eyes and walks to her closet.
She puts on a fitted, deep green top with a V-neck that always elicits a raised eyebrow from her father. But it isn’t as low as the tops he sees a lot of girls wear at school, so he never says anything. Hannah knows he would break that silence if she told him she was meeting a guy instead of going to the Amanda memorial, but what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.
She checks her phone and looks at the text she received an hour ago.
Hey. It’s Nate. Jack gave me the message. Are you okay? Which is irrelevant to ask because I know you aren’t. If you need to talk, I’m here for you. Maybe we can get together the two of us? I hate thinking of you going through this alone. Oh—and this is a new phone. My parents don’t know about it, so text me. Don’t call.
A couple of texts later and she had a date with the boy she’s been crushing on all year.
“Hannah, honey?”
“I’ll be down in five minutes, Mom,” Hannah calls, snagging a hoodie off the end of her bed. No point in having her father see the green shirt and ask unnecessary questions.
She glosses her lips pink, looks in the mirror again. She still looks sad, but Nate will understand. She knows he will, because he already understands how much she needs to be with him—with someone who gets what she’s going through. Now she just has to do one small thing so they can be alone.
Hannah takes a last look in the mirror and heads down the hall to her parents’ bedroom. The shouts she hears from downstairs tell her a video game competition is under way. The keys are in the middle drawer of her father’s nightstand. The code to the security system is written on a yellow sticky note affixed to the inside page of her father’s journal. Her father has a terrible memory, which is why he always carries the journal with him when there’s a chance he’ll need to turn the alarm on or off at school.
After sliding the yellow note and the keys into her purse, Hannah hurries downstairs. She doesn’t want to keep Nate waiting.
Her mother volunteers to drive her to Lynn’s. “The snow is really starting to come down,” she says.
“Thanks, but if it’s okay, I kind of want to walk. I think the air will help me feel better.”
Lynn’s house is in the opposite direction from where Hannah has to go. But if her mother insists on driving, she’ll just take the ride and let Nate know she’ll be late.
The sympathy in her mom’s face makes Hannah want to cry again. “Are you sure?”
Hannah nods and swallows back the tears that are fighting to escape.
“Okay. But text me the minute you get there.”
Before her mom can change her mind, Hannah pulls on her boots, bundles into her thick purple coat, and tugs on her mittens. She carefully puts on her hat so her hair won’t totally stand on end when she takes the hat off, and she wraps a scarf around her face. Her mom gives her a big hug and tells her to call when she’s ready to be picked up from Lynn’s. “I love you, Hannah,” she yells as Hannah opens the door.
Hannah looks back toward the foyer, where her mother stands in her sweatshirt and fuzzy red and white socks. The sound of laughter rings from the family room at the back of the house, along with someone shouting “You cheated!” And for a minute, Hannah wants nothing more than to stay here with her mom and her family. But she only has to think of Nate waiting for her and she is yelling a careless “Love you too” as she races outdoors into the snow.
When the school comes into sight, her teeth are chattering and she’s covered with snow, which is falling more heavily than it was when she left the house. A car is headed down the road and her heart leaps as she peers through the white flurry, hoping to see Nate behind the wheel. But the car doesn’t slow down.
Tired of the cold, she runs toward the door to the building nearest the gymnasium, where she told Nate she could get them inside. Nate is nowhere to be seen. Disappointment swirls hot and fast, but she tamps it down. Nate will be here, she thinks, and when she checks her phone she knows she’s not just fooling herself.
Running late. Kaylee needed help. Go inside out of the cold. I’ll be there soon. —Nate.
Ugh. Kaylee. For the last year, Hannah was sure Nate was hung up on Kaylee Dunham. Why? She had no idea. It’s not like Kaylee’s funny or especially smart or sexy. Although Hannah wishes she had the olive skin that makes Kaylee look tanned even in the winter. Whatever the reason, Nate always defends Kaylee and hangs out with her at lunch even though everyone else has written her off. And there’s something about the way he talks to her . . .
But he has assured her that he and Kaylee are just friends, and now he’s on his way to meet Hannah so they can have their first official date. Hannah uses a penlight to key in the security code and breathes a sigh of relief as the light on the code pad goes from red to green. Quickly she unlocks the door, steps inside, and sends her mother a message to say she arrived safe and sound. Now all Hannah needs is Nate.
She shakes off the snow and paces the dark hall, too scared of getting caught to turn on a light. The dark will be romantic when Nate gets here, but he’s not here and the small penlight is barely enough to help her find the drinking fountain. Maybe she should freshen up just in case he brings a better light and will be able to see her face.
A metal click makes her smile. The door opens and she can see the outline of Nate as he walks through the door. He’s here. Amanda would have told her to play hard to get and make him come to her. But she can’t help it. She rushes toward him.
“I’m so glad you made it. It’s kind of spooky in this place without the lights on. But I have this.”
She shines the light on the floor to make sure she doesn’t stumble, and she smiles as he unwraps the scarf that covers his face. Then she sees the knife and screams.
Kaylee
“DOGS,” I SAY as Nate walks back into the room, bringing the smell of melted cheese and tomato sauce with him. While he’s been waiting by the front door for the pizza he ordered that took forever due to the snow, I’ve been searching other social media sites for more information about the things NEED has asked people to do. I haven’t eaten in hours, but after what I’ve seen I don’t have much of an appetite.
“What?” he asks, setting the large box and stack of napkins on the floor.
“The photograph with all the blood. Mrs. Markham’s three dogs are dead.” They were beagles, although what was done to them makes it impossible to tell in the photograph. I try to picture Mrs. Markham, but as much as I know I must have met her or seen her walking her dogs, I can’t. For some reason that bothers me just as much as the blood and gore. “Something or someone attacked them.”
“Wow.” Nate runs a hand through his hair. “I guess we can rule out an animal attack. Unless, of course, the animal has learned to upload pictures to the Internet. I know it’s terrible to say, but I’m glad it’s dogs and not another person. After Amanda, it feels like anything is possible. You know?”
I know.
“There’s more.” I push the image of the mangled flesh out of my head. Which is easier than it should be because there are other pictures to take its place.
“More?” Nate blinks. “What kind of more?”
“A bunch of people online are talking about Mrs. Frey getting arrested. She got into a fistfight with Lisa Jackson.”
“Pastor Frey’s wife decked Ms. Jackson?”
Ms. Jackson teaches first grade. Her husband died last summer in a boating accident. I remember helping my mother make cookies to take to Ms. Jackson’s house on the other side of town. Ms. Jackson is petite and fragile. The opposite of Mrs. Frey, with her big broad shoulders and accusing eyes that pass judgment on everything they see—especially me. She enjoys thinking she’s better than everyone else. Better manners. Better family. Better everything. The look in her eyes might tell someone she wants to hit them, but the Bible in her hands says she would never stoop to the devil’s level. Which is why everyone online is abuzz with her actions.
“Mrs. Frey screamed at Ms. Jackson, slapped her, and pulled her hair all in the middle of a prayer meeting. From the sounds of it, Ms. Jackson didn’t just sit back and wait to get rescued either. She fought back.”
“Good for her. I can’t say I’m sorry Mrs. Frey is hanging out in jail.”
Neither can I. But I can’t feel good about it either. Or about all the relationship status changes that I’ve noticed since Nate’s last visit. Mostly, I roll my eyes when I see one of my classmates publicize his or her her dating issues on social media, if I look at all. Unless I’m searching for my father, I typically avoid all of the social media sites. But today I was looking for anything out of the ordinary, which is why I noticed the twelve who made the change from In a Relationship to Single. I can’t help but wonder what circumstances prompted those posts or the other disgruntled updates.
“That’s not all,” I say as Nate grabs a slice of pizza and offers it to me. I shake my head, and start telling him about the break-ups and the other posts that could be connected to NEED. A missing cat. Shredded holiday decorations. Garbage strewn across the snow. A broken lock on someone’s back door. All things that could be blamed on wild animals or a prank gone wrong. But the photos of the broken farmhouse mailbox, the tipped garbage cans, and official-looking papers filled with numbers posted on NEED tell me that there are other forces at work. Thankfully, I haven’t found a picture of a dead cat. There’s still hope the animal is huddled under a porch, waiting out the snow. I cling to that idea, wanting desperately to think that something is normal.
“Wow.” Nate shoves the last of his pizza slice into his mouth and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He looks at the screen, shakes his head, and puts the phone back in his pocket.
“What’s wrong?” I ask. As if everything isn’t wrong.
He swallows and shrugs. “Jack keeps asking where I am, which is just strange. I mean, he normally couldn’t care less what I’m doing. But I’ve gotten six texts in the last two hours. He’s asked if I’m with you or at Lynn’s for the Amanda memorial or whether I want to catch a movie. This last one says Mom is looking for me.”
“Maybe she is.”
Nate grabs another piece of pizza. “Mom has her own phone. Trust
me. If she wanted me home, she wouldn’t be counting on Jack to get the job done. Whatever Jack is up to, I’m sure Mom doesn’t know about it. And if everything you’ve seen online is true, I’m going to guess the bug up Jack’s butt has to do with NEED. The question is how to get Jack to expose what he’s up to so we can call the cops on him and bust everything wide open without NEED knowing you had anything to do with it.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“You can’t stop me from worrying.” He puts down the pizza and leans toward me. “And now that I really think about it, maybe we have to just let the cops figure this out on their own and stay on the sidelines. You got a warning. NEED wants you to back off. You know me, I’d normally take that kind of message as a challenge, but after seeing what’s going on . . .” He reaches out for my hand and wraps his fingers tightly around mine. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
I can’t breathe as his hand tightens its grip. The sarcastic humor is gone. The self-deprecation. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t yesterday. I don’t today. But instead of the haze of confusion, this time his words make me feel safe. I still don’t know if I’m ready for us to be more than friends, but Nate isn’t giving me space to decide as he kisses me.
I wait for whatever I should be feeling. Excitement. Attraction. Whatever a kiss between us should bring. But all I feel is wooden and inept, wishing I knew how to respond to this, because I’m certain that in this moment something has changed that can never be changed back.
He presses me close. Then suddenly he leans back to look into my face. More than anything I want to look anywhere but at him. But there is no point in trying to pretend Nate didn’t kiss me. So before he can crack a joke or something, I say, “I don’t understand.”
“What’s to understand? I kissed you.” Nate rolls his eyes and shrugs as if amused. But I can see the hurt under his composure.