“I figured out that part. What I don’t understand is why.”
Nate shoves his hands into his pockets. “You’re not all that bright. You know that, right?” His smile takes the sting out of his words. “You think I should be interested in Hannah or Lynn?”
That would make more sense than this.
“Hannah and Lynn only like me because they think they know me. They don’t. No one does, except you.” The smile fades. “You know what my house is like. Jack comes first. Even when he’s screwing up he’s king. It’s always been that way. I’m popular because Jack’s popular. People just assume I’m like him. They don’t bother to look beneath the surface and see that I couldn’t care less about the things they do. You’re the only one who sees me for who I am. And maybe I should have left it at that. I told myself I would. Now I’m worried I totally screwed things up. Did I?”
Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. Excitement mixes with the confusion and worry, making it hard to know what I feel. Aren’t the best relationships grounded in friendship? And yet, there’s something off. Because Nate’s right. I know him. And he’s not telling the entire truth. So I don’t either. “No.”
“Are you sure?” When I don’t answer immediately, he pulls a crumpled flyer out of his back pocket. “Don’t answer that yet. Not until I give you this.”
Relieved to be thinking about something other than our kiss, I smooth out the paper and look back at Nate. “You don’t want me to miss the drugstore’s New Year’s blowout sale on Christmas decorations?”
Nate laughs. “Look at the other side.”
I flip the page and see Nate’s handwriting scrawled across the back. His penmanship is doctor worthy. But this writing is unmistakable despite the hurried scribble. A phone number.
“I’m pretty sure it’s your father’s.”
My father.
I stare at the number and feel my breath catch. Suddenly NEED and the kiss and everything else disappears. All that matters is the hope I hold. “Are you sure? How?”
“I’m just that good.” Nate plops down on the bed. “Actually, I can’t be one hundred percent sure the number will reach your dad. When I did a reverse search online, it came up as restricted. And no one answered when I called. But I can’t imagine Richard Ward would have the number in his phone under your dad’s name if it didn’t belong to him. Do you agree?”
“You stole Richard Ward’s phone?”
“No.” Nate grins. “But I’m flattered you think I could. The real story is more luck than anything else.” There’s a ding and Nate’s grin disappears as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Jack again. You’d think he could take a hint. Back to my amazing story. Where was I? Oh yeah—I dropped by the drugstore this afternoon and flirted with the airhead Jayleen, who was working the counter.” He gives me a questioning look.
“What?”
“Just hoping you might be jealous. Anyway, when I saw someone go into the restroom, I asked her if I could use the one in the office. She said yes. Mr. Ward’s phone was on his desk, and the rest is history.”
I try not to get too excited. This is what I’ve been searching for. Months of my life, and here it is. But there’s something not quite right about this whole scenario. Or maybe I’m just too used to bad things happening to believe in anything good.
“Mr. Ward just left his phone sitting out on his desk?” The man I’ve dealt with doesn’t strike me as the type to trust his employees.
Nate stares at me for a moment, then says, “The phone was charging. I told you I got lucky.”
“And the phone wasn’t password protected?”
“What’s with all the questions?” Nate slides off the bed and stands. “The number belongs to your father. I thought you might be happy that I got it and you’d want to call him. Do whatever the hell you want with it. I’m out of here.”
“Wait.” The word bursts out of me and Nate stops in the doorway. “Don’t go. I’m grateful. I am. It’s just . . .”
“It’s just what?”
I look down at the pizza box on the floor and give voice to my deepest fear. “What if he won’t talk to me?”
Nate’s expression softens. He crosses to me and pulls me close. I lean my head on his shoulder as he says, “Your dad will be happy you found him, Kaylee. The minute he sees your number come up, he’ll know how much you’ve missed him. He was foolish to walk away from you, but he isn’t brainless. You know what I mean?” A ding tells me Nate has another message, but he doesn’t reach for his phone. He kisses me lightly on the cheek. “Call your father. He’ll answer. I promise.”
I clutch the flyer in my hand and search Nate’s face, wishing I could see the messages he’s been getting. Because deep inside Nate’s eyes I see conviction and something else. Something tense and guarded. Something that scares me. “Dad hasn’t made contact in all these months. How can you be so sure he’ll talk now?”
Nate gives me another one of his grins as he takes my phone off the desk and places it in my hand. “Trust me.”
I always have. I want to now. But as I plug in the number and wonder what to do next, I see Nate check his own phone and frown. And I realize that while I have trusted him in the past, I no longer do.
Gina
“GINA, HONEY? Are you okay in there?”
Mrs. Head’s voice makes Gina jump. How long has she been in the bathroom? “I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute.”
There’s a pause before Mrs. Head says, “Well, if you need anything else, let me know. We’ll be in the kitchen when you’re done.”
She hears footsteps as Lynn’s mom disappears down the hall, and she looks down at the bottle in her hand. Just a simple switch. The pills in her jacket pocket for the ones in the Tylenol bottle in the cabinet. And she has to do it now before Mrs. Head comes back.
Her hand is unsteady as she dumps the Tylenol pills into a small plastic bag she brought with her. Because while there’s a chance the pills are harmless, she knows they most likely aren’t. But it’s not her fault. It isn’t. She isn’t the one who decided the pills should be placed here. She isn’t the one who refused to give her concert tickets the first time around. Lynn or someone in her family must have ticked someone off good to have them screw with her like this. That isn’t Gina’s fault either.
She jumps as her phone rings, and one of NEED’s pills falls to the floor. She gets down on her knees to find it. Damn. There. Behind the toilet.
Yuck.
She grabs the pill, pushes to her feet, and catches her reflection in the mirror—flushed cheeks, sweaty forehead, guilty eyes. No. Her eyes are the same. Everything is the same. This isn’t a big deal. She doesn’t know what the pills will do. Maybe nothing. Maybe give Lynn a buzz, which she could probably use after Amanda’s death. Or maybe Lynn’s dad will end up high. He seems nice but stuffy, so seeing him lose some of his perfect soldier posture could be fun. But if they do more . . . or worse . . .
The phone rings again. Her father is calling. He’s left several messages and she’s sure she knows what they all say. He’ll scream that he wants her home this minute to face what she’s done.
Anger and indignation burn away the nauseating fear. She knows her father will not believe that she had nothing to do with the car. He won’t care that someone else is to blame. She’ll be punished, which sucks big. Well, if she’s going to be punished, she might as well earn it and the concert tickets, too.
She picks up the Tylenol bottle, drops the last replacement pill into the container, and places it back where she found it in the medicine cabinet. Nothing to it. Then, making sure the bag of the old pills is deep in her coat pocket, she flushes the toilet and splashes some cold water on her forehead.
The concert tickets will be worth it. It’s all worth it, she tells herself as she walks out the bathroom door.
“Hi, honey, are you sure you’re okay?” Mrs. Head asks as Gina walks into the kitchen. Mrs. H. grabs a tissue out of a box, walks over to Gina, and wipes a tear f
rom her cheek. Gina hadn’t realized she was crying. She never cries. But for some reason having Lynn’s mother act so nice makes her cry harder.
“Your mom called looking for you. She said your father will be here any minute to pick you up.”
“What?” Gina shakes her head. “I don’t want to go home.” Not now. Not yet. Wait.
A horn honks.
She can’t breathe as Mrs. Head calls for Lynn to say goodbye and ushers Gina toward the foyer.
Lynn gives Gina a hug and tells her to come back tonight if she can. Mrs. Head gives her a hug too, presses the tissue into her hand, and opens the front door. But . . . The door closes behind Gina. She’s changed her mind. She wants to go back to the bathroom and fix this. The horn honks again.
She thinks about telling the truth. She could confess and give the pills back. But then she’d be punished twice—for the pills and the car—and maybe by NEED for saying too much. NEED might do something to hurt her. What’s to stop them?
“Gina, get in the car now.”
As she climbs into the front seat, she catches sight of Mrs. Head and Lynn in the living room. They wave at the window as Gina’s father puts the car in gear. Another car pulls up. Two people get out as Gina’s dad says, “I don’t know what the hell is going on with you, but you are going to explain yourself.”
The snow is gaining intensity as her father drives down the street.
“Did you hear me, Gina? What the hell is going on with you? You damaged the car. You ran out of the house. What is wrong with you?”
Everything. “Wait. We have to go back.” She can’t do this.
“You’re not going anywhere except home for a very long time.”
“But I did something terrible.” She grabs his arm and holds on to it. “Please. I have to fix it.” She doesn’t need the tickets. Not like this. Who needs concert tickets?
“You’re damn right you have to fix it.” He yanks his arm free and the car swerves and skids as it picks up speed.
“I don’t know what the hell you think you’re doing, young lady, but wait until we get home—” He turns to look at her and doesn’t see the lights. But Gina does. A car. There’s another car.
“Stop!” she screams. Her dad screams too as the cars collide. Everything screams. Metal. Her. Her father. Then everything goes quiet.
NETWORK MEMBERS—686
NEEDS PENDING—683
NEEDS FULFILLED—218
Bryan
BRYAN GLANCES at his watch, then back at the house he’s been staking out for the past half-hour. NEED’s requirement is clear. For Bryan to get what he asked for, this task has to be completed tonight. But it’s cold and windy and the snow is getting heavier with each passing minute.
This sucks. It all sucks.
Everyone Bryan talked to, including Jack, gave him the same information about tonight’s gathering. Technically, Bryan was on the invitation list. He’s supposed to be inside talking about Amanda. Exchanging stories and sharing tears. Remembering her. As if forgetting who she was, what she meant, and what he did is even a possibility. The only way to forget is to get the gun that NEED will provide.
So Bryan stays crouched in the bushes, shivering against the wind, waiting, watching, hoping. For what, he doesn’t really know. Doing this seems wrong. But doing nothing seems equally wrong. He wants to talk to someone, but the only person who knows what Bryan is up to is Jack Weakley, and Jack isn’t exactly the type to have insightful conversations. Bryan hadn’t thought Jack was really capable of holding a conversation at all until he called.
Thinking about Jack, Bryan pulls out his phone and types: Where is he?
A few seconds later, the return message reads: I’m working on it. Hold your ass and wait there.
Hold your ass? Yeah, Jack’s a mental giant. “Wait there.” Easy for Jack to say. He isn’t the one in danger of getting frostbite. Although maybe his part is worse. After all, Nate is his brother. Betraying family has to be worse. And for what? What does Jack want that he’s willing to go so far to get it? An iPad? A computer? Some sort of sports junk that he’s always showing pictures of online?
A gust of wind makes Bryan shiver, or maybe it’s his disgust. Not for Jack, but for himself. Because as pointless as Bryan thinks the stuff Jack probably asked for is, what Bryan has requested is no better. Sports equipment isn’t a need. Neither is a gun. Suicide isn’t noble. Bryan knows that. Killing himself won’t bring back Amanda. Dying is easy. It means he no longer has to face what he’s done. And using a gun is the easiest method of leaving his guilt behind. He’s always believed suicide is for wimps who don’t care about anyone but themselves. He’s talked to his parents about it. His friends. The annoying school counselor when his mother was worried that he was depressed and stressed.
He was offended by the concern then. But somehow, in a matter of days, Bryan has become the thing he most despised. A coward. It’s why he’s out here in the freezing cold instead of inside where he used to belong.
One thing. He did one careless thing and now he no longer belongs anywhere.
His phone vibrates and he struggles to remove his glove so he can swipe the screen. Even with his glove off, it takes three tries.
Nate has already been there and gone. He must be at Kaylee’s house. Am having my mother call him. Hang tight.
Gone before he got there. Maybe it’s a freakin’ sign. He should bail before he really does get frostbite.
The snow falls harder. His phone tells him five minutes are up. Jack hasn’t contacted him again. Time to get out of here.
Bryan grabs a branch to help him stand upright. The cold has made his muscles stiff. If Nate had shown, Bryan doubts he could have moved fast enough to go through with the plan. So much for thinking he is smart. For someone his teachers say is a smart guy, how could he be so completely dumb?
Without a backward glance at the house, Bryan heads down the street to where he parked his car. If someone he knew saw and recognized it, he could just say he came, sat there for a while, and couldn’t bring himself to go in the house and talk about Amanda. At least he’s thought that much out. It was Jack who said it was best to wait outside. Bryan agreed it was the smartest plan because he didn’t want to think too hard about what he was doing. Well, he’s thinking now, and for the first time he’s wondering why NEED exists. What’s the purpose? For what reason did it put a murder weapon in his hands? Why is it making Jack turn against his brother?
Bryan rolls his eyes as he brushes the snow off his car and thinks about Jack. He’s popular, but not one of Jack’s friends would call him smart, and unless he’s on a football field he’s barely aware of anything or anyone but himself. He wouldn’t bother to read other people’s posts on NEED. And if he didn’t see the photographs, Jack might not understand that NEED is planning something unpleasant for Nate. In Jack’s unquestioning brain, NEED is giving him a chance to score a cool gift and haze his brother all in one fell swoop. Talk about a great way to start the New Year.
Will Jack believe Bryan if he tells him that NEED means to do more than scare Nate? Probably not. Bryan knows that to convince Jack, he’ll have to confess what he did to Amanda. And if he does that, he might as well turn himself in to the cops, because there isn’t a chance in hell Jack will keep it a secret.
Bryan climbs into his car, reaches into his pocket for the syringe that he found in Mrs. Orlovsky’s mailbox, and places it on the passenger seat. He should go home. He should text Jack and say he’s done. He should call the police, turn the syringe over, and confess to delivering the cookies.
A simple mistake in judgment.
A mistake that turned him into a killer.
A murderer.
Which is why he can’t confess and why he isn’t going home. He can’t stand the thought of disappointing his family. He doesn’t want to live with the knowledge that everyone thinks he’s a bad guy. NEED will tell them the truth if he doesn’t go through with this. NEED holds all the cards. It knows what h
e’s done. It can turn him in at any time. It can send one of its members after his family. Maybe it already has. And even worse, he knows from the posts he saw online that if he doesn’t do what NEED has asked, someone else will.
Kaylee
NO ANSWER. VOICEMAIL. I want him to answer. I need him to. I lean my head against the wall next to my bedroom door and listen to the automated recording. When I hear the beep, I hang up.
“What’s wrong?” Nate asks, looking up from his sixth slice of pizza.
“He didn’t answer.” A weight settles deep in my chest. The automated voice means I still don’t know if this is my father’s phone number.
“Call back.”
“Why?” Inside I flinch. “If he didn’t answer before then it’s not like he’s going to answer now.”
“He might.” Nate throws his pizza back in the box. “Let’s reverse the situation for a minute. What would you do if you were hiding for months and then suddenly you saw your father’s number show up on a phone that you’re certain he doesn’t know about?”
“I’d answer the phone.”
He laughs. “Really?”
“Maybe.” Or I’d be too stunned or scared to answer.
“So call again. He’s going to answer this time. I know it.” Nate smiles.
There it is again. The certainty and something more. Something that tells me Nate isn’t telling the whole truth about this number or how he got it. Did NEED give it to him? Is that why he’s certain my father will answer? It seems too coincidental that Nate just happened to come up with a method of contacting my father now. NEED has to be involved. Still, Nate’s first NEED request hasn’t been fulfilled. He can’t ask for anything else yet. Even he said that. Unless something has changed. Please don’t let anything have changed.
“What are you waiting for?” His phone buzzes and he looks down at the screen. “Save my place in this conversation,” he says. I shift to my left and watch as his finger taps his password on the keypad. Upper right corner. Down, in the middle. Down again right corner. Left middle or upper? I can’t tell. When he calls up his message, I walk over to my bed, take a seat, and grab one of my pillows so it looks like I’m lost in thought. Something is going on with Nate. Something that he doesn’t want me to know about. Something . . .