“I’m impressed the uniform still fit.”
She casts me a withering glare. “It was a nightmare.”
I laugh. “Let’s not compare notes, then.”
“I missed you,” she says, her voice catching. She reaches out again, and this time I let her take my hand. I missed her too. But the missing is so wrapped up in hurt, it’s impossible to untangle. Every single day I waited in line in the rec room with a feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach. I dialed her number, whispering a prayer ofplease, please, please.And I listened to a prerecorded message, a hollow voice telling me that her number was no longer in service.
Kennedy had left me.
And that was her goodbye.
I stare at her in the darkness. “I missed you too. I guess I’m just used to losing you by now.”
“That hurts.”
“I’m sorry. It’s not true. I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. It just seems like you could have called if you wanted to.”
“I’m here now. Isn’t that what matters?” She tilts her chin up and I stare down. Her hair is damp, and she smells like lavender and honeysuckle. This is where we kiss. It is written in the history books.
But I turn away.
“What’s wrong?” She sits up.
“Everything. You. You’re acting like nothing happened.” The drowsiness is starting to set in again. My body wants to drift away, but I can’t.
She sighs heavily and snaps on the light, temporarily blinding me. “What do you want me to say?”
“That our best friend is dead, Kennedy.” My words feel slow, and through the fog, I’m so frustrated I want to scream. “And maybe the fire wasn’t an accident.”
She stares at me, aghast. “Wasn’t an accident?”
“As in, what if that game wasn’t just a harmless prank?”
“The game?” Kennedy laughs, an ocean of relief in her voice. “You almost had me worried.” Her face looks pale, though, and there are shadows under her eyes.
“Why?” I challenge. “Why would me suggesting that it wasn’t an accident worry you?”
She pauses, seeming at a loss for words. “Because. You’re talking about arson.”
“I’m talking about murder.” The word hangs in the air between us. Speaking it out loud feels like opening a door to a very dangerous place.
She looks up suddenly, past me, into the hallway, and places a finger over her lips.
I turn my head and stare down the dark hallway, and again I strain to hear a noise that shouldn’t be there, to see a face emerging from the darkness. A long, low-pitched creak echoes down the hall, and I feel Kennedy’s hand on my arm. I pull away gently, pressing my feet slowly onto the cold hardwood floor, and take a cautious step toward the door. A second creak freezesme in place, and the hair on the back of my neck stands up.
“Chelsea!” Kennedy hisses.
“There’s something out there!”
“It’s just Chase.”
I look back over my shoulder in disbelief. “If it’s just Chase, why do you care if I go after him?” I flick on the light switch. The hallway is empty. I turn back to Kennedy. “Must have been the wind.”
She scoots to the edge of the bed. “You have me hearing things.” She reaches for my hand, but I keep it by my side. “Look. We’ll hike to the cell spot tomorrow and call my mom. I’ll find out who sold her the game, track them down, and prove it was a prank. Then will you let this go?”
“It’s not just the game!” I force myself to look at her. She looks concerned, but she can lie as well as anyone. “The game just reminded me that the circumstances were suspicious in the first place. But you’ve all avoided me so well, I’ve never had the opportunity to question them.”
Her eyes widen. “You make it sound like we conspired against you.”