“What’s going on?” Melissa asked.
Spencer’s throat felt dry. “It’s Emily. She’s on a bridge. I think she’s going to . . .” She trailed off, but by the look on Melissa’s face, it was obvious she knew what Spencer meant.
“Which bridge?” Melissa demanded.
“The covered one on the other side of town,” Spencer said. She stared at Melissa. “Can I take your car?”
Melissa pursed her lips. “I’ll go with you.”
Spencer swung around. “I don’t want to involve you in this.” What if Ali had led Emily there? What if it was dangerous?
Melissa’s eyes were firm. “Stop it. Come on.”
On the lawn, kids were marching up the stage and collecting their diplomas to thunderous applause. Spencer got into the car and slammed the door. Melissa started the engine and gunned out of the lot onto the mercifully empty street. “It won’t take us long to get there,” she said, staring steadily at the road.
As Principal Appleton called out Chassey Bledsoe’s name, Spencer dialed 911. “A friend of mine is going to jump off the covered bridge in Rosewood,” she shouted to the dispatcher, when she answered. “Send an ambulance, now!”
Melissa turned out of the school’s main drive. Spencer then dialed Aria and Hanna; she hadn’t wanted to waste precious time finding them back at the ceremony. Hanna answered on the second ring. Spencer could hear applause in the background. “We need to get to the covered bridge,” she shouted. “Emily’s in trouble.”
“What do you mean?” Hanna asked.
“I don’t know.” Spencer bit her lip. “But I think we need to go to her. Find Aria and meet me there, okay?”
“Definitely,” Hanna said urgently, and hung up.
Melissa gunned around another turn. She gave Spencer a sidelong glance. “What if we get there and it’s too late?”
Spencer chewed hard on her thumbnail. “I don’t know.”
The car sped down the country road that led to the bridge, whipping by a cheese farm, an enormous estate surrounded by acres of lawn, and a fancy restaurant tucked into an old barn. When Melissa was just one hill away from reaching the bridge, Spencer looked ahead on the road, then behind them. “Why don’t I hear an ambulance?” she said aloud.
“I was just thinking the same thing,” Melissa murmured. But then she pressed on the gas. “It’ll be okay,” she said almost angrily. “We’ll get there.”
They made the final turn. Please don’t jump, Spencer repeated over and over again, a sick feeling welling in her stomach. Please, please, please, Em, don’t jump.
The rustic, graffiti-covered bridge loomed in front of her. There were no police or paramedics anywhere. As soon as Melissa pulled onto the shoulder, Spencer sprang out of the car and ran to the small ledge that surrounded the bridge. She peered onto the left side, then the right. There was no one there.
“Emily?” Heart in her throat, Spencer gazed down at the rushing water beneath, expecting to see a flash of Emily’s gold-red hair in the rapids.
Aria’s car roared up next, and she and Hanna jumped out and sprinted toward the bridge. “There she is!” Aria cried out. A board jutted out from the bridge; Emily was scrunched behind it. The wind blew her hair around her face. Tears stained her cheeks. She leaned over the water, her chest heaving.
“Emily!” Spencer screamed. “Don’t!”
Emily looked over at them, and her face crumpled. “Leave me alone. I have to do this.”
“No, you don’t!” Hanna screamed, crying, too.
Emily stared despondently into the rapids. “No one wants me. My family wishes I was dead.”
“They’re just upset,” Spencer urged. “They don’t feel that way for real.”
Emily pressed her hands over her eyes. “Like you guys haven’t been thinking about it? We’re as good as dead. Of course we want to end it all.”
Spencer exchanged a horrified glance with the others.
“Don’t you see what’s happening?” Hanna wailed. “Ali arranged for all of this. She was the one who sent those suicide notes from our phones to our friends and families, making it look like we wanted to kill ourselves. It’s so obvious, Em.”
Emily shrugged. “So? It still doesn’t change anything.”
“Yes, it does!” Hanna banged her fist against the bridge wall. “For months—years—we’ve let Ali manipulate us. We’ve let her make us think people we love are A. Aria lost Noel because of it. And Spencer suspected her mom, remember? Now Ali’s using the power of suggestion to make us think we should commit suicide—and we’re letting her. Are you really going to let her get to you like that?”
Emily peeked at Hanna. “But why would she want us to commit suicide? She already won by getting us sent to Jamaica.”