Ava exchanged a devastated look with the others. “She didn’t,” she said softly, sadly. “We had all kinds of assemblies at school, way more stuff than we had for Nolan and Granger combined. You don’t remember?” Ava could remember perfectly. Parker had been killed just weeks after Ava’s mother’s death. Ava had only known Parker peripherally, through Nolan—they’d been such good friends, and Parker had been at Nolan’s house a few times when Ava was there, too. After they broke up and Nolan started all those rumors about her, Parker had actually approached Ava, offering her support. He can be such a dick sometimes, Parker had told her. Want me to talk to him for you? But Ava had said she’d be fine. Still, she’d been grateful for the offer of support.
She remembered the morning she found out Parker had been killed. At first, it was disguised as a suicide: Wild girl ODs after a night of partying. But soon enough, the truth came out because of all the wounds on Parker’s face and body.
“You were the one who stepped forward about her dad,” Ava said in a cracked voice. “You were the one who got him arrested. Her mom didn’t want to talk.”
“And you went to her funeral,” Mac said.
“You even spoke,” Caitlin added.
But Julie just blinked. Ava’s heart broke over and over. She’d read about post-traumatic stress disorder in psychology class last year; and they’d talked about it in more than one school assembly. It made sense, she supposed: Julie had been Parker’s best friend.
But could Julie have gone this long without anyone realizing that she was delusional? Could she have lived through the funeral and the loss . . . and then blacked it all out?
Caitlin reached out and tried to take Julie’s hand, but Julie recoiled. “That’s not true!” she screamed, so loudly the voices in Nyssa’s room were silent for a moment before bursting into hysterical, wasted laughter. “Parker’s been with us the whole time. You’re telling me she wasn’t in our film studies class? She was the one who initiated that whole conversation!”
Ava blinked. “No, Julie. You did. You were the first person to say who you’d want gone.”
“In fact, you said two people,” Caitlin added. “Parker’s dad . . . and then Ashley.”
Julie shook her head. “Parker said Ashley. Not me. She started the conversation. She was with us at Nolan’s party. And Granger’s house!” Everyone shook their heads, but she seemed not to notice. “She’s here now, too! She’s the killer!” Her voice and face were practically unrecognizable. “She’s the one doing all this, and I know it sounds crazy, but she wanted to help us. She was just trying to protect us. Of course it’s wrong—I know that. But her heart was in the right place.” She raised a trembling hand and pointed at Caitlin. “You finally have solace because Nolan’s gone.” She gestured at Ava. “And admit it, you would be thrilled to be free of Leslie. You’d have your father back.”
“Shhh!” Ava hissed, her eyes widening. There were so many people around. So many people could hear.
“Parker meant well,” Julie insisted, her voice strangely calm and cold. She fixed Mac with a pointed stare. “None of those people deserved to die—not even Nolan. Which means I have to find Parker before she kills Claire. And you guys are going to let me do that.”
Julie burst forward, knocking Mac roughly against the wall, and dashed down the hallway before any of them could react. They scrambled after her, but she was gone, swallowed up by the crowd.
Ava paused at the edge of the amorphous mass of dancing kids. She looked at Mac. “Where did you last see Claire?”
Mac’s face was pale. “In here, I think.” She stood on her tiptoes, trying to see over people’s heads.
Suddenly, a cry rose up in the crowd. “Cops!” a boy’s voice bellowed.
Everyone screamed. Costumed kids scurried in every direction, bolting for the doors and windows, slamming into one another and pushing the crowd forward. Ava struggled to move against the tide, trying as hard as she could to find where Julie had gone.
Before Julie killed again.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
MAC RACED FROM ROOM TO room, screaming Claire’s name. Please let her still be inside, please let her still be inside, she thought frantically. People were streaming out in the opposite direction, fleeing from the police. Outside, cop cars were parked on the curb, sirens blazing. Mac heard screams and thundering footsteps, but they were fading away. Everyone was heading for the woods, desperate not to be caught. Was Claire there, too?
She stumbled into the front yard. The officers were forming a loose circle around the lawn, trying to contain the sprawling mess of running kids. One officer had a bullhorn to his lips. It echoed with feedback. “If you have been drinking or are otherwise impaired, do not get behind the wheel of your car. We will get you home. I repeat . . .”
“Claire?” Mac called out, thinking she saw her old friend’s head in a clump of kids. No one turned. More kids whooshed past. Mac looked around for Julie, too, but she’d also vanished. Her heart thudded hard.