SEVERAL MUFFINS AND SOME LEFTOVER pad Thai later, Mac stepped out of Ava’s house, debating whether or not to head straight home. She stood with her hand on her car door handle, staring up at the bright blue sky, the first clear, sunny day they’d had in weeks. The air felt thinner, crisper, cleaner. The leaves on the trees swaying in the light wind were saturated with greens, yellows, and oranges richer than any colors she’d ever seen. Even the sky seemed more endless, the small puffs of clouds softer. It was as if all her senses had been reawakened and reinvigorated. But she still felt unsettled. Unfinished. There was something she needed to do.
Screw it, Mac thought.
Ten minutes later, she pulled into the Coldwells’ driveway. Claire’s car sat near the garage. Mac took a deep, steadying breath and strode to the front door. She prepared herself for a cold reception—even a door slammed in her face. But she knew she had to try.
She rang the bell, listening to the familiar tone. After a moment, she heard a soft shuffling sound as someone approached on the inside. She held her breath as the door swung open.
Claire wore flannel pajamas decorated with dancing musical notes. Her curly hair was pinned back on either side of her face, and her feet were ensconced in giant, fluffy bunny slippers. The left sleeve of her baggy top was rolled up to the shoulder, and below it her arm was bent at the elbow and encased in the thickest, sturdiest, most alarming cast Mac had ever seen. It extended from just below Claire’s shoulder all the way down to her fingertips.
The two girls stared at each other for a beat. “Oh my god,” Mac burst out. Which was totally not the tone she was going for to break the ice.
But when she looked up, Claire was smirking, not crying. “I know. Pretty impressive.”
Mac blinked hard. Claire hadn’t kicked her off the porch yet. “Um, I was thinking more like terrifying.”
Claire sighed. “It’s like a medical device and a weapon all rolled into one. And it itches already. Like, really, really bad.”
“That sucks.”
An awkward silence fell. Claire shifted. “Do you want to come in?”
Mac wouldn’t have been more surprised if Claire had pulled out her cello and conked her over the head with it. “Um, are you sure?”
“Well, actually, I need a favor.” Claire turned and started down the hall. “Maybe you can open a frozen pizza for me? It’s amazing what you can’t do with only one hand.”
They headed for the kitchen, where Mac busied herself with the freezer and the oven. She’d been in this kitchen hundreds of times, heated up a gazillion pizzas over the years. She turned back around and found Claire watching her, a curious look on her face.
“So was that why you were following me around all night?” she asked.
Mac swallowed hard. “Well . . .”
“Did you know Julie Redding was coming after me? I mean—I barely know her. And yet you were following me around like you were protecting me.”
Mac stared at the floor, her stomach churning with guilt. Because I put you on a list of people we wanted to die. How could she explain to Claire that what she had thought was an innocent—if totally harsh—conversation turned out to be a serial killer’s instruction manual? That it was all her fault that Claire’s fingers were totally crushed, her musical career probably over for good? Mac wondered if she should crush her fingers, too—maybe that would be a punishment that fit her crime. It didn’t seem fair that she would get to go to Juilliard unscathed after all this.
But she couldn’t tell Claire the truth. Not now. Maybe not ever. “Um, Julie said something that made me realize you were her next target,” Mac muttered. It wasn’t exactly a lie. “And I couldn’t let that happen to you.”
Claire shook her head. “It’s terrifying she even had targets at all.”
“I know,” Mac said wearily. “Sorry I followed you around like a freak, though. I know it was probably weird.”
Claire smiled, and for the first time in a long time, there was no trace of the conniving or competitiveness that had defined their friendship for what seemed like forever. It was just a genuinely grateful smile, and it filled Mac with warmth and happiness. She realized how much she had missed Claire. “You saved me,” Claire said simply. “You totally didn’t have to.”
Mac shrugged. “Of course I did.”
The smell of warming pizza filled the kitchen. Mac found her eyes drawn to Claire’s cast again. She had saved Claire’s life, but what about everything else?
“So will you ever be able to play again?” she said quietly.
Claire looked down. “The doctors say it doesn’t look good. Or at least I’ll never be up to my old level.”