“From all your vast experience appraising jewelry?” Farrah asks.
“I’ve had more than a few occasions to get intimate with the richer things in life,” she counters, shutting Farrah down neatly.
“We should go to the police,” I say. End this whole thing. It would be the responsible thing to do. They’d probably call Mom, and she’d find out I took the car, but maybe I’d get sympathy points for being honest.
“We can’t,” Farrah says, at the same time Hartley says, “No.”
“Why not?” I ask.
Farrah presses her lips into a glossy line.
Whatever it is, it’s clear the person behind this game has a juicy secret on each of them. Something big enough to get them to blindly follow his instructions.
Except for me. I’m too sick and uninteresting to be blackmailed. All it took for me was the promise of adventure.
“Look, we all have our reasons for being here,” Lyla finally says. “Let’s just…leave it at that.”
It occurs to me that I’m the only one considering quitting. If I leave, go back to my apartment, my bedroom, this game will go on without me.
“Okay,” I say, frustrated with everything about this situation. “Then let’s play.”
My chest chooses that moment to squeeze in just the wrong way, sending me into a coughing fit.
Hartley stifles laughter.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing, it’s just…” She lets her words trail off, fighting to rein in a grin.
“What?” I repeat.
She shrugs. “Well. It’s just…you’re obviously not winning the game.”
It’s as good as a punch to the gut.
“Why are you such a bitch, Hartley?” Farrah says, but her tone says she agrees with the sentiment, if not the delivery.
Hartley doesn’t respond, just plunges her hands deep in the pockets of her baggy jeans. I look at the ring of faces around me. Hartley, who couldn’t care less. Farrah, who is recovering from her moment of sympathy. Nikki, who’s too smart to pick a dog in this fight. Even Lyla, who is arguably the nicest one here, doesn’t look convinced. I grind my teeth. I shouldn’t care what they think—especially not jail-bound Hartley. But for some reason I do.
Before I can think it through, I square my jaw and march over to Lyla, who is still holding the smooth black jar. I yank the lid off and plunge a hand inside. It’s just large enough for my hand to sink in to the wrist, and at the bottom I find a single piece of folded paper. I pull it out, and the others scurry close to read over my shoulder.
Go to Six Flags in the 9th Ward. Scale the Mega Zeph roller coaster. And take a leap of faith.
The blood rushes out of my head.
“Well.” Hartley pins me with a stare. “What are we waiting for?”
Farrah Weir-Montgomery is in my car. Ethan will never believe it.
I can hardly believe it. Why did I have to go and open my big mouth when Nikki suggested we all take one car? Why did I feel the need to impress these random girls? So what if Hartley cracked a joke about me running back home to Mommy? Now I’m committed to this harebrained plot.
“Turn up the music,” Hartley says, leaning across the center console to spin the volume dial. Mom’s favorite smooth jazz station blares from the speakers.
“Mind?” Farrah turns it way down again. “I have a headache.”
“So we all have to suffer?” Hartley says.
My own head throbs. “Can everyone just…be quiet, please?”
I rub my temples. I wonder what kind of permanent damage I’ve already done to my body. That warehouse was covered in dust, and I’ve been on my feet for nearly an hour, and that was after falling flat on my back. I’m not coughing yet, but what will tomorrow hold? Did I cut my life expectancy in half by breaking the rules? I bite my lip to keep from crying.
“Are you going to move or what?” Hartley says.
I exhale slowly, then shift into reverse. It’s quiet for the first few minutes as we bump over rutted gravel roads, but by the time we hit the interstate, the bickering begins again.
“This is so freaking weird.” Farrah looks miserably out the window.
“Really?” Hartley says. “Just another school night to me.”
Farrah twists around to shoot her a venomous glare. “Are you going to come at me for everything I say?”
“I guess we’ll have to see,” Hartley says. “The night is young.”
Farrah huffs. “You’re a real blast, you know that?”
Hartley chuckles darkly.
“Why don’t you two just kiss and make up?” Lyla says.
Farrah makes a gagging sound.
“What’s wrong, Fair?” Hartley hooks her hands around her seat. “I’m up for it.” She leans closer, and Farrah shrieks. Hartley laughs as she falls back against her seat.
“Just stay away from me, okay?” Farrah says.
“Whatever you say, princess.”
I see a spark in the rearview mirror. “No smoking in the car!”
“I don’t smoke,” Hartley says.
A horn blares.