My pen hovers over the notebook. Jenny’s words replay in my head. What about Ethan?
He was in my room. He does know my medications. And then there was the article. I bite my bottom lip until tears brim on my lashes.
I snap the notebook closed.
Ethan is my best friend. I refuse to let this game make me turn on him.
I jolt awake. The bedroom is dark, lit only by the dim streetlight filtering in around the curtains. My forehead is damp with sweat, and my pajamas cling to my body. Something woke me.
Tink.
A pebble hits my window.
My heart thunders. Someone is outside. I glance at the bedside table: 11:45 p.m. Fifteen minutes until the meeting time. It can’t be a coincidence. Is the Society out there?
Tink.
I kick off the sheets and climb out of bed, then tiptoe to the window and cautiously peer around the edge of the curtain. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it wasn’t to see Lyla Greene standing in the parking lot with her car door flung wide behind her. She sees me and waves. I exhale a long breath, then open the curtains and heft up the ancient window to stick my head out.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
“You seemed weird about taking your mom’s car, so I thought I’d pick you up. Nikki was right anyway—it’s better if we have fewer cars.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going. And you need to leave before you wake up my mom.”
“Why?”
“Because she’ll murder me. Then you,” I say.
“I meant why don’t you want to come?” she asks.
“I just don’t want to do it anymore. It’s not worth it.”
“But I have a plan.”
“Oh yeah? And what’s that?” I hear a noise in the hallway and hold my finger to my lips, but a moment stretches out and there’s no further sound.
“I’ll tell you on the way,” Lyla says.
I press my lips into a line. But I am curious to hear what she has to say, and if I wake up Mom, I can tell her my friend popped by and I went outside to talk to her. That shouldn’t get me into too much trouble.
“Gimme a minute.” I pull a sweater on over my pajama top, shove my feet into some slip-ons, then creep out of my bedroom, down the darkened hallway, to the front door. A creak sounds behind me. I pause with my hand on the front door. When the noise doesn’t continue, I unbolt the lock and slip out.
Lyla’s waiting in the front seat of her car when I get there. “Get in,” she calls.
I scan the apartment windows for signs of life, then sigh and open the passenger-side door. I have to move aside a crumpled bag of McDonald’s so I can sit down.
“Okay,” I say, leaving my door wide open. “I’m listening but not committing.”
“So Nikki’s out of the game, right?” Lyla answers.
I nod.
“And based on the way Farrah freaked out about the Nikki thing, there’s a good chance she’s not coming this time either.”
“And?” I peer up at Mom’s window. Still dark. Still quiet.
“And that means there are only three girls left. Our odds of winning are, like, twice as good as last week. And they’re even better if we agree to split the money. Think about it. If we agree to an alliance, we have a sixty-six percent chance of winning. Fifty K for each of us. And the odds go up to one hundred percent if we beat Hartley.”
“If we beat Hartley,” I repeat. That girl doesn’t even know what fear is.
“She’s a strong player,” Lyla agrees. “But we don’t know what the next dare is going to be. It could be something one of us excels at. The point is, we won’t know unless we go.”
“Why not ask all the girls to split the money?” I say. “Two of us can intentionally fail at the dares, and then we all split the winnings.”
She shakes her head. “I can’t see Hartley going for something like that. She’s an all-or-nothing kind of girl, not a team player.”
I bite my lip, considering. I’m flattered she chose me. Of all the girls she could have propositioned, I’m clearly the lame horse of the race.
“I dunno,” I say. “This whole thing has gotten creepy. I got the invitation in my room today. Tucked under my bedcovers.”
“Mine was on my dresser when I got home from school. But that’s part of the problem. Remember what the note said? Refuse to play the game…”
“We think you know what happens,” I say, supplying the end of the threat.
Lyla nods, somber. “Let’s just go. If we don’t leave now, we’ll be late.”
I look at the time. She’s right. We’ve already spent five minutes having this conversation.
“Okay,” I relent. “Let’s go.”
We’ve been on the road for five minutes before I remember I’m in my PJs and that my inhaler, not to mention my cell phone, is at home.
“You okay?” Lyla asks, somehow sensing the shift in my mood.
“I’m fine.”
But Lyla’s not buying it, and I feel the need to give her something.
“It’s just been a weird couple of days. I had a fight with my best friend tonight.”
“Ethan?” she asks.
I nod.
“I see.”