Edward Hynes Charter School stretches out on top of a perfectly manicured lawn, an American flag sitting languidly in the still, sticky air. A few teachers skulk at the edge of the property, but other than that, there isn’t a person in sight. Classes are in session.
Ethan shifts the car into Park. “Are you sure about this?”
But I’m already gone, climbing the embankment toward the double doors. He calls after me but gives up when I don’t turn around. My breaths wheeze, and I pull my inhaler from my bag and take two quick hits. Used to be that I could climb a few steps without a problem, but I push the worry from my thoughts. I don’t care about my failing body right now.
All I care about is finding Jenny.
I don’t plan on there being a guard posted at the front door of the school, so I paste on a smile, make up a lie about being late for school, and hope hope hope that my sick body makes me pass for an eighth grader. I’m almost insulted when it actually does.
Inside the school the hallways are barren, harsh light shining brightly off tile floors. The muted voices of teachers occasionally break over the quiet echo of my footsteps on the green metal lockers. I don’t have a clue where to find Jenny.
I cut down a random wing, then another. Children’s artwork is pasted to a corkboard in the hall. It’s hard to believe my sister, an eighth grader who goes to goddamn middle school, could have betrayed me like this.
Where the hell is she?
I start to think I’m going to have to go to the principal’s office and fake an excuse to get Jenny out of class when the bell rings.
Recess.
Students pour into the hallways, laughing and chatting. I spot a head of ash-blond hair and dart through the crowd.
“Jenny!”
She goes rigid. A handful of kids spin around to stare at me. Jenny finds me, and the color drains from her face. She hikes her bag over her shoulder and tries to slip away, but I shove kids aside and grab her arm.
“What the hell, let me go!” Jenny says.
“Not a chance.”
“I don’t have time for this.” She tries to shake off my grip.
I dig my fingers in harder. “Then make it.”
“I have to meet my teacher.”
There’s a crowd of kids around us now. I let go of her arm.
“Okay, fine. We can do this right here if you want. You’re part of the Society.”
“What? I don’t know what you’re—”
“I found duckweed on your pants, so don’t deny it. You were at the swamp that night. You put that gift on my bed. You put the invite under my covers. And you lied to my damn face.”
There are shocked gasps around me, but I don’t care. All I care about is my rage. My betrayal.
Jenny’s face burns. She looks around frantically, then pulls me into an empty classroom. There’s a crepe paper alphabet border around the roof. It’s a child’s classroom, and for a half a second I feel bad for the way I’m treating her. But she’s no child.
She turns to me. “Okay, I know this looks bad, but it’s not what you think.”
It sounds so familiar my stomach curdles. I swallow my anger. “What do they have on you?”
She stares at the tiled floor and won’t meet my eyes.
“Come on, Jenny. You can tell me.” I’m sure it can’t be that bad. She’s too young to have something as horrible as Tucker’s secret, but she thinks it’s bad, which is all the Society needed to control her.
She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, shifts her weight. “I made a mistake. In the summer. I got drunk, and…there are pictures.”
“Pictures?” It’s all so twisted I can’t get my mind around it. “Like what? Drinking pictures?”
She shakes her head minutely.
“Puking pictures?” I try.
“No, Hope. It’s worse.”
And then the full horror of what she’s saying dawns on me. “Oh. Oh my God.”
Her cheeks are red, and she won’t meet my eyes.
I pace away from her, dragging a hand through my hair. Naked pictures. Jenny has naked pictures. I don’t know what to do, what to say.
“How, Jenny? Why?”
“I said I made a mistake,” she mutters.
I gesture uselessly. “When did this even happen?”
“In the summer. At Jarrod’s pool party. I had a crush on this guy named Matt. Chelsea Boyd got beer from her older sister, so we were drinking and—”
“Never mind,” I interrupt. It’s too disturbing to hear the details right now. I don’t know that it ever won’t be.
“How did you even get out to Honey Island? Don’t tell me you stole Mom’s car.”
“I got a ride,” she confesses, and I know there’s more to this story.
“From who?”
She won’t look at me.
“Tucker?” I say with mounting horror.
“I was just doing what they told me! We barely talked. It’s not like we…you know.”
“Oh my God! I wasn’t even thinking that, Jenny!”