“What are we going to do?” Kinley asked. She was facing forward, and her hair was curly and wild from the storm. “Seriously, what are we going to do?”
It was the first time Ivy had heard the real pinch of stress in her voice. And it made the feeling in Ivy’s chest even tighter, made her sure that it was only a matter of time before this all blew up in their faces and they were rotting away in prison, their lives ruined. She imagined herself in twenty years, her face lined and aged, her hair a bunch of dried feathers against her orange jumpsuit.
She deserved it. After how she’d acted in her life, she deserved it.
“We make a pact,” Cade says. “We make a real pact. Right here, right now.”
“What?” Tyler asked. “We’re not a damn babysitters club.”
Tyler was right. But Ivy knew that it was bigger than that. More important.
It was life and death.
Ivy leaned forward in her seat. “He’s right. No one can talk.”
She looked back at Cade, and he began to speak.
“If one of us talks, we’re all screwed. So we agree. No one does. And if anyone as much as says a word—not just to the cops, but anyone—your mother, your brother, your best friend—then we turn you in. The rest of us band together and ruin you. If any of you even considers telling anyone what really happened tonight, you’re gone. You take the fall and the rest of us back it.”
“Yeah,” Kinley said breathily. She cleared her throat. “Yeah, that sounds fair.”
“I’m in,” Mattie said. His voice trembled.
“Shit. Yeah, me too.” Tyler brushed his wet hair back from his forehead.
“Ivy?” Cade asked. “Are you in?”
Ivy stared at the faces of her classmates. She was mean. That was for sure. Everyone knew it. She was a horrible, horrible person. But to be part of hiding a murder and getting rid of a body?
She was every goddamn bit as horrible as everyone always said she was.
“I’m in,” she said. She hated herself for saying it. But some things had to be done. “And we need a good alibi other than a barn and each other.”
“And that’s what?” Tyler asked. “Studying?” He shot a look at Mattie.
“No,” Ivy said. She sat up a little straighter. “Hey, Kinley. Can you drive us to the movies? We can sneak in the back and it’ll look like we’ve been there the whole time. If we hurry, we can catch the late show.”
“What’s playing?” Mattie asked, his voice faint.
“Who cares?” Cade asked.
“What about tickets?” Kinley asked. “They’ll know we snuck in.”
Ivy glared at her. “That’s right. They’ll know. And we’ll be seen leaving. And at worst, we’ll have to shell out ten bucks apiece or we’ll get in trouble over seeing a free movie. But if anyone asks, people will know we were there. At the movie theater. Tonight.”
Kinley held up her hands. “Okay, fine. Got it.”
They returned to the barn and used an old farm spigot to wash the mud from their shoes, and for Tyler, half his body. And then they were on the way to town, the air conditioner blasting to dry them off, cracking their windows whenever the rain slowed.
Kinley parked in the alley, and Ivy showed them what she’d only ever shown Klaire and Garrett before: the perfect, sneaky way to get into the theater without being seen. There were two doors that opened into a basement, and stairs from the basement that led directly into the back of the theater, right next to the rows that no one ever chose because they were too near the giant air-conditioning vents.
When Ivy and Garrett snuck in, they’d wear giant, fat sweaters and scarves and spend the entire show snuggling. Ivy would put her head on his shoulder and he’d wrap her up in his arms and she was happy, happy like she’d never felt.
This . . . this was different.
The group slid silently into the aisles, unnoticed. There was barely anyone in the theater. A lone man ate big handfuls of buttered popcorn in very middle, and a couple in the front row was already making out so heavily there was no way they’d notice if a bomb went off, let alone a few extra people slipping in to escape a murder charge.
Ivy stared at them. The movie was a stupid comedy, so she watched the man eating popcorn and the kissing couple. And she envied them.
A few months ago, she wouldn’t have imagined going to a movie alone on a Friday night. Now, she wanted to trade places with the man. With anyone.
“Are you okay?” Mattie whispered.
“Great.”
She realized she was crying again.
Mattie
Friday, June 12
“Make a scene as you leave,” hissed Kinley, grabbing Mattie’s sleeve. “We need people to remember we were here.”