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Arlet flashes a look to me and then approaches Hunter. “I’ll ride with you,” she tells him.
He slams the trunk shut and nods, not looking at her. She was the one close to him in the lunchroom on Monday. Are they together?
She hops in the car, and he moves toward the driver’s side. He looks over the hood at me, but I speak up before he can tell me what to do. “I’ll meet you there,” I say.
He tips his chin at me, and everyone takes off, Hunter climbing into his car. I see him adjust the rearview mirror as I pull on my helmet.
He shoots off down the street, after his friends, and I grab hold of my handlebars, flipping up the kickstand.
But as soon as he rounds the corner, racing off out of sight, I kill the engine and pull off my helmet. Taking out my phone, I dial Kade.
“You okay?” he asks.
“They’re heading to your house.”
He’s quiet for a moment, and I hear music and a dozen conversations going on in the background. Sounds like he’s at Rivertown.
“They…” he murmurs. “Is Hunter with them?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.”
He hangs up, and I tuck my phone away again, slipping on my helmet. That probably wasn’t the nicest thing to do, but Hunter’s plan had a predictable outcome. Now it doesn’t.
And the Rebels are forgetting... I’m still a Pirate.
Squeezing the handles, I speed off, my engine reverberating through Knock Hill before descending down into the mill district. I turn onto River Road, speeding past fishermen and crumbling boathouses. When I curve left, onto the same bridge I crossed Sunday night, I hesitate only a moment before I dig in my pocket for a coin and flip it over the side, down to the sunken car.Pay to pass.
I wonder if anyone ever dives down to rob her ghost. There has to be a couple of hundred dollars down there, considering I never see anyone pay in pennies. As if the more you pay, the more good grace you’ll buy. It doesn’t make sense, though. To give a Pirate girl that much reverence. I wonder how the tradition started at all.
Exiting the bridge, I turn left, and run parallel to the river again, keeping my speed down since I don’t have my license on me.
Plus, I want to keep the Rebels far enough ahead so that they’ve turned right off High Street, toward the Caruthers’ house, before they see me head in the opposite direction. My necklace was never at Hunter and Kade’s house. I simply wanted to get them together, but since Hunter decided to bring everyone, he can walk into the ambush I have no doubt Kade will have waiting.
Making my way into town, I slow a little, on the lookout for my parents’ cars. I pass Rivertown, not seeing Kade’s truck or any of his friends, which means they’ve bolted to his house already to head off Hunter.
I race by the unremarkable expanse of red brick between Rivertown and Frosted, Quinn’s bakery, only me and a handful of other people knowing the old speakeasy that hides between the two businesses. Quinn doesn’t know yet. Rivertown’s owner doesn’t know. Hunter doesn’t know.
Reaching theStopsign, I see no sight of the Rebels and swing left, kicking it up a gear, and then another. I quickly cut a sharp right into the empty school parking lot.
The moon gleams white off the second-story windows, and I race around the stadium, skidding to a halt in front of the same door that Aro and I broke into on Sunday night.
Parking, I hop off the bike and dig in my pocket for a pick set.Please, please, please…Reaching the door, I slide the pieces in, find the lever, and hold my breath as I nudge it. I twist the handle, the door opens, and I smile at how proud Aro would be.
Slipping the tools back into my pocket, I whip open the door and step inside with a little spin, closing it behind me. I jog down the hall, opening the flashlight on my phone and pushing into the locker room. I move toward Aro’s and my locker, dialing in the combination and opening the black steel door. I flash my light on the green ribbon and grab the necklace with a fossil of my mom’s childhood thumbprint that no one ever actually wears. I stuff it into my jeans pocket and slam the locker door, running back the way I came in.
I grip the locker room door handle and yank.
But it doesn’t open.
My heart skips.
I pull harder. “What the fuck?” I whisper.
I tug again and again, the locker room door I just came in through is now locked.
I press my ear to the door, hearing the squeak of someone’s shoes against the floor on the other side.
