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I look around over my shoulders, trying to determine if anyone is watching me. If there is something gross in my locker or anything that could jump out or spill over me, the Elites would likely be waiting nearby to watch it happen. But they’re nowhere in sight as far as I can tell. I consider not opening it at all just to be safe, but we’re studying for an exam in my next class and I need the book.
Bracing myself, I pull open the metal door. I jump slightly at the sight of a barbie doll hanging there by a noose. There’s a note dangling beside her. I yank them both down and quickly grab my book, not wanting anyone to see me freak out over the sight. I don’t want to give whoever did this that kind of satisfaction. I march off towards my next class, tossing the doll and noose into the garbage on the way.
I stash the note away in my backpack, refusing to let myself read it until after school. I just want to forget it even happened so I can focus on my schoolwork. Through some extreme form of dissociation, I manage to block the letter’s existence out of my head. By the time I’m walking to practice I think, I’ve made it this far without knowing what it says. Why not go a little longer?
The mystery of the letter is the perfect fuel for practice, spurring me on to run faster and harder. Once practice is over, I figure I’ve waited long enough. Brendan’s prediction about Spring coming soon was spot on, and the evening air is less chilly than usual. I sit on the bleachers alone after everyone else has gone inside to shower up and pull the folded note out of my backpack.
“What’s that?” Bridgett asks suddenly from over my shoulder, causing me to jump.
“It was in my locker today,” I reply. “Along with a doll on a noose. Do you know anything about it?”
“No,” she scoffs, looks offended. “Why would you think I’d know about it?”
“I didn’t mean to…accuse you or anything like that. I just didn’t know if you had overheard any of the Elites talking about leaving something like this for me,” I explain.
“I would’ve tried to warn you if I had,” she says, sitting down next to me. “What does it say?”
I hand the note over to her, more than ready to get it out of my hands. She reads over the cut and collaged letters spelling out a warning for me to watch my back and that I might not be so lucky next time.
“What the hell does that mean?” she winces.
“It has to be from whoever fucked with my car and almost killed me,” I tell her. “We can both take a pretty good guess at who might have done that.”
“Can we?”
“Oh, come on,” I huff. “You know Malcolm and the Elites are behind this. No offense, I know you’re technically one of them. But they’re not like you. They’re cruel and heartless, and they hate me.”
She nods and looks thoughtfully out over the track field. I wish I knew what she’s thinking, but it definitely doesn’t seem like she’s hiding anything. I believe her when she says she didn’t know anything about it.
“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “Uncle Liam has been keeping Malcolm so busy with Jameson Automobiles and their software company. I can’t imagine him taking time away from all that to send you death threats. Not saying he wouldn’t do something like that. It just doesn’t make sense right now…timing-wise.”
“What about Bernadette or one of the others?” I suggest. “I mean, Malcolm had time to beat that guy up in the cafeteria today. I can’t totally rule it out.” We sit, quietly contemplating everything for a moment, when suddenly I remember my food being tampered with after I chased Emmett down. “Hey, did you see anyone near my tray before you left the lunchroom today?”
“No, why?”
“It looked like there was something on it. Something that wasn’t there before,” I divulge, thinking I must sound crazy and paranoid.
“Holy shit,” she shakes her head in disbelief. “Someone’s really out to get you, Ophelia. Are you scared?”
I consider the question carefully. I feel on edge and nervous. But scared? When I think of scared, I think of Emmett holding me while his father groped me or having a gun
shoved in my face. Recording a hostage video pleading for my life. Maybe my perception is too skewed now, but it takes a lot for me to feel afraid these days.
“At least they warned me this time,” I laugh darkly. “Now I know to be on the lookout for someone trying to kill me. It’s considerate really…if you think about it.”
“Girl, that’s fucked-up,” she smirks. “That’s what I like to call Jameson humor.”
“Ha! I’m sure Emmett would appreciate that term,” I cry out, thinking it feels good to laugh. No matter how fucked-up the situation might be.
“Hey, I want to ask you something, but I don’t want you to take it the wrong way,” Bridgett says cautiously. “You don’t think…well…Emmett. He wouldn’t…would he?”
I stare at her blankly, not knowing what she means at first. She nudges the letter in my hands and then it clicks. “Leave me death threats!?” I shriek. “No, no way!”
“Oh, okay. Good,” she answers quickly. “I just…I don’t know. The way you described him before…I know he’s changed and everything, but…If you don’t think he could do something like that, I believe you.”
“Of course, he couldn’t!” I proclaim confidently, but a seed of doubt bounces around inside. The memory of all the torture and humiliation from before doesn’t just disappear, even if it does seem like it came from an entirely different person than the Emmett I have come to know and love. It’s hard to replay those images in my mind without thinking he could be capable of something like this. But why?
“Huh,” I blurt suddenly, panicking as I think it over more. “He was being so weird today. And he left early. The day of my accident…he left early then too.” I look over to Bridgett who is shooting me a sympathetic look, seeming to say: that doesn’t sound good.
