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My fingers curl in and out because the need is to shout. To throttle her because she knows this club is legit, that they never would have killed anyone, but then there’s a question in the back of my head. A lingering doubt. My mom. I have to swallow the hurt tightening my throat.
Something caused Violet to walk away from her family, and whatever that something is, I wonder if it’s on the same level of agony as my mother.
Violet hugs herself and she looks so damn pathetic that my chest aches. I swear under my breath, then wrap my arms around her. Her shoulders shake and each deep breath she takes to keep from crying causes the anger inside me to build. My heart breaks for her, for the friendship that’s been floundering this past year, and for how Breanna must also be emotionally crumbling.
“I’m going to fix this,” I say as I hold my best friend. “I promise I’m going to fix this for both you and Breanna.”
Breanna
I AM NEVER using public Wi-Fi again. I researched what Razor told me last night after we hung up and it’s frightening how unsafe technology is. Razor divulged his scheme and I’ve been worrying since over this insane plan. He has the simple part. He sits back and types. I, on the other hand, have to speak with the devil.
Nervous adrenaline leaks into my system as the bell to the diner rings. I walk in and, as he promised, Razor’s in the corner working intently at his laptop and, like clockwork, Kyle is on the opposite side of the diner eating lunch with his friends.
This is what Razor has been doing for the past couple of weeks—following Kyle. Understanding his routines and rhythms. Kyle doesn’t seem to know that Razor has his life dissected and documented to the minute.
My cell vibrates. It’s Razor. Don’t look so terrified. He touches you and I’ll stick this dull steak knife through his skull.
Me: It’s not him touching me I’m afraid of.
Razor: Is it me you’re afraid of touching you? If so, I promise you’ll like it.
My temperature jumps to triple digits. Razor touching me. It hasn’t happened yet beyond a few careless brushes of his body against mine while in physics. Regardless, my imagination goes to places beyond him caressing my face or holding my hand and beyond PG-13. I suck in a
breath to regain a logical train of thought. Me: I’m afraid he’ll find out what we are about to do.
Razor: All the same. You say the word, I’ll use the knife. Or say the word, we leave now and I’ll give you that ride we keep talking about.
I never know if he’s joking. Me: Let’s stick to the plan.
Razor: You’re no fun. All work and no play...
I smile, and when I peek at him, his eyes are still glued to the screen, but he’s grinning, too. Digging deep for courage, I choose the side of the diner Kyle and his friends are at, select a booth by myself and study the menu. There’s no way I could eat anything without regurgitating.
“Hey.” Kyle slithers into my booth. Per part of the plan, I texted Kyle last night and asked if we could meet to discuss his paper, and like Razor thought he would, Kyle suggested the diner. It’s scary how everything Razor said would happen is coming to fruition.
“Hi.” I make a point of looking over my shoulder at Razor. “I didn’t know Thomas would be here.”
Razor’s real name feels weird on my tongue.
“He’s been coming here for a few weeks. Waitress says he comes for the Wi-Fi, which makes sense. I heard he lives in a box of a place in the middle of nowhere.”
Reception is sketchy for everyone in town, which is why Kyle doesn’t question a thing—whenever any of us comes into the diner, we switch to the Wi-Fi because it’s reliable.
I fiddle with the napkin. Razor said to act as if I’m terrified of him and I thought it would be hard to do. But it turns out it’s easy to act afraid, because I am—of Kyle.
“Are you sure we should be in the same place as him?” Razor’s suggestion for me to say. Reverse psychology.
“It’s good for him to know he’s not in control. Besides, I thought you two were best friends.” Kyle extends his arm along the back of the seat.
“He’s too intense, plus he’s mad at me.” I glance over my shoulder again like I’m worried.
“Are you okay?” His question is part concern, part confusion. Like he actually cares about my well-being.
Please buy my lie. “If I tell you, you’re going to tell everyone at school, then it’ll be on Bragger, and then he’ll really be mad.”
Kyle’s eyes dart over my face. Get him to trust you, Razor had said. I read an article that said people bond quickly over two things: gossip and joint misery. If it’s true, then gossiping about how Razor’s bothering me ought to be a friendship gold mine.
Kyle plops his arms on the table, encompassing too much space. “I won’t tell anyone.”
