Page 60 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

Shit. I told Lucas to delete this. The second he came to me and told me what he’d caught, I told him it better not ever see the light of day. And he promised me—swore on his channel—that he had.

“Avery, I had no idea,” I say. “I mean, that’s not true. Lucas told me. But I told him to delete it. I thought he did.”

Her eyes are wide. She’s shell-shocked, Lucas’s phone teetering precariously in her fingertips.

“It doesn’t matter,” she says. “We agreed it never happened, right? It never happened. It was a mistake.”

I want to tell her that we didn’t agree to that. She went to her room after an incredible fucking kiss and then told me the next morning that it never happened, to forget it, that it was a mistake. She didn’t give me a choice.

“I’ll just delete it,” she says, and she can’t be serious, can she? Not after tonight. She has to realize that—

But as she goes to delete, she swipes to the next video. And it’s her in a hallway again, but I’m not there this time.

Mr. Jay is.

Thankfully, they’re not doing what Avery and I were doing. They’re arguing. It’s the same argument I heard in person—I must be around the corner—and it’s just as awful replayed on video.

“It’s about charm and charisma. Two things you’ll never have,” he’s telling her. He looks wild, eyes jumping back and forth, pacing the hall, then returning to stab his finger in her face.

I hate that the Avery on the screen is crying. I hate that she looks shattered. I hate that he is doing this to her. I could kill him for it, until I remember he’s already dead.

“You said you believed in me,” she says, lip quivering. “You said I had potential.”

“Clearly, I was wrong,” he says. “All you are is excuses.”

He turns to walk away. This is when I left also. This is when I thought the conversation was over, when I realized Avery could turn around at any moment and walk down the hall and see me. But Lucas followed her—his camera tracks her in the video, zooms in so he stays far enough away. It watches as she steps up behind Jay and hits him on the shoulder, causing him to whirl around.

“I defended you!” she snarls. “There was a guy tonight. He said his older brother went to school with you at USC. He told me to be careful around you.”

For the first time in the video, Mr. Jay looks unmoored. His expression twists, and when he speaks, it’s with slow, measured words.

“Be careful, Avery,” he says. “Spreading rumors is a dangerous thing.”

“He said you went after young girls,” she says, breathing hard. “He said you’re a creep. He said they wouldn’t want someone like you hanging around high schoolers.”

Now he holds up his hands as he walks toward her, and she backs away. “Avery, you can’t just make stuff up about someone. I’m a human being. I have a reputation.”

“A reputation that’s clearly bullshit,” she says. “What else are you hiding? What else have you done?”

“Avery,” he says. “Let’s think this through.”

“You’re despicable,” she snaps. “I wish you’d never come to this school. I wish you were dead.”

The video cuts out, leaving me and Avery in silence. I look at her, at the darkness in her eyes.

At the phone that contains the video showing that, twenty-four hours before he was murdered, she said she wanted Mr. Jay dead.

Chapter 32

Kaitlyn

October 17

2:28 a.m.

Somehow, I didn’t think Emerson could get more punchable. After you’ve heard someone recite their audition tape for some reality show called Lifestyles of the Babes of the Famous, you sort of think they’ve reached their unbearable peak. But not Emerson Butler. No, apparently he just needed a stab wound and a rainstorm to turn from a 9.5 on the scale to a 20.

“Completely ruined,” he says, tugging on the side of his pajama pants. “Cashmere. Private designer collection, too. A capsule piece according to my stylist. And now, look at them. Though, I guess, once we survive, they’ll become a sort of souvenir. Maybe I could even sell them.”