Page 77 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

And it’s true. I do know this. In fact, I haven’t been able to square it. I didn’t find the knife that he was apparently hiding. How did Marlene find that knife and I didn’t?

And it’s not a knife from the kitchen, either.

“I don’t know what I know,” I tell him. “I’m sorry, Coach. But I have to look out for the whole team now.”

His words from before every game, and I hope they hit him the right way. I nod to the love seat in the room, which he walks over to. Then Kaitlyn’s walking Ms. Dorman in, directing her to the same place. She doesn’t put up the kind of fight Coach did and instead just lowers herself onto the love seat.

“You’re making a mistake” is all she says. I avoid looking at her as Kaitlyn and I shut the doors.

I look at the grandfather clock in the corner: 3:23. A few hours to go until morning. I keep thinking of Emerson’s words.

Can’t wait until fucking four.

Why four? I still haven’t figured that one out, but I have to admit, it gives me hope. Hope that we really can make it out of this alive.

Which is maybe pretty dumb considering the guy who said it has fully disappeared. I can’t stop thinking about Emerson’s cocky bullshit. Even as I lock the door, securing McCullough and Dorman inside, I can see his smirk in my mind.

“Fucking asshole,” I mumble.

“Talking to yourself? That can’t be a good sign.”

I look behind me, and Kaitlyn is perched at the edge of the stairs, watching me.

“You really think McCullough killed these people?” I ask Kaitlyn. “Jay was McCullough’s favorite recruit. Javi was his favorite on the baseball team. And Lucas…He wouldn’t have attacked him. He had Lucas film all of our games, which helped us get sponsors we wouldn’t have had otherwise.”

Kaitlyn doesn’t answer. Not right away. Instead, she gives me the same look she gave me when we both knew our breakup was inevitable but neither of us wanted to admit it.

“I think that you like to ignore the obvious,” Kaitlyn says. “And you are always so determined to see the best in people that you make excuses for them.”

I shouldn’t be surprised that she turned my question into a dig. I ignore it, forcing myself to take a breath and remember she’s going through her own shit.

“Honestly, I’m shocked you actually did something,” she says. “I guess since Javi’s not here, you had no choice.”

Now I still.

“What’d you say?”

She shrugs. “Letting Javi take the fall after you attacked Warren.”

Shock ripples through me. How the hell does she know I’m the one who went after Warren?

“Javi told me, obviously,” she says, rolling her eyes. “He told me not to tell you I knew, but, well, he’s gone, isn’t he? I honestly couldn’t believe you let them punish him for that. But I guess you’re the golden boy and we couldn’t ruin that.”

“I tried to tell them it was me,” I say, which is the truth, and she has to know that. “I told Javi I’d take the fall. But he said—”

“It was better if he did, right?” she says, a cold laugh bubbling out of her mouth. “Javi always put other people first. Jumped in to pull you off Warren and got cut up anyway. And guess who had to clean those wounds, Caulder? ’Cause you sure as hell didn’t.”

I hate every word she’s saying. I hate them even more because they’re true.

“He’s stubborn,” I say, then catch myself. He was stubborn.

Fuck.

“He knew people saw him the way they wanted to,” she says, every syllable an ice pick. “And he was sick of trying to prove to them that he wasn’t that way. Everyone saw him as the tough asshole dating the evil bitch, didn’t they? But he was never that way. And you let them believe he was.”

“I didn’t,” I say. “I tried—”

“You should’ve tried harder,” she bites out. “You don’t get it, do you? And I’ll be honest. I didn’t get it, either. But what Javi deals with day in and day out just because of people’s bullshit stereotypes and not-so-subtle racism is unreal. Just think about Emerson and all the shit he was throwing at Javi. Shit he thinks he gets to throw because of this exact same narrative that you let admin and everyone else spin.