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What does it mean?
She wouldn’t just put those numbers there for no reason, right?
This book wasn’t just a diary. She hid that page on purpose so the guys wouldn’t find it, which means it contains a message. A message she wanted me to find.
“What are you trying to tell me, Eve?” I mutter in the bathroom stall.
“Penelope?”
I hold my breath.
“Pen? It’s me. Kayla.” She knocks on my door.
I sigh and get up, closing the diary before I turn the lock.
“Hey,” she says, peeking through. “Are you okay?”
I shake my head and walk out of the stall to take a much-needed drink at the sink by sticking my head under the faucet. After I’ve swallowed my sip, I say, “You were right about those guys. I should’ve stayed away, and I didn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want to be. I just didn’t want you to get hurt.” She rubs my back.
“They never told me they fucked around with my sister and then broke up with her right before the bonfire.”
She rubs her lips together. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know they were an item too. Her death bothers you a lot, doesn’t it?”
I nod at her through the mirror. “I can’t stop looking through the diary, wondering what I missed. If I could …” I rub my forehead. “If I could just talk to her and ask.”
She pulls me in for a hug.
“I’m sorry, girl. I know it’s been rough on you,” she says. “Those guys play with everyone’s heads. It’s what they do. They destroy everything in their path, starting with your sister and ending with you.”
I suck in a heavy breath. “I was there when she jumped.”
“You couldn’t have stopped her. She’d made up her mind already,” she says.
“How do you know?” I ask.
She pulls me back and looks me in the eyes. “Tilda told me she heard Eve crying in the bathroom before the bonfire.”
I frown. “Tilda? Tilda was there that night?”
She nods. “Not at the bonfire, but at the sorority. From what Tilda told me, it sounded like Eve just had a huge argument in the dean’s office.”
My pupils dilate. “Wait … the dean’s office? You’re sure?”
“Tilda doesn’t lie about those things. It broke her to realize she might’ve been one of the last ones to talk to Eve.” She averts her eyes. “Before she …”
I swallow and turn toward the mirror again, staring at myself.
At the image of my own sister’s face reflecting right back at me.
303.
The numbers.
My eyes widen.
I slam the diary onto the sink and open the first page, where I placed the torn paper.
303.
“What’s that?” Kayla mutters as she peeks over my shoulder. “Is that … Eve’s?”
I flip through the diary until I find the warning written on the pages. The warning I thought was meant for me.
Don’t stop.
Don’t look back.
Don’t fall.
Run.
303.
It wasn’t just a warning.
It’s the fucking key.
I turn and grab Kayla’s arm. “What room is the dean’s office? What’s the number?”
She looks distressed. “I don’t know. Uh … three? Maybe?”
“What floor?”
“Third,” she says.
And it’s all I need to know.
I peck Kayla on the cheek. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“You’re welcome, I guess?” she mutters, confused.
I shut the diary and stuff it into my bag, then run off.
“Penelope!” Kayla yells as she follows me out of the bathroom. “Where are you going?”
“I need to know something. I’ll talk to you later,” I holler over my shoulder. “Thank you!”
I run through the hallways of the main building, pushing past people who obviously seem pissed off that I’m butting in. But I can’t wait any longer now that I know my sister left these clues in there on purpose. She wanted me to find out about her being in the dean’s office that night.
But what happened in there?
What did he say to her?
Or did something else occur?
The thought of him hurting her sets me off as I rush up the stairs as fast as possible. First floor. Second floor. Third floor.
My heart is racing in my throat, and I take a moment to catch my breath before I walk toward his office. The number 303 sits on a plaque on top of the wood, drawing me in like a moth to a flame as my hand curls around the door handle.
To my surprise, it’s not locked.
Maybe Dylan’s father forgot the last time he was here.
I open the door and step inside. The musty air invades my nostrils as I close the door behind me and look around. Dust covers the shelves of his bookcase, and I look through them to see if I can find any reports on my sister. So far, none match her name.
I go over to his desk and sit down behind it, turning on the computer. Sweat beads roll down my back as I wait for it to start. When the home button appears, I immediately open his mailbox and search for my sister’s name to see if he’s had any contact with her.
