done anything crazy yet?” Sylvia twists her face in mock horror. “Eat live bats in front of you? Bake small children into cookies? That girl is Addams Family insane.”
“Not yet, but I did find this in Lucy’s room. It’s a diary or something.” I pull out the papers I still have tucked in my back pocket. “Veronica Sullivan? That’s who is living upstairs from me? The weird girl?”
Right as Sylvia is about to reach out to take the thick packet of paper from me, her gaze shoots over my shoulder and her eyes widen in fear. I whip around, half expecting to find someone wielding a machete, and I briefly float with the taste of the rush.
There’s no machete, but a shadow slowly moving along the outside porch.
“Technically,” comes a musical voice from the shadow, a voice I can’t peg where I know it from. The shadow steps onto the ledge of the window opening and blocks the light of the fading sun. My stomach drops as I have a sickening idea of where this is headed. Standing in front of me are short blond curls, a beautiful face and scathing blue eyes. “You live downstairs from me.”
Screw me—it’s Veronica Sullivan.
“Is there anything else any of you would like to say about me?” she continues. “Because the proper thing to do would be to say it to my face.”
Veronica glares at us, waiting, in silence. She doesn’t enter the building, but stays atop the window ledge. She’s bold enough to look Miguel straight in the eye, then Sylvia and then eventually me.
“We didn’t mean anything by—” Sylvia starts.
“I don’t care.” Veronica’s blue eyes are so cold that I’m surprised we don’t see our breaths in the air.
I’ve got to admit, there aren’t many people who can make me feel like crap, but she just did and it’s an odd sensation to have in regards to a complete stranger.
“Where did you get that?” She jerks her chin toward the papers in my hand. From her tone, it’s clear she’s pissed.
The already strangling light is dimmed further when another shadow appears in the opening beside her. Nazareth Kravitz leans his back along the frame, watching us like he’s bored. A sixth sense tells me he’s actually sizing me up, which is bizarre because last I heard he’s one of those peace-at-all-costs people.
“Leo texted,” Kravitz says. “He was on the third floor and said we’re going to have guests.”
She glances at him, in a way that tells me something in his words bothers her.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“Where did you get those papers?” she asks me again.
“I found them.”
“Where?” she pushes.
“Is there a problem?” Kravitz’s voice pitches low.
Before she can answer they both whip their heads toward the parking lot and main road.
“The police are here!” someone yells, and sweet blood pumps wildly in my veins.
Footsteps pound against the tile floor as people rush for the exits. Miguel and Sylvia immediately jump out the nearest opening. Kravitz unhurriedly drops from his platform, and I look at Veronica again. She still stands there, watching me with that frozen glare, completely unaffected by everyone else running for their lives.
“Sawyer!” Sylvia calls. “Let’s go! They arrest people who are caught here.”
They do, but there’s an unspoken dare with how Veronica stays in her spot. As if she’s challenging me. As if she’s letting me know that in a contest of nerves, she’d win. Truth? The longer she stays there, the more my skin vibrates with that sweet rush. I want to accept her dare, her adrenaline-induced challenge.
“Sawyer!” Miguel shouts. “Let’s go!”
“Our parents will be pissed if we’re caught!” Sylvia is pulling on Miguel’s arm and her stare is yanking at me.
Mom
Lucy
I’m the responsible one.
Sylvia
Miguel
I’m supposed to do what is expected.
But I don’t want to turn away.
Damn.
Veronica tilts her head at me with a knowing smirk that I envy. One that crosses my face whenever I stand on the edge of a cliff, the one I wear when my heart is pumping so fast it feels like it might burst out of my chest. My high.
Her smirk is an affirmation that she won this round and that causes my respect for her to grow. I didn’t know this about her—I didn’t know she had balls of steel.
I break off the connection with Veronica and bolt through the window. A single siren wails, the cops’ only warning they’re on their way. I’m running now, and I’m fast. Faster than Sylvia, faster than Miguel. So fast that