Holland get away with this.
Fear scraped at Daniel’s voice. We can’t let Holland hurt you any more than he already has.
Daniel was worried about me. And despite everything else, a glow ignited somewhere beneath my ribs, and I tucked it away for later.
But for now I was arguing with my father.
We need one more day. Give us time to look through Grassi’s office, talk to the kids a little more. We’ll leave by tonight, I promise. Even if we find nothing, just one more day.
I could picture Daniel clenching his fists.
Fine. But you’re leaving tonight, if I have to drag you out myself.
A muffled burst of static, then Lucas came on.
He’s too upset to talk. But he trusts you. I trust you. You’re almost there.
I was pretty worried about Lucas, too. Holland knew he wasn’t sick—he knew that Lucas was lying. How long before he tracked him down? For all we knew, the cabin in the mountains was the first place he’d look.
Anything else from Tim? I asked.
I haven’t been able to reach him, Lucas replied. It could be because he wants to be left alone, as usual. Or it could be because something’s wrong.
I had no human siblings, but I knew there would be nothing like the pain of losing a brother.
And I knew there was nothing I could say to comfort Lucas, though I longed to.
Good luck with everything, I said.
You too. Be safe. A hesitation, and then a soft Please.
I will. See you tomorrow.
Only one more day to right some terrible wrongs: for Sarah, for the grant kids, for Lucas, for Hunter, for me.
NINETEEN
Samuel and I waited in the cafeteria for the others. Something crashed to the ground behind us, and we both jumped.
“Sorry,” said a student sheepishly, picking up the tray he’d dropped.
Samuel released a tense breath. We were both on edge. Any loud sound was potentially Grassi or the dean, coming for us with questions about where we’d been last night, and why.
And that was before Abby arrived with Celia and Sharon.
Sharon walked with her usual athletic bounce, but I could see the telltale signs of fatigue in her puffy eyes, her waxy skin, her unbrushed hair. Now that we knew how she spent her nights, it wasn’t shocking that she was tired. It was shocking that she could play any sports at all.
Celia, though, was another story. She wasn’t one of the grant kids—she was just their friend. She should have had a good night’s sleep. But here she was, her eyes rimmed pink, her shirt on inside out.
“Are you okay?” I asked Celia when she sat down next to me.
“I guess so. It’s just . . . Hannah’s gone.”
Samuel met my concerned gaze over Celia’s head. “Gone? What do you mean?”
“She sent me an email in the middle of the night—it was waiting for me when I woke up. She said she was sick and her dad came to get her. But she’s not coming back.”
“Never? Why? What about the Watson Grant?” I asked, stunned.
Celia sniffled. “She just said that it wasn’t worth it anymore. She could go to any school, I guess. She doesn’t need a scholarship to this one.”
It was probably true, I thought. But Hannah would always have that chip in her neck—did it mean that Holland could call her back at any time? I wasn’t sure a student could ever really get away.
Celia sounded crushed. “I just want to talk to her,” she said. “Make sure she’s all right. But I tried to call, and her phone went straight to voice mail.” Celia put her head in her hands. “This happened last year, too. I swear, I’m a jinx.”
“What do you mean?” I said, guessing before she answered.
“It happened last year, too. To that Sarah girl that I told you about. I mean, I barely knew her, but she was nice. She started acting weird, too, though, just before she left. And no one ever heard from her again. What if it’s something I did? What if it’s all my fault?”
Sharon put an arm around her friend, seeming like the stronger of the two. “Come on, let’s go get you some pancakes,” she said kindly. Only I knew that one of these days, Sharon could be the girl who disappeared. The students at Montford thought the Watson Grant was only for the lucky kids, but I knew it was a sort of curse.
They headed for the food lines, while I struggled not to scream. Don’t panic.
Don’t. Panic.
“Don’t panic,” Samuel