They All Fall Down - Roxanne St. Claire Page 0,83

enough not to have to tell her any of the bits and pieces I learned overnight.

A few blocks from my house, Levi picks me up on his bike and rides me to school, but Vienna High is like a ghost town. At least half the student population is out, taking any excuse—like the deaths of two more girls on the infamous Hottie List—to cut class. He pulls into the junior lot but doesn’t get off the bike after he parks.

“Aren’t you going to school?” I ask.

“I have something else to do.” The tone in his voice snags my attention as I climb off and remove my helmet.

“What?”

He takes off his helmet, too, his mussed hair making my hand ache to smooth it. “Just some stuff.”

The vague response hurts and when I look away to hide the impact, he touches my chin, turning my face back to his. “I have to go find out what’s going on.”

“How? What are you going to do?”

It’s his turn to look away. “I’m just going to talk to a few people. Maybe look around the woods.”

“Without me?”

He chokes out a wry, mirthless laugh. “Yes, without you. Don’t you realize how unsafe you are right now? You should have stayed home.”

“Home is the number one place for accidents to happen,” I say, quoting my mother. “I’m better off in school.”

But the truth is, I’m not better off anywhere. I’m next. And we both know it.

“This has to end, Kenzie,” he says softly.

“Are you going to talk to the police?”

He shakes his head. “I can’t, and I don’t think it will help anyway. Maybe tomorrow, but I have to—there’s someone I have to talk to.”

“Who?” I demand, but he stays maddeningly quiet. “Josh? Rex? Jarvis?”

“Just give me a few hours, okay? And watch your back. And your front. And whoever is next to you.”

I step closer to him. “I want that to be you.”

He brushes some hair off my face, his fingers warm. “It is and it will be.” Then he kisses me long enough for me to hold on to that promise as I head into school.

The few kids who are in the halls openly stare at me, some with sympathy, some with curiosity, all with sadness. I ignore them and go to the locker bay, which is quiet and empty when I get there. While I’m facing the still-closed door, I hear soft footsteps behind me.

As much as I want to spin around and see who it is, I don’t want any more looks that say You’re next, Fifth.

“Kenzie?”

At the sound of Molly’s voice, I pivot, meeting her sad gaze. She looks so wrecked I almost collapse on the spot. “Molly,” I whisper, my voice cracking.

She hesitates and searches my face, her eyes swollen and red. I know she’s been crying. Wordlessly, she walks over and folds me in a hug.

“I’m sorry.” We say the words at exactly the same time, in the same voice. Any other time, we’d laugh. But today, we just hug tighter. I don’t know if she’s sorry we had such a horrible fight or that Amanda and Kylie have died or what, but I don’t care. I just hold on to her.

“You okay?” she finally asks, pulling away.

I shudder as I shrug a nonanswer.

“What happened?” she asks.

“I don’t know any more than you probably do,” I say.

“They committed suicide? Why?”

I don’t believe that for a minute, but the rumor mill says the police found a double-suicide note taped to the end of Seneca Bridge, which is a good twenty miles from Vienna. Amanda’s car had been deliberately driven over the bridge, and both she and Kylie had drowned. The doors were locked and they were still in their seat belts, though none of this had been officially released. It all came from a friend of a friend of a friend who knew somebody in the Vienna Police Department.

“I saw them a couple of hours before,” I tell her. “They were fine.”

“Another private party?” she asks, unable to keep the bitter note out of her voice.

“Molly—”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. I’m really sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry?” I grab her arms again. “Molly, that was so awful, and there’s so much you don’t understand.”

“Clearly.”

I squeeze a little, a thousand ways to say this playing in my mind. “I think there’s a—”

“Curse? I’ve heard about it.”

“I’m not buying the curse theory,” I say. “But the believers insist that your number’s up if you tell anyone what I’m about to tell you.”

“Then

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