Total pages in book: 147
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 704(@200wpm)___ 563(@250wpm)___ 469(@300wpm)
That seems like a trick question. If I say yes, she’ll know I’ve already alerted the police. I take a sip of water to ease the dryness in my throat.
“What are you going to do to me?” I ask.
“I’m not sure yet,” she says. “I’m not sure I can bring myself to kill you.” She looks at John. “But he will.” John’s grip tightens on the magazine, but he doesn’t look up. “I have too much dirt on John and too much money for him to disobey me. Maybe I am a Barlow, after all.”
“You were my friend. I loved you. I—”
“Not enough!” she shouts and bangs the gun against her knee, making me flinch.
“What is enough for you, Mallory?” I demand. “I invited you into my home, I took you to my mother’s house for the holidays, I listened to you and comforted you and—”
“I WANTED MORE! I wanted you to notice me!” she yells, her voice shaking slightly with emotion.
“I didn’t know!” I respond and stop talking when my tongue starts to feel heavy.
I lift my hand to wipe my face again, but it feels like I’m trying to move a boulder. Panic spreads through me. This can’t be happening. This can’t be happening. I turn my face and notice Tate is slumped against the couch, passed out. Everything is spinning and seems to be going in slow motion, but I manage to look at Mallory again.
“I had to drug the water to keep you from trying to leave,” she says, answering my question. “Don’t worry, you won’t lose consciousness this time.”
This time. This time. A tingle spreads through my body, leaving goosebumps on my flesh. A sob threatens to shut my airways.
“It was you,” I whisper. “You were the one who drugged me at Onyx that night.”
The expression on her face confirms it. I feel so sick. I pitch forward as I start to heave. Nothing but spit comes out, but my movements propel me off the couch, toward the coffee table. I fall in a thump, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. My vision blurs with new tears. I think about all the times I tried to be a good friend to her. All those nights I declined to go out with my teammates because she was having a bad day and needed a friend. The times I bailed on Tate because she was depressed and didn’t want to see anyone.
“I took you home,” Mallory says, her voice far, far away. “Got you there safely and didn’t touch you. Much.”
I feel queasy and heave again. And again. Nothing comes out.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t do anything too crazy,” she says. “I guess you’ve bewitched us all, Joss.”
“People only like the idea of me,” I say, or try to say. My words come out garbled. Still, I try again. “People only like the idea of me. You have to know that.”
I can’t make out her response, and soon, everything goes dark.
58
FINN
Istand up after tying my skates and hop once, then again. I haven’t been able to check my phone all day, and I smile when I see a text Josslyn sent me a few hours ago.
Josslyn: Indidfudhf
I frown and try to decipher it. It has to be some kind of acronym. After a moment, I text back.
Me: is that an acronym?
Me: coach is walking in. i’ll call you when i finish. I love you
Coach P starts talking, so I put my phone down and check the tape on my stick as I turn around to listen. He gives us the usual rundown, pep talk, and we’re off. We haven’t lost a game since Carolina, so we’re in a winning mindset. I score Bar Down right out of the gate, and not long after, Hammie scores. At intermission, we’re winning 3–0 and feeling pretty confident.
“Barlow cheesed the fuck out of the goalie,” one of my teammates says laughing.
“Don’t take your eyes off 85,” Coach P says. “He can dangle and he had that deke on you, Fletch.”
Dame nods. “I’ll stay on him.”
Another teammate laughs. “85 has eggs in his pockets.”
“Coach P is right,” I say after downing the drink I’m given. “He can dangle. His passing execution is off, though.”
“Yeah, it’s like he loses concentration when he’s right in front of Lundy.”
We talk strategy for a couple of minutes before everyone goes off to do their own thing—retape, bathroom, etc. Once I’m done with my tape, I check my phone. I don’t always do it during intermission, but I had no one to check on before.
“Dude, it’s official-official,” Lundy says behind me. “Barlow’s off the market.”
I frown and shoot him a questioning look over my shoulder.
He laughs. “Do you not look at your girlfriend’s accounts?”
“He doesn’t stalk her like Froggy,” another player says, and I automatically look for Froggy because what the fuck?