Page 15 of Wicked Games

My attention was glued to the floor.

“There wasn’t a bracelet in here.”

Tears filled my eyes. “I put it?—”

“I’m sorry, Margo, but…” She glanced around, throwing up her hands. “I don’t know. We have to get you to the respite house.”

She dragged me out. I barely registered where we were going through the tears, but then I was in the car, hugging my belongings to my chest.

I couldn’t put into words what that bracelet meant to me. It was the only thing tethering me to what felt like a life drifting farther and farther away.

My time with the DiMarios? Easily erased.

How did they manage to do it so efficiently? It’s evil the way kids like me could be wiped off the map. Didn’t like her attitude?Boom, gone.

Like I never even existed in the first place.

Present

It’s impossible to do anything except count cracks in the ceiling. The music is full blast, and the sounds of a million people layer on top of it. I tried scrolling Instagram, checking emails, listening to my own music…

Nothing drowns out the noise.

I can’t do this. I can’t just hide upstairs, waiting for it to end. I can only imagine the students downstairs. Classmates. And I wouldn’t put it past Ian to tell them I was up here, if only so word gets back to Caleb.

Caleb.

I stand and check my reflection. I had taken off my makeup sometime last night, so my complexion is clear. It is a littleweird, not having the armor that mascara and eyeliner affords me.

The walls are closing in on me. My restlessness is growing, until I can’t stay in here a moment longer.

The odds of Caleb being here are slim… right?

I pull on a hoodie from Ian’s closet—the least I deserve—and cover my head. There’s not much I can do about my face, except let my hair half conceal it. Once my boots are on, I slip my phone into the hoodie pocket and crack the door.

The music is even louder in the hallway.

Remembering Ian’s warning, I close his door behind me and try to act inconspicuous. There’s a line for the bathroom, and people lingering in the hall, but no one throws me a second glance.

Maybe Iamincognito—I make it all the way downstairs and to the back door without notice. There’s no sign of anyone I’m friendly with anyway. No Riley, no Jacq. Eli or Liam would surely call me out, same with Amelie or Savannah.

And yet, I slip through unscathed. I open the door and step out onto the porch, inhaling a deep breath. The cold air is invigorating. Better than the warmth inside.

“Margo.” Caleb leans on the house. He’s in the shadows, but I’d recognize him anywhere.

Of course he’s here.

Not only that—of course he’soutside. Right where I’ve come for an ounce of relief.

I wonder if that’s how he feels when he looks at me, too, or if every tender moment has been a fabrication. Is loathing all that exists between us?

“I’m trying to convince myself not to carry you out of here.” His words are dark.

I go to the railing. I don’t care to look at him. His words to my foster parents, how heblamedme for their daughter’s death,echoes in my ears. So, no, I won’t look at him. I can barely stand to hear his voice.

“How’s that going?” I put my forearms on the painted wood, leaning my weight on it. It smells like snow. Still a bit early in the year, but it could happen.

Anything could happen.

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