Page 50 of Wicked Games

Heat crawls up my neck. “I didn’t want to freak you out.”

“Give it to me.”

I wince, then open my phone to Unknown’s conversation.

She scrolls through it, getting paler by the second. “Fucking hell, Margo. You kept this a secret?”

“I didn’t want to drag you into it,” I whisper. “I mean… I don’t know who it is.”

The overwhelming majority of messages in that thread are from Unknown—my rare replies don’t seem to dissuade them.

“They were the ones who took the video? And leaked it.”

I sigh.

“And they sent the picture of you and Ian…” She purses her lips. “Wait. So they were at school? Obviously it’s a student.”

“Or a teacher.”

She pauses. Then, “They ask a lot of rhetorical fucking questions. We know anyone like that?”

I laugh. “I doubt it’d be that easy… but Amelie said the text came from Savannah.”

Riley gasps. “Excuse me? I’m going to kill her.”

“If we can believe anything Amelie says.”

“True. Sheisa dirty backstabbing snake. Savannah just kind of shunned you to survive. You don’t think it could be both of them, do you? Amelie’s just planting the seed to throw suspicion off of herself. Plus, she was in Paris when you first started getting the texts.”

I groan. “There are so many questions and virtuallynoanswers.”

“Agreed.”

Riley opens the library door, but the librarian seems to have been waiting. She clings on to the door, stopping Riley from opening it farther.

“There’s a staff meeting in here today,” she whispers. “Go away.”

I groan. Riley nods slowly, and we share a glance. I try to ignore my dread and follow her to the lunchroom.

“Bathroom break,” I say, tugging her with me.

I can’t wait any longer—and I kind of want to see if he’s going to notice from his earlier stipulation. About…you know. Will he do anything about it? A thrill goes through me, and as soon as my hands are washed and dried, we continue into the packed cafeteria.

“We can just snag seats at one of the empty tables,” Riley murmurs.

We both bring our lunches, so it’s not like we need to wait in the huge line. I follow her down the main aisle. I ignore the table where Amelie reigns, and Savannah tries not to glower. Then there’s the hockey table, centered against the windows.

It’s too easy to find Caleb, sitting in the center like a king.

The king to Amelie’s queen.

My stomach knots, and I think we might slip under the radar when he glances up.

His gaze lands on me, and he raises his eyebrows.

“Why is he looking at you like that?” Riley whispers.

“No idea,” I mutter.

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