Page 27 of They're Watching You

“We don’t want any winnings,” Remington says, his voice strained. “We want to know why you did this.”

“That girl is society, Annabelle,” I add. “You hurt one of your own.”

“I guess Alicia shouldn’t have gotten caught spilling society secrets.”

“What are you talking about?”

She shrugs. “I may’ve overheard her trying to impress a Form II with tales of a meeting. We can’t afford to let our members go around blabbing.”

My head starts to spin. This is how they handle someone giving away information? Which is exactly what Polly seemed to be considering that day on the lawn.I want to show you something. Did Annabelle somehow figure it out before Polly made it to the fountain that night? Gavin is lucky Annabelle didn’t overhear him telling me how to get an invitation.

Remington glances at me in horror. “We want you to tell Headmistress Koehler that we had nothing to do with this.”

“And the police,” I add, feeling sick as I picture Polly lying helpless, unable to breathe as blood fills her lungs.

“In that case,” Annabelle says, pressing her lips together for a moment, “we might have an issue.” Her heels clack along the cobblestone as she speeds her steps, voice trailing back with the wind. “You both really should reconsider.”

Once her dark coat is out of view, I reach over and grip Remington’s arm so hard my fingers hurt. “What are we going to do?” That girl was society. These people aren’t even safe from each other.

He strokes the wool of my—no, Polly’s—coat sleeve and peers down at me. “We’ll go to the administration, together. We’ll tell them everything.” The words sound noble and brave, but a tremor runs through his voice. Through my layers, I feel his fingers quiver.

“How will we explain the security footage?”

“I don’t think there is any footage. I think Annabelle is just doing what she does best—playing with us.” His hand moves down my arm until he’s gripping my own frozen hand. “I just wish we hadn’t torn up the task cards. That was the only evidence we had that the society was in control tonight.”

“I still have the invitation to the initiation in my room,” I say. “That could help. Do you have the bottle? Maybe the cops can test it for prints. Then they’ll know we weren’t the only ones handling it.”

He nods, indicating his jacket. “It’s in here.”

In the distance, sirens blare and red lights ricochet off the brick buildings. The headmistress never attends the Masquerade Ball; she was probably woken up to attend to this nightmare.

“Let’s go find the headmistress.” I start back in the direction of the Grand Banquet Hall, and Remington follows. Though the faculty is still trying to drive everyone to their dormitories, clusters of distraught, gossiping students continue to ignore them. I feel like a fish swimming upstream, trying to get through. We reach the crowd camped around the ambulance, and I peer through to glimpse the stretcher carrying Alicia Jones.

Dr. Sandoval is shouting at everyone to move, and with a grumble, they drift away. Remington and I stay back with the stragglers, searching for the headmistress. “You two,” Dr. Sandoval snaps, footsteps slapping the pavement as he nears us. “Are you listening? We need space for the ambulance to get out of here. A girl may die.”

“Yes, we know, Dr. Sandoval,” Remington says. “We need to talk to Headmistress Koehler about that.”

“Well, you can’t. Not tonight.” He shoos us with a flick of his hand.

“You don’t understand—”

“The headmistress is already in the ambulance,” he says, pointing to the back of the vehicle, which has just rumbled off down the service road, lights flashing.

My stomach drops.

Remington’s hand falls on my shoulder. “Okay, sir,” he says, “then can we speak with you?”

“I’ve got to prevent this place from becoming a circus.” His gaze darts to where a few guys in suits have wandered in the direction of the apple orchard. “And you two need to get to your dorms or you’ll both be suspended for a week.” Drops of spittle fly through the night air before he clomps off after the guys.

I turn to Remington, defeated. My legs feel weak. “Let’s talk to Headmistress Koehler first thing in the morning. There’s nothing we can do for Alicia now.”

Remington nods. When he takes in my shaky hands and shallow breathing, his eyes narrow. “Let’s get you to bed,” he says, offering me an arm.

***

It’s still dark when I wake. The sheets are drenched in sweat, and the curtains at my window billow as a cold draft seeps in.

I don’t remember opening that window.

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