Page 75 of They're Watching You

“Apple. I don’t like the green ones.”

He shrugs. “I can’t tell the difference.”

I laugh. “They taste nothing alike.”

“No, I mean, the colors.”

The memory of the jeweled chalices filters back into my mind. Remington standing in terror, relying on me to tell him which chalice was which. I glance at the waxy red apple beside the Granny Smith green. “So, they both look gray or something?”

“No, they just look the same.” He places both apples in my hands. “I can make you some coffee in the kitchen.”

I push off the floor with my foot, sending the chair rolling toward the wall. “I’m good. You don’t think there’s any way you could sneak me out of here, do you?”

“Now?”

“Don’t I deserve one last hot shower before the society kills our friends and possibly us?”

“No one’s getting killed. We won’t let them. That’s why we have to decide what to do with this video before we head out. The headmistress made it clear the society has its claws in the police force, but there’s got to be someone we can send it to for insurance. Who could take the society down?”

“Local news?” I suggest. “As long as they don’t leak the story before Polly and Jane are safe.”

“We need someone to hold the video for us in the meantime. Someone who will get it into the right hands if we…” His gaze trails away from mine.If we don’t make it out of tonight’s meeting. “Someone we can trust.”

“I might know someone,” I say, my insides so weighted by guilt they’re practically crumpling on top of themselves. “But I’ll need to speak to her in person.”

***

Some of Remington’s too-big clothes and a beanie sufficed as a disguise to get me to the stairwell and out of the dormitory with only a couple of glances. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, I head back out, following the path to the dining hall.

I tug my phone from my backpack, newly charged as I slept. I’ve been ignoring the twelve texts and five missed calls from Gavin. Rage burns now in my chest, in my head, in my throat; I actually considered him a friend. The emotion blurs into the sizzling swell of embarrassment that I believed—for a second in the catacombs when he looked at me—we might even be more than friends.

But all he ever wanted was to make the Gamemaster happy. He might not know the extent of the society’s evils, but he used me. And now he thinks I’m just going to forget about everything he put me through, because, for once, he got a taste of what it’s like to fall out of the Gamemaster’s good graces.

Still, I couldn’t help the sense of relief that settled over me when I saw his texts. Despite everything, some pathetic part of me wants him to stay safe.

I text him to leave me the hell alone and enter the dining hall where I’m meeting Jordan for dinner.

Inside, Remington is already seated at a table in the back, ready to play lookout. The dining hall, with its constant chatter, seemed like the only place I could speak to Jordan without the society listening in.

I grab a tray and head to the roasted chicken and potatoes station, having learned to go into these society functions on a full stomach. After adding a helping of corn, I thread through the diners until I find smiley-faced Jordan off in a corner.

“Hey!” She leans in, lowering her voice. “You missed the last meeting. What happened?”

The wordsI was sickdance on my tongue, but I swallow them back. “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” I look over my shoulder, scanning the diners at nearby tables. I scoot my chair in until the table jabs me in the stomach. “I have to apologize to you. I haven’t been honest.” Jordan’s bubbly expression falters, but I press on. “The society isn’t really about fun and games. It’s dangerous, and the only reason I invited you was because they forced me to.”

Jordan opens her mouth, but I cut her off. “Do you remember Polly St. James?”

She eyes me warily but nods. “You and Polly were attached at the hip before we met.”

“Right. Well, she met Annabelle, joined the society, and then the society kidnapped her. They’ve been forcing me to complete these tasks, threatening to kill Polly if I don’t comply.” Jordan’s eyes widen, and all I can do is shrug pathetically. “Inviting you to a meeting was one of my tasks.”

Jordan’s gaze sinks to her plate of chicken and green beans. “Annabelle?” she finally asks.

“Yes, her. But more importantly, the Gamemaster, whoever that is.”

“You don’t know who it is?”

“No idea. Probably a Form IV, but to be honest, I’m not even sure it’s a student. The point is, the society brought me and Remington in to get us to compete against each other. It’s all this elaborate challenge devised to determine a sacrifice for some sick ritual.” Jordan’s eyes flick up, narrowing skeptically. I lean in. “Jordan, they’re planning to sacrifice a person. Polly, or this other girl, Jane. Remington’s ex.”

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