Page 54 of Dead Girls Can't Tell Secrets

Grant’s head draws back. “Really?” He glances in the direction of Mr. Davis’s tent. “Maybe you and I can get an early start back. Mr. Davis might let us if we go together.”

I smile weakly. “That would be great.”

His lips touch my hair. “When he wakes up, I’ll ask him.”

He heads back to his tent for his thermos, and I move to the now-abandoned fire. I squat down to warm my hands, this morning’s events tumbling through my brain. Events that Grant knows nothing about. Should I head down the mountain with him? He’d be a comfort at the police station. But then I’d have to confess the real reason I came up here to begin with. I’d have to convince him that his beloved coach can’t be trusted.

Zip.“Hey, guys,” Mr. Davis’s sleepy voice says behind me, turning every inch of my body to stone. “Can’t believe you’re all up before me.”

“Well, the early bird catches the worm, Mr. Davis,” says Noah. A horsey, clunky laugh follows.

“Does that mean you caught something, Mr. Crawford?”

“Uh, no. I left my bow and arrows back home, sir.” Dark circles rim Noah’s eyes, reminding me how tired I am. Jacey yawns, causing me to yawn.

Off to one side of the camp, the bright green tent begins to rustle. The door unzips, and Abby pokes her head out, rubbing her eyes and rolling her neck sleepily. She pulls a beanie over her tousled hair and meanders over to the fire.

Mr. Davis starts assembling his Jetboil, and Grant tosses me a reassuring smile before joining him. Smoke burns my throat and distorts the scene as I watch them, my hands fidgeting in my lap.

A minute later, Grant returns, frowning. “He says we can’t split up the group. I would’ve thought he’d be more understanding.”

“When are we heading back down?”

He shrugs. “He wants us to enjoy the morning up here in the fresh air.”

Great.I take a breath, but my senses no longer register pine or smoke or the vast glory of the mountains.

The only thing I sense right now is my purpose. And that’s to get down this mountain, with or without the buddy system.

Piper

The Day She Fell

As soon as Savannah’s door creaks open, my ears perk up. Something rustles in the kitchen. Of course—minutes after shattering my world, she’s grabbing a snack. I tiptoe down the hall, lift the keys to her car slowly from the hook, and ease open the front door. Then I slip out into the afternoon sunlight.

Tears blur my vision as I drive the short distance to Grayling High. I left at the beginning of sixth period, so school has only been out for half an hour. Mr. Davis will be in the athletics office. Alex called after my fight with Savannah, asking if I wanted to study for our AP physics quiz. I had to talk to someone, so I answered. Maybe I shouldn’t have, because he didn’t like my plan, and he sounded like he might try to stop me.

I pull the chain link from my pocket, tumbling it around in my hand. I ended the call with Alex before he managed to talk sense into me. The truth is, I know that what I’m about to do doesn’t look good on paper. My big sister should be solving my problems, not causing them. Yet I’m the one sitting here in tear-streaked desperation, waiting for Mr. Davis to escort me to the gallows.

I still have to do it.

Before homecoming, I really thought Savannah and I had turned a corner. I’d forgiven her, shown her that being sisters trumps everything. And she’d sacrificed all the pre-dance pomp and circumstance that goes with being queen to help me. For the first time in forever, I’d felt like we were close.

And then when Noah and Jacey betrayed me, she was nowhere to be found.

I remember her words from earlier today with a stab.We’re done, Piper. As far as I’m concerned, you don’t exist.

As far as my sister’s concerned, maybe I’ve never existed at all.

But after today—after I save her from her own mistakes and probably ruin my entire future in the process—she’s going to remember me.

And maybe even love me.

I wipe my tears, dry my hand on my jeans, and knock on the athletics office door. Mr. Davis doesn’t answer, but the door is cracked, so I give it a nudge. The small room is empty. Some papers are scattered over the desk, and his laptop is here, screen saver flashing. He must’ve gone to make copies or grab coffee in the teachers’ lounge. The last of the students has long since shuffled out of the hallway, leaving only the distant rumble of voices on the outdoor fields. I pull out my phone—four p.m.

Then, with a pinch of disappointment, I remember. Survival Club is meeting up on the trail this afternoon.

I start to leave, but something on the desk catches my eye. Something Mr. Davis has never left out before. The thing I’ve searched this office, his classroom desk, and the equipment locker for countless times since I heard him whispering with Jaime Sanderson two weeks ago.

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