Page 110 of The Invite
“Understandable. If you ever need to talk, I’m here.”
Smiling sadly, I whisper, “You’re an amazing friend, Ace.”
“I’m also an amazing cook,” he teases, lightening the mood. “Just wait until dinner.”
“Sounds lovely.” It’s true. With the minimal cash in my bank, I haven’t had a decent meal. I’m waiting for my salary at the end of the month to properly grocery shop as well as buy more work clothes.
I’m yet to see the teachers repeat their outfits while I’ve done itat least three to four times. I haven't missed the side-eyes because of it. If I need to blend in, I need to have several options so I’m not recycling outfits often.
Ugh… why couldn’t teachers have uniforms too?
“Shall we go then?” asks Ace, while running a hand through his curly hair. I look away before he can catch me staring at his bulging bicep.
“How about you run ahead?” I reply. “I need to speak to Greta about something.”
“Okay. I’ll send you the address.”
Grabbing his leather satchel from his seat, he strolls away. I wait for several minutes before going to the parking lot. Ace’s spot is empty and I quickly rush to mine. Settling behind the driver’s seat, I start the engine and travel to my place.
I’m distracted, my heart heavy with a bundle of emotions. While my mind is filled with so many questions. Was Capri—or her sister—having a tough time at school? Did she know the killer? Did they lure her to the classroom before gutting her so pitilessly?
Turning to my street, I drive slowly and gaze around for anyone suspicious. In my neighbor’s garden, I catch two kids playing in the dirt. I pull into my driveway, park beside Augustus’s car, and get out.
Waving at the kids, I walk up to the porch and screech to a halt.
My stomach twists with a sinking feeling.
There, on my doormat, sits another anonymous note with the letter A scrawled on top. The timing of it sends all the warning signals to my brain.
I stare at it with apprehension, half expecting it’ll crawl over and bite me.
With my gaze glued to it and my foot rooted to the spot, the previous messages play on a loop and I’m too afraid to connect the dots.
It can’t be, right?
The stupid prank can’t be real. Steeling my spine, I bend and snatch it up. Unlocking the door, I rush inside my house and hang the keys on the hook behind it.
Sitting on the couch, I tear open the envelope and read the message.
Bad, bad, bad girl Nessa.
Look what your silly mistake cost poor little Capri.
Oops, sorry! I mean Amber.
Here I thought you cared about your students.
All I had asked for was a secret.
That’s all.
And her life could’ve been spared.
My game is real with deadly consequences.
Now that you know I’m serious,
Let’s start over, shall we?
