B00B9FX0MA EBOK (20 page)

I
woke up to the smell of coffee.

“I was about to wake you up. How’d you sleep?” a voice cooed. I turned. Jamie was sitting on a chair across from my bed, her knees pulled to her chest. Coffee and toast were sitting on my bedside table, and a heather-gray suit — the one I saved for special occasions — was lying on the window seat.

“I got everything ready for you! All you have to do is take a shower,” Jamie said eagerly. Her voice had an edge I hadn’t remembered last night. I’d fallen asleep with a sense of relief. But this morning, it was replaced by an uneasy feeling of dread.

“Are you okay? Come on! You don’t want to be late!”

“Right. Sorry. I just feel weird. The pills from Serenity —”

“They should be out of your system by now,” she barked. “Seriously, just take a shower. And then I’ll leave you alone. I promise. I’m as nervous as you are. We are in this together, after all.”

“Right.” I remembered the flood of warm feelings I’d felt toward Jamie last night. I didn’t feel that now. I couldn’t stop thinking of the knife blade. The way she laughed when I asked about Leah. The almost-too-easy explanation she had for where Mom was.

“Where’s Mom?”

“I told you. She’s, like, antiquing with Geofferson. She’ll be
home tomorrow, and all of this will seem like a bad dream. You’ve just got to get everything done today. And I know you can do it. You’re Hayley Westin.”

My heart fluttered in my chest. “And what if I don’t?”

“Well, I think that wouldn’t turn out very well for either of us, now would it?” She grabbed my wrists. I could feel her fingers pressing into my skin. “We’re so alike. Both our parents lied to us. We’ve always been outsiders. We’ve never belonged. Now, we have a chance to get what’s ours.”

“But
I
was the one who was on track for the Ainsworth. That was all me.”

Jamie snorted. “You think? Sorry. You’re good, but you’re not that good. I helped you out. I mean, after I realized that pulling myself up was a lot easier than dragging you down.”

“So you did kill Leah,” I said flatly.

“Shhhh!” She let go of my wrists and my arms fell slack to my sides. “You’re stressed out. It’s understandable. Instead of focusing on me, get into the shower, and start thinking of answers for the Ainsworth committee. All right?”

She pushed me into the bathroom and turned on the water. The one window in the room was incredibly narrow. There was no way to escape.

She would kill my mother. Or she’d kill me, or she’d kill us both. It was essential I stop her — but I needed to do it in a way that would make people believe me. I couldn’t imagine how I’d explain the story to the Bainbridge Police. There were too many pieces, too many strands, and not enough time. Because the second that she knew I wasn’t behaving according to her script, she’d destroy me.

A knock on the door caused me to jump, banging my knee against the faucet. Blood spurted from the cut, the red falling in dark drips on the white tile.

It was only the beginning of the bloodshed. I knew it. If I didn’t become a puppet in Jamie’s plan, she would kill someone. Even if I did, she could strike. Anything was possible.

“Are you almost done? You don’t want to be late!” Jamie yelled.

I turned off the water, wrapped myself in a towel, and stepped out to face my executioner.

Jamie drove me to the U. She didn’t speak. Neither did I. I watched as we crested the hill into town, hoping that someone would see our mirror images and … stop us? I didn’t know. It didn’t matter. No one did.

We drove up to the Beland Building, the neo-Gothic admissions office of the U. I’d been there countless times, for school trips and evening lectures. Now, everything looked strange and unfamiliar.

“Good luck,” Jamie said. She turned and gave me a tight smile. “You know what to do. I’ll be back in two hours.”

I staggered out of the car, aware of Jamie’s eyes watching my every move as I opened the imposing wooden doors and made my way toward the anteroom of the hall where the interview would be held. I slumped on a velvet-covered bench and held my head in my hands. I knew Jamie wasn’t watching me. But I still felt under her control.

A middle-aged suit-clad woman poked her head out from the doorway.

“Hayley Westin?”

“Yes?” I squeaked. I sounded scared and tentative.

She gave me a hard look above her glasses, then cocked her head to the side.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

I swallowed a lump in my throat and nodded.

She smiled. “Good. It’s normal to be nervous. In fact, if you weren’t, then I’d wonder about your sanity!”

She chuckled and I tried to laugh, only it came out like a bark. She glanced back at me strangely, and I tried to disguise the sound as a cough.

She cleared her throat. “Well then, come along,” she said as she led the way up the polished marble staircase to the second floor where the interviews were taking place. “I’m Dr. Dunphy, and I’m so pleased to welcome you to the Ainsworth finals. We just had a young man from Bainbridge. How impressive for the two of you to have made it. I do hope that the competition between you is friendly, though.” Her voice held a note of warning as she escorted me into the Searles Room.

“Of course.” There was no way I could ever tell her, or anyone, about Jamie. They wouldn’t believe me.

“This is supposed to be a conversation.” Dr. Dunphy snapped me back to reality as I realized that she’d been talking the whole time. She paused, her hand on the doorknob of the Searles Room. The thick frosted glass on the window made it impossible to see in. “This isn’t so much of a test as a chance for you to discuss your goals.”

I nodded mutely. It was odd being treated with so much respect after I’d been belittled at Serenity. It was all a matter of perception. In a charcoal suit, pumps, and soft eye makeup, I
was promising. Intelligent. A credit to my community. In the shapeless gray sweats at Serenity, I was a mental patient.

“Are you sure you’re all right? Take a few minutes and collect yourself. I promise I won’t deduct points.” Her tone was teasing and maternal, and my heart twisted. I wanted, so badly, for someone to take care of me right now. And there wasn’t anyone.

“I’m ready now.”

“That’s what we like to hear.” Dr. Dunphy smiled and opened the door. Inside, two men and one woman were seated in overstuffed green velvet armchairs. An untouched tray of coffee, muffins, and bagels was set on a polished coffee table near their knees. One empty seat — a single, hardbacked chair — faced them.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is Hayley Westin,” Dr. Dunphy announced.

“An honor,” one man said, reaching out to enthusiastically pump my hand. His arms seemed too long for his body, reminding me of a scarecrow.

“Thank you, sir,” I said.

“Now, the hot seat is all yours!” The other man laughed, not even bothering to make eye contact as he reached forward with his doughy hand and grabbed one of the muffins. Ignoring the napkins, he bit into it, the crumbs scattering down his pants.

“Are you ready?” the woman asked sharply. Or, really, she was a girl, just a few years older than me. Her long dark hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail. A smattering of freckles dusted her heart-shaped face. She wore a black suit and a silver heart necklace that landed at the notch of her collarbone. She was how I used to imagine myself.

I perched on the edge of the chair and half listened as they
made introductions. The Scarecrow was Professor Doyle from the psych department at the U. The muffin-loving man was a former dean from Yale. And the girl was Amanda Chang, an Ainsworth winner four years ago and current college senior, double majoring in economics and political science and applying to law school.

But I didn’t care about them. I was thinking of Mom. And Miss Marsted. And Adam. I wanted them so badly it hurt my heart. Normally, when I wanted something — like the Ainsworth — I felt the desire creep up my spine and the adrenaline rush my veins. Now, I just felt a dull ache, starting at my temples and entering my heart.

“Tell us a little bit about why you want the Ainsworth,” Amanda asked, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees.

“Hayley?” she prompted. I knew that tone. It was the one I’d used at Yearbook. In class. The one that said
I know you aren’t prepared
.

Well, she was right. I wasn’t.

“I’ve always cared about learning,” I began,
knowing
how cliché it sounded, knowing she was mentally writing me off, because that’s what I would have done. I traced through my research interests, how I wanted to connect technology and poetry, how I could see myself making a positive difference in the world, exactly like what they were looking for in a candidate. At this point, I could do it in my sleep. Scarecrow nodded approvingly, so I kept going. But the girl — Future Me — seemed skeptical.

“And what are the challenges facing scholars today?” She asked the question in a way that made it clear she didn’t think I was a scholar.

I paused. I knew what I should say: something about how rapid advances in technology made it nearly impossible for anyone to be an expert at anything. I opened my mouth.

“I think it’s actually realizing what’s really important,” I started.

“So, what’s important to Hayley Westin?” Future Me asked, barely concealing the sneering tone in her voice.

“If you’d asked me a few weeks ago, I would have said success. And don’t get me wrong, it still is. But —” I broke off as a sob formed in my throat. “I need to leave.”

I ran out the door and hurtled down the stairs. It hadn’t even
occurred
to me to miss the interview. What had I been thinking? I didn’t want the Ainsworth. I wanted my life back. All I wanted was Mom and Adam and the Ugly Mug and Sadie sleeping on my bed and conversations with Keely about gun-metal gray versus heather gray.

I clattered down the stairs as the tears rolled down my cheeks and my heart hammered in my chest — and then found myself face-to-face with Dr. Dunphy.

“Are you all right, dear?” Her eyebrows furrowed in concern.

I shook my head. “No. Do you have a phone?” I asked in a small voice. I couldn’t do this on my own. But as she fumbled through her bag to find her phone I saw something that made my blood run cold.

It was my car, parked in the visitors’ parking lot. Jamie was leaning against it, talking to Adam. Adam clutched a bakery bag in his hands. And then, Jamie turned toward me.

She shook her head slightly, raising an eyebrow.

You were warned.

The words came from my own head, but they might as well have come from hers. She’d given me a chance. She’d known I wasn’t following directions.

“You need my phone?” Dr. Dunphy held hers out to me.

“Call the police. Please!” I saw Jamie open the car door, then Adam open the passenger side door. Around me, students were stumbling across campus in their sweats, heading to the dining hall for breakfast, bleary-eyed from a night of partying. No one noticed anything was wrong.

“Stop!” I called. The wind whipped in my face, though, and I knew Adam hadn’t heard me. He’d accepted a ride. And once he and Jamie were alone … she’d kill him. Of course she would. One fewer Ainsworth contestant, one more way to hurt me.

“The police?” Dr. Dunphy cocked her head in concern.

I didn’t have time. I hurtled toward the parking lot just as Adam slid into the passenger seat. A few spaces away, a guy was unlocking his Jeep, a backpack and guitar slung over his shoulder.

Jamie was backing out of the parking lot. I could either try to confront her directly, hoping she didn’t run me over or kill Adam, or I could follow her.

I glanced back to the guy with the Jeep.

I needed his car.

I ran toward him.

“I need your car!” I yelled. “Now!”

“Yo, you need a ride? I’m running late, but …” he said dubiously, staring me up and down.

I lunged toward him and roughly pushed his shoulders. Since he was already off balance from his backpack and guitar case, the keys clattered to the ground with a thud.

I picked them up, slid into the driver’s seat, and pressed on the accelerator. By the time I reached the tree-lined exit of the U, one car was between us.

Jamie turned right, away from Main Street. So did the other car. I followed, heart hammering. At the outskirts of town, the car turned. It was just the two of us.

Jamie glanced in the rearview mirror. A glimmer of surprise crossed her face, only to be replaced by a slight smile.

It confirmed my worst fears. Jamie was determined to kill Adam. It was a fact. I felt it in my bones, in my heart. And I knew I would do anything to save him.

She sped up. So did I. The Jeep was far more powerful than my car, and I knew I could catch up to her. I needed to stop her. No matter what. And if I continued to stay as close as possible to her bumper, at some point,
someone
would see us.
Someone
would stop us. There weren’t car chases in Bainbridge.

The car swerved sharply, left, then right. And I realized that Jamie didn’t have control of the car anymore. Adam did.

The car took a sharp left, smashing through a fence and causing cows to scatter.

It stopped for a second. I slammed on the brakes, heart thudding, expecting Adam to emerge.

Smoke rose from the hood, making it impossible to see. But then, the car started again, going faster than I’d thought possible, heading toward a pond on the far end of the field. I couldn’t tell who was driving anymore, only that it was going in a straight line toward the lake.

Jamie had to be driving. So where was Adam?

I thought of the butcher knife Jamie had held. Could she have used it while he was driving? It was very possible. What
did she have to lose? The idea of Adam, bleeding in the car, maybe alive but definitely not okay, was too much.

I needed to stop her. Now.

I closed my eyes and floored the accelerator, focusing only on the car right ahead of me. My goal was just to stop it in any way possible. All I saw in front of me was a brilliant kaleidoscope of blues and greens and browns. So this was how it would end.