I can’t tell which face she’ll don at any given moment, but I will say that—while I might not trust J—she is far more interesting than any girl I’ve ever met.
My phone buzzes.
It’s the group chat.
Dutch: @Finn, where are you?
I hurry inside Redwood Prep, ignoring the shadows that roll over the walls and the haunting thud of my shoes on the marble floors and the hint of disinfectant.
The kids say Redwood Prep is haunted, and I’ve heard Cadence refer to the school as “creepy” after hours.
But it’s just some walls and a roof.
I’ve seen real monsters. This building cannot compare.
When I get to the practice room, the air is stifling and tense. On a normal day, Dutch would be in the corner, perched on a stool with his guitar in his lap. Zane would be twirling his drumstick behind the drumset.
Tonight, they all scramble to their feet when they see me.
“What was that text about, Finn?” Dutch demands.
I tell them everything, starting with J finding the encrypted channel and ending with Mom’s patchy warning, which I started recording around halfway through the conversation. By the time they’ve finished listening to the recording, Zane and Dutch look extremely relieved.
“If it’s Mom, it means they’re okay,” Dutch says, sagging into a chair.
“Are you sure about that?” Sol frowns. “All this seems suspicious.”
“I trust Finn,” Zane declares.
“So do I,” Sol snaps back. “I’m just saying that this doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s the only lead we have, and at least they’re with someone we know and trust. Finn, can you contact Mom again?” Dutch asks. “We need to know why she did this.”
“I’ll keep trying,” I promise.
“What exactly does Mom know that she can’t tell us?” Dutch rakes his fingers through his hair. “What ‘danger’ is she talking about?”
The room falls into silence as we all think deeply. Outside, I hear a faint sound almost like fireworks.
“What was that?” Dutch growls, his eyes darting to the window.
“I have no idea.” Zane glances around as if the answer is written on the walls.
Thepop-pop-popsound erupts again.
Sol ducks. “Everyone get down!”
Dutch and Zane fly under a desk as we all collectively realize those “fireworks” are actually gunshots.
I whip my gaze to the door, remaining upright.
“Finn, what are you doing?” Sol yells.
“Get down!” Dutch barks.
Zane’s eyes bulge. “Finn, come on!”
I ignore my family, wrench the door open, and dart out into the darkness of Redwood Prep.
