Then there’s a different kind of shriek. Not of anger, but of alarm. A sudden scrabbling of shoes trying to gain purchase, then nothing.
I push myself up, my mind whirling from adrenaline and pain and everything else, and it’s only then that I realize how close I am to the cliff’s edge. I scramble away from the cliff, still on my butt. God, that was way too close. I could’ve fallen.
“Did you see that?” I babble. “I could’ve fallen. I—”
I turn to my left. Haven is sitting next to me, her chest heaving, her face frozen in horror as she stares down the cliffside. “Dani,” she whispers.
I look over my shoulder, expecting to see Dani there, but there’s no one around. “Where did she go?” I say stupidly.
Haven’s wide, terrified eyes meet mine. “She fell.”
The wave of dread that rushes over me is so severe that I almost throw up. “What do you—how could she—” My mind flails, trying to piece together the last few moments. I was fighting Haven. Dimly, I register the memory of Dani screaming at us to stop. Then she dove in, trying to pry us apart, and—
“You pushed her,” Haven says.
I gawk at her. “I didn’t. I didn’t even know she was there. I—” I remember kicking out, and my feet connecting with someone. Was it Dani? Did I kick her so hard that she lost her balance and tumbled over the edge? Fear grips my throat, choking me. I might have killed Dani. Why did I kick out like that? Without even looking where I was kicking and thrashing about?
“I don’t think I pushed her. I don’t know, I—” My voice cracks. Why the hell are we talking about this? “We need to get help. We need to—” I crawl as far to the edge as I dare and call out, “Dani!”
There’s no answer. Around us, the city lights continue glimmering, and right below us, nothing but pitch black.
“Dani!” Haven shouts down. “Can you hear us?” Her voice is swallowed by the unforgiving darkness.
We look at each other, my panic mirrored in her face. “Do you think she’s dead?” I whisper.
Haven shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“We need to call nine-one—”
When she next speaks, the words that come out of her mouth are “I’m going to Stanford.”
I want to laugh. Because isn’t that just so Haven? “This isn’t the time to show off about Stanford,” I hiss.
Haven’s gaze is laser focused on mine. “Which college are you going to?”
“I’ve told you, Haven.” I shake my head bitterly. Of course Haven, who doesn’t give a shit about me, can’t remember a single thing I say. My life matters so little to her. “None, thanks to you. I didn’t get accepted anywhere. I’m going to attend community college.”
“Okay. Not great, but still way better than prison.”
I blink. “What?”
“Where do you think we’ll end up, Fern?” Haven says. “Prison, that’s where.”
“We didn’t—she was—this wasn’t—” Again, our fight replays in my mind. A complete mess. Haven was the one who pushed Dani, right? Or was it me? I don’t know, and the not knowing kills me. “We can tell them the truth, that this was an accident.”
Haven’s face changes then, all traces of shock and fear suddenly melting away, replaced by a cold, unmoving calm. “Listen to me, Fern,” she says, and even her voice is different. Gone is her earlier panic. Her voice is low but full of confidence. “Even if we don’t end up in prison, no college is going to want either of us if this gets out. No company will ever employ us.”
“But Dani—”
“It was a horrible accident. No point in it destroying our lives as well. She wouldn’t have wanted that.”
My mouth opens, but before I can say anything, Haven talks over me.
“I know what you’re like,” she says. “You can’t help but be this ... whatever this is. You want to rush home and tell Mommy and Daddy everything that happened tonight. But if you do that, you’re the one who’ll regret it. Trust me.” She goes quiet for a moment, then all of a sudden, she bursts into tears, her beautiful face scrunching up as actual tears roll down her cheeks. “I didn’t dare tell anyone because I was so scared of what Fern might do to me!”
I gape at her stupidly. “Wait, what—”
“Everyone knows how ... odd she is,” Haven continues, drawing in a shaky breath. “Dani tried to warn me. She told me that even whenthey were kids, she knew there was something wrong with Fern. I just didn’t know she’d be capable of murder.”
