“Call 911, Ash,” I say firmly. Ash startles away from me. He’s watching Joey’s every move like he’s waiting for him to strike again, but he fumbles his phone out of his pocket and makes the call. Only seconds have passed since we got to the kid, but I know exactly how critical time is. I check his airways, clear, then his breathing…nothing. His throat is already looking mottled.
Joey’s strangled him.
Ash starts talking down the line to the operator, and I start CPR. I’m focused entirely on the kid, counting compressions and singing the stupid song in my head to keep time. When I stop to do the breaths, Ash switches his phone onto speaker and takes over the compressions.
“Like this?” he asks, and I start to singStaying Aliveby the Bee Gees softly, just loud enough for him to catch the rhythm. I hear a scuffle behind us, but I ignore it. No, I trust Blaise to keep Ash and I safe while we try and help the kid.
No other students step forward to help.
I lose any respect for them, any shred that I had, because only a monster would step away from this without helping out.
He’s just a fucking kid.
The 911 operator tells us the ambulance is at the gates, and I bark at the crowd to send someone down to lead them up. The scuffle gets louder, swearing and spitting and wood snapping, and then a palm touches my shoulder blade. I flinch and look up to see the EMTs have arrived. I slide away from the kid and Ash stops the compressions. As his hands leave his chest, I hear a wet, sucking, gurgling noise, and then a moan.
He’s alive.
I scramble away and Ash catches me by the elbow, lifting me off the ground. I can’t take my eyes off the EMTs while they load him up and start working on him.
“What’s his name?” I say, and Ash pants back, “Matthew. Matthew Steiner.”
When they’re wheeling him away, I finally look over to where Joey was standing. Blaise and Harley have him pinned to the ground, but just barely. Blaise is bleeding profusely from a deep gouge in his forehead. Avery is standing over them, scanning the crowd with a keen eye. She’s making her assessment, planning out the damage control required to minimize her brother’s attempt at murder. I see red—seething, maniacal, bleeding red—and I step forward only to be stopped by the vise grip of Ash’s hand around my wrist. He doesn’t look down at me, but he gives it a little squeeze.
A warning.
“Anyone get it on tape?” Avery even sounds like her usual icy self.
Two girls step forward and hand over their phones. Avery taps away at them, her phone pings, and then she hands them back. I watch the crowd. I want to memorize the faces, so I know who the truly weak and apathetic students are. As easy as breathing, I start to notice the behaviors. There are three students, all guys, who are digging their phones deeper in their pockets subconsciously, like they’re trying to push them out of Avery’s reach.
I do not trust Avery.
But Ash just stepped up to the plate. He’s earned my respect where a whole group of kids just failed. I now have some level of trust in him.
“There’s others who have the footage.” Ash looks down at me, and then when I point them out, he starts calling names, sharp and authoritative. The guys lurch forward at his command. Avery arches an eyebrow at them while they fumble over themselves to make excuses. Avery takes a copy of their footage and wipes the phones.
There’s other ways to do it. Software and coding that can be done to hack into the phones and get whatever you need out of them. I might suggest it to Ash later, an extra sweep to make sure this stays buried.
I still don’t knowwhywe are burying it.
“Go, Mounty. You don’t need your name attached to this.” Ash lets my wrist go reluctantly and gives me a gentle push toward the door. It occurs to me that there are still no teachers or librarians here, and that Avery and Harley made it but no adults have yet. If I hadn’t rushed forward, that kid could have died. I mean, he might still die or have a brain injury, but at least we gave him a chance.
I glance back at Joey one last time before I leave. He’s stopped thrashing about, but he’s hissing at Harley instead. He’s not looking at his face, his eyes are lower, his neck—
The necklace.
He’s spotted the necklace I stole from his room the day I called the cops and had him arrested. I turn and walk away, shoving past the crowd, not giving a damn who I hurt with my bony elbows. I only stop at the table long enough to grab my bag and throw my supplies back in it.
I get to the far side of the school, where the staircases to the girls’ dorms are, before I see Mr. Trevelen and the librarians rush past. Too little and far too late, thanks to the interference Avery ran.
I lock my door, check it’s secure, and then collapse back onto my bed.
So I now have two lists I’m compiling.
One is an ongoing list of everything the Beaumonts can get away with, which now includes murder.
And the second is a to-do list.
I’m going to need to call in a favor.
