We're almost to the first position when I hear someone calling her name from behind us. I push Vivian a bit further along, hoping the din of the noise around her will distract her enough that she won't hear.
Then it sounds again, “Vivian!”
She immediately turns, her eyes scanning the crowd with even more excitement than before. She releases my hand to lift hers above her head as she shouts, “I'm here. I'm here.”
I roll my eyes in disgust as a familiar golden head pops into view. Zion Cruise. Vivian's little lapdog. And directly behind him, his pair of bros, Jacob and Cornelius.
Hoping to put a few layers of truth between us, I give Vivian a final shove forward. She whirls around just in time to stop herself from falling off the edge.
“Oh, my,” she gasps. Her arms windmill at her sides as she rights herself, and then she stares at me wide-eyed as she adds, “That was a close one.”
I give her the sweetest smile I can possibly muster. “I know, right? We'd better get a move on before we miss our chance.”
Knowing I'm completely out of time, I glance over my shoulder, noting that Zion and his friends are closing in on us swiftly. I grasp both of Vivian's hands in mine, giving them a quick squeeze before releasing her, my hands moving to her shoulders. I maneuver her directly in front of me, saying, in a rush, “We'll all catch up. But you know the way is to the right.”
She turns her head slightly toward me, frowning. “But you know it's to the le?—”
I don't allow her to finish the sentence; instead, I give her a hard shove, catching her off guard. She doesn't have the chance to so much as yelp before she's tipping over the edge, and then she vanishes into the dark.
“Gemma!” Zion shouts from behind me.
I don't bother turning back, immediately shifting to the left in preparation to step out into a new truth I'm writing for myself. I leap forward only to be quickly snatched from the air by a hard tug on my shirt.
I hit the ground on my back just hard enough to lose my breath. And I lie there for a few moments, choking on the air stuck in my throat, watching Zion, flanked by both of his friends, glaring down at me.
I cough a few times, finally managing to inhale, and then I scoot back on my hands, peering between their legs at the edge just on the other side of them.
“Don't even think about it,” Zion grits out. “What have you done?”
I make a face and shrug. “I didn't do anything.”
“I have a hard time believing that,” Cornelius drawls. “There's not a chance in hell Vivian went to the right of her own accord.”
I purse my lips, attempting my most innocent look, but then Jacob steps forward and kneels in front of me, his eyes instantly locking with mine. It only takes a few seconds for me to look away, completely incapable of holding his gaze, knowing he'll see the truth there.
He rises, turns to Zion, and says, “Well, if she thinks it's good enough for Viv, then I guess it's good enough for her.”
Jacob and Cornelius both step forward, each grabbing me by an arm and hefting me onto my feet. I attempt to struggle, but it's of no use. I quickly find myself with my toes right on the edge, peering down into an abyss I want no part of.
A hand presses between my shoulder blades, and I brace myself for the inevitable fall, but then, a voice breaks through the silence. “Stop.”
Everyone freezes. Instantly, silence falls, movement ceases.
“Zion,” the voice says clearly. “Explain yourself.”
“Gemma pushed Vivian to the right,” he replies firmly. “She didn't even give her a chance to choose, just shoved her over.”
“No,” I sputter. “That's not what happened at all.”
Cornelius and Jacob remain silent, knowing better than to add their two cents unless prompted. There are a few long moments of complete silence, and then the voice asks, “Zion, can you prove this claim?”
He's silent at first. I feel his glare boring into the side of my head as he mutters, “No.”
A small thrill of victory rushes inside me, and I barely manage to keep the smug grin off my face as Jacob and Cornelius release me. Straightening, I brush the invisible dust off myself only to immediately wilt when the voice asks, “Gemma, can you prove your defense of this claim?”
I grind my teeth together, wishing I could come up with some type of tale that would cover me, but knowing it's impossible. “No.”
“Jacob? Cornelius?”
