“You’re here,” I say.
Ava gasps and they both rush toward me, arms extended.
“Be gentle,” Dad advises. “She’s fragile.”
I shake my head and everything throbs, sending a searing pain through my body. But I’m notfragile. I need information.
“What happened?” I ask, tasting smoke.
Mom sighs and looks at Dad, weary. “We heard you on the walkie. Ava and Imogen ran there as fast as they could. And when we saw the dining hall...” Mom covers her mouth. “We weren’t sure if the fire department would get here in time.”
“We got you out before the roof collapsed,” Imogen says.
“They saved your life,” Dad says.
“Is Meg okay?”
Mom nods. “She’s going to make it.”
“Stu,” I say. “Mellie.”
Mom nods. “The police found them in the office in the winter cabin, destroying everything having to do with their foreign accounts.”
“Heller,” I say. “They killed Heller.”
Mom and Dad exchange a look.
“You don’t need to worry about that now,” Dad says. “You’re safe.”
I shake my head, nearly ripping the IV from my hand. “Where are they?”
Mom clears her throat. “They both confessed. To everything. You’re never going to see them again.”
---
I wake up the next morning, feeling like there’s an anvil on my chest. My room is empty for the first time since I’ve been here. The sun streams through the flimsy curtains.An amazing Alpine Lake day. That’s what Stu would say over the announcements if this were any other morning of the summer.
I stretch my arms over my head, surveying my body for aches and pains, bumps and bruises. Everything seems raw but intact.
“Get a load of the Brit down the hall?” A nurse speaks casually outside my room, chatting with an orderly.
I lean forward, trying to find out information about Meg.
“Roxwood PD are coming by soon,” the orderly says, snapping a wad of gum. “Lucky she made it out alive.”
A hitch catches in my throat and I know I need to see Meg. Now.
I swing my legs over the side of the bed and ignore the throbbingthat spreads through my body. I inch myself up and out the door, hobbling along as I hold on to the IV drip, trying to forget the fact that my bare ass is hanging out of this hospital gown.
It takes me a while, but I make it to the end of the hall, where the whiteboard hanging on a door says Meg’s name and a bunch of acronyms I don’t understand. I twist the knob and slip inside, shutting the door behind me. When I turn around, I gasp. Nothing could have prepared me to see Meg this way, bandages wrapped around her arms and forehead, a bright pink gash trailing down her cheek. A tube’s stuck into the back of her hand, which trembles when I step closer.
She stirs and cranes her head to see me. “I was wondering when you’d show up.”
“Are you—”
“I’ll live.” She tries to push herself to sit but the movement seems to tucker her out. I slide into the plastic chair next to her bed.
“I—” Meg starts to say.
