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“All right.” Eli’s voice returned to their ears. “Jack, you’re going right. Greer and Carter, keep going straight.”

For a moment, they all lingered at that break in the path.

“Okay,” Jack said, adrenaline rushing through his veins like rapids on a river. He had nothing to be nervous about, of course. Despite the importance of the outcome here, he’d taken on infinitely more difficult jobs before he was in high school. This should be a breeze. He’d thought of every possible outcome, put in every possible fail-safe. And yet, something in Margaret’s body told him to panic. Call it woman’s intuition.

Jack checked his watch. It was now quarter to midnight. Cyrus would be arriving any minute, and the seller only a short while after that.

“Okay,” he said again. “You know where I’ll be if anything goes sideways.”

“We’ll be fine,” Greer said tightly, her eagerness to get that list and, subsequently, the money from Cyrus hurrying her away from Jack. “We’ve done this shit a million times.”

“Yeah,” said Jack, but something still tugged at him from somewhere that wasn’t entirely his. For all their months together, Margaret’s presence had never felt stronger, and that terrified him. “Be safe.”

Greer was already on the move again before Jack could finish his plea, but Carter gave him a clap on the shoulder. “We’ll be good.”

Then he, too, was gone and Jack stood in the echoing darkness alone.

After a breath, he tucked himself down the narrow tunnel to the right, the chipped brick walls tapering slightly as he made his way to his designated hiding place. The walls drew together in a small, round chamber, a concrete-filled hole carved into the ceiling where a manhole cover had once been, the staple-shaped steps of a metal ladder still sprouting from the bricks at the back of the space.

Jack hunkered down, leaning his weight against the wall as he waited. His lower back already ached, and his compression socks weren’t doing much for his varicose veins. The late hour weighed heavily on his eyelids.

“Hey, team.” Eli’s voice in Jack’s ear. “I’m opening the channels now so Jack can hear what’s happening with Carter and Greer.”

“Cyrus is here,” Greer said through the earpiece. “Still no sign of the seller.”

It was five minutes past midnight. The thought occurred to Jack that this might not actually happen: that the seller might have gotten cold feet or found a better offer or simply had a change of heart, and this would all be for nothing. Then a few muffled words came crackling through Greer’s mic, a collection of voices all layered over one another. The words themselves were impossible to make out. All Jack knew was that something was off. The voices rose in volume. Someone was yelling. And then, before Jack could move or breathe or think, he heard it. A familiar metallic click.

41

Click

August 2007

The heat wave was verging on unbearable. Two straight weeks of sticky skin and ice cream that melted before you’d even paid for it. But Jack McCoy had a plan. Jack McCoy always had a plan. And this was a brilliant one.

“This is moronic,” Greer declared from her seat across the booth at Billy’s. The diner’s air-conditioning was on the fritz and the single ceiling fan rotated at a pace suggesting it knew it was the only thing standing between the patrons beneath and heatstroke, and it relished the power. “The risk isn’t worth it.”

“Greer’s right,” said Eli. “I’m one strike away from juvie. I’m not risking it for this.”

Jack had known there would be pushback. After almost a decade as the democratically elected leader of the You Agains, Jack knew every thought bound to enter his friends’ minds, often before they’d thought them. It was a necessary skill, one that enabled him to strategize for an inconveniently timed conscience or concern. He also knew that, for a plan like this, all it would take was one You Again to fall and the rest would topple after them like dominoes. He shifted his focus to Jules.

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out too,” he poked.

“Jack, come on.” Greer gave a warning hiss.

“What? I’m just saying. I get it, the rest of you are down to spend the summer with swampy butt cracks, fine, but Jules isn’t afraid of a bit of fun.”

“Jack, I’m serious,” Greer said. “Stop dragging her into your bullshit. She’s just a kid.”

Jack caught Jules stiffen beside Greer from the corner of his eye. His domino was wobbling. She just needed a little tap now.

“You’re right,” Jack said. “Sorry, Jules. I know you got grounded last time. I’d hate for you to get in trouble again because of me. Not when you have your whole future ahead of you, kiddo.”

Jules’s nostrils flared at this, and just like that, the first domino fell.

“I am not a kid,” Jules spat. “And I’m sick of you buttmunches acting like I am. I don’t need your pity and I don’t need you to babysit me.” She raised her chin at Jack. “Besides, I’m over my armpits smelling like pepperoni. I need a break from this heat.”

Jack bit back his smile as he turned from her to the rest of the You Agains. Carter toppled next on a heavy sigh.