《The Overnight Party》


 Chapter 1

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    Maya¡¯s Room


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 Chapter 2

    Maya''s mocha had gone cold, the sweet foam now a listless clump on its surface. The dinning room of The Daily Bean seethed with a low-level tension, even after the police officers strolled off, coffee cups in hand. A nervous laugh broke the silence.


    "Well, that was . . . something," Sarah finally said. She swished her blonde waves as if shaking the nervousness away. "If anyone asks, you were all with me at a scrapbooking convention all day. We airtight." She winked at Maya, a playful spark in her eyes that didn''t quite hide her lingering unease.


    Alex, his smirk replaced by a tight-lipped frown, shot a sidelong glance at Maya. "The cops in this town," he said, his tone laced with a hint of suspicion. "They''ll get you for anything. Even if you''ve got nothing to hide. You''re new so you shouldn''t be worried."


    "Should I have been?" Maya countered. "Cops getting coffee isn''t exactly a crime spree. Though come to think of it . . ." she feigned a thoughtful look, "Maybe we could''ve pinned a parking ticket on them."


    Emily giggled, the sound unexpectedly light considering the lingering tension. Sarah shot her a subtle look, then turned back to Maya.


    "So . . ." Alex broke the remaining silence with a strained chuckle, his kind blue eyes lighting up. "Last weekend of freedom, right?" He looked at Sarah expectantly. "A weekend to help blow off some steam?"


    Sarah leaned forward and Maya caught a whiff of her blueberry bubblegum perfume. She glanced from Alex with a big grin on his stubbled face, and then back to Sarah. "Our friend, Cairo, is having a party tonight to celebrate our last night weekend of freedom before school starts. His parents are out of town. You should come."


    Maya was reluctant. She remembered she had made plans with her mother. Pizza and unpacking.


    Before she could answer, Sarah said, "Think of it as community service, Maya ¨C we can''t let his newly-stocked fridge go to waste. And there might be...scrapbooking supplies?"


    Emily smiled, but didn''t say anything. She was definitely the quiet one of the group. Her dark hair, plain dark clothes, plain makeup, Maya interpreted as someone who preferred to blend in.


    They were extending the olive branch, offering normalcy. Yet, Maya couldn''t shake the feeling she was stepping into a room with locked doors, the unseen dangers lurking just beyond the flickering porch light. Her gaze caught a flash of movement ¨C Alex, sliding his wallet back into his pocket. Just for a moment, a strange, etched symbol, a circle with a line through it, gleamed on the worn leather. Maya''s pulse quickened. She''d seen that symbol before . . . but where?


    "Um, sure," she managed, the word catching in her dry throat. An invitation? Or a test? "What time?"


    "Nine-ish," Sarah answered. "We''ll text you the details."


    A reluctant smile formed on Maya''s lips. She said goodbye to her new friends and made her way home, her mother''s coffee room temperature. As she walked away, the warmth of the dappled sunlight did little to dispel the lingering unease. Her gaze drifted towards Riverside park, the scent of freshly-cut grass a brief promise of respite. But respite wasn''t for tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Tonight was the party, a chance to find her place in this world, or to find out just how deep the shadows ran.


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    Once home, Maya kicked a stray cardboard box on the porch out of her path and nudged the front door open with her hip. "Hey, Mom? I''m back!"


    The smell of fresh paint with an undertone of dust hung in the air. From the kitchen came the rhythmic clink of mugs and the scrape of a chair against the tile floor. She found her mom crouched, surrounded by open boxes, a tea towel draped over her shoulder like a resigned superhero.


    Maya placed the cup of coffee on the counter next to a stack of pots and a box with bubble wrap.


    Her mother took a deep breath and wiped her forehead with the back of her dusty hand. "You were gone for awhile. I was worried you got lost."


    "Lost? With a cell phone and GPS?" Maya looked at her phone and saw the signal was weak.


    "The people at the bank warned me cell service in this town is really spotty. Perks of living in mountain towns." She tossed the rag from over her shoulder on the box with the bubble wrap.


    Maya let her eyes wander through the stack of boxes. "I met some other people from school," she said.


    "Oh?" Her mom raised a concerned brow.


    "Super chill. And hey, they invited me over tonight. Scrapbooking." She blurted the last word, watching her mom''s face carefully.


    Mom paused mid-sip, one eyebrow raised. The coffee hit the counter with a soft thunk. "Scrapbooking," she repeated, the word flat.


    Maya shrugged. "Well, surfing is out of the question. The surf in the mountains isn''t very good."


    Her mom wasn''t amused.


    "It''s OK, I really don''t have to go." Maya turned away.


    "Maya, hold on." Mom''s voice had lost its usual warmth. "We talked about this. New school, fresh start ¨C remember?"


    "I do." Maya said, already halfway toward her room. She couldn''t ever figure out her mother. She would encourage her to get out more and make friends, but when the opportunity arises, her mother would find an excuse to stop her. But in this situation, Maya understood since she''d gotten into a bit of trouble back home.


    From the kitchen, her mother let out a heavy sigh. "Help me unpack some of these boxes, and then we''ll talk."


    Maya snagged a box labeled ''MAYA ¨C CLOTHES'' on her way to her new room. Twenty minutes later, she was back in the kitchen finding places for the pots and pants thinking of the promise of an evening out dangling like a carrot. She turned and watched her mother take a sip of her coffee and wince. "It''s cold," said her mother.


    Back in her room, Maya spent the next few hours unboxing her belongings, assembling her desk, and sorting through her clothes while wondering what to wear tonight. Home in Carlsbad, among her friends, she''d be comfortable in a simple hooded sweatshirt and a pair of shorts and flip flops. Glancing out the window, she saw the sky fading from overcast gray to a bruised purple, heavy with the threat of evening rain. The pine-covered mountains, a majestic backdrop, were shrouded in a hazy mist.


    Perfect bonfire weather, Carlsbad-style, Maya thought with a pang. But here, in the crisp mountain air, sweatshirts and shorts wouldn''t cut it. Not tonight, anyway.


    Then she thought of Alex and his sexy messy hair, his kind, serious blue eyes that were maybe, just maybe, a little interested. Tonight was about making a good impression, and beach chic wouldn''t be practical here. So she''d opted for a more sophisticated look ¨C a sleek gray turtleneck that hugged her curves and flowed down almost like a skirt. Knee-high boots added a touch of practicality for the mountain climate, while the gold chain and layered black bracelets whispered of a newfound city edge.


    Just as she finished layering on jewelry, a sharp buzz cut through the room. Pulling out her phone, Maya''s heart lurched.


    An unknown number.


    Blood drained from her face as she read the warning: "DON''T GO TO THE PARTY."

 Chapter 3

    Bass pounded with the rhythm of a thousand nervous heartbeats as Maya stepped onto Cairo''s porch. Fairy lights, strung haphazardly across the sprawling house, cast a whimsical glow over a scene teeming with teenagers. Laughter, flirtatious banter, and the rhythmic thud of a beer pong game vibrated in the air. This wasn''t Carlsbad, with its familiar faces and laid-back vibe. Here, everyone seemed to know each other, their laughter a tightly knit circle Maya ached to be part of. Especially if that circle included Alex, the handsome boy with dark, windswept hair and eyes that held a hint of mystery.


    Taking a deep breath, Maya scanned the crowd for Sarah, her new friend. She noticed quite a few people were dressed in a dark forest shade of green, others in deep gold. Some of them wore kilts. Maya was surprised how common they were. She liked the look, but never really saw them much in Carlsbad. A flash of hot pink hair gave her away. Sarah, all bubbly enthusiasm and strategically placed neon streaks, spotted Maya too and waved her over. Relief flooded Maya, momentarily drowning out the chilling message tucked away in her phone''s pocket: "DON''T GO TO THE PARTY."


    As Maya weaved through the throng, Sarah practically vibrated with excitement. "Maya! You made it! I was starting to think you chickened out."


    "Almost did," Maya confessed, her voice barely audible over the din. "This is . . . " intimidating" wasn''t quite the word, but it was close. "Highlanders, huh?" Maya caught a glimpse of Alex leaning against the wall, talking among two others. One, a tall guy with long dark wavy hair, dark skin, dressed in designer clothes and dark nail polish, and another tall guy, lean yet muscular, with short blond curly hair, and pale skin, and a small scar through his left brow above his pale eyes. Alex wore a black v-neck t-shirt, the sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms, and a black kilt with a green and gold tartan between the pleats, showing his muscular legs.


    "Yep!" Sarah puffed out her chest. "This town was supposedly founded by Celtic druids who practiced magic, you know. Explains all the weird stuff that happens here."


    A shiver danced down Maya''s spine, a stark contrast to the heat radiating from the packed room. "Magic, huh?"


    "Don''t worry," Sarah nudged her playfully. "Most newbies think Bridgeport''s gonna be a snooze fest, all mountains and stuff. But trust me, this place is anything but boring."


    Little did Sarah know, Maya already knew that.


    "Don''t worry," Sarah said. "Everyone''s pretty chill. Most of them, anyway. Just ignore the goths in the corner plotting the downfall of humanity or whatever it is they do."


    A group of teenagers dressed in head-to-toe black huddled near a flickering bonfire, their expressions as unreadable as the song titles emblazoned on their t-shirts. Maya couldn''t help but steal a curious glance.


    One of the goths, a guy of an average build with ear-length black hair, one dangling earring, and wore a black t-shirt with the word, Harvest, scrawled on the front met her gaze. He met her gaze by happenstance, nodded politely, and went back into conversation with those around him.


    "Come on, let me introduce you to everyone!" Sarah grabbed Maya''s hand and pulled her towards a group gathered near a table laden with snacks.


    Emily was already there. Unlike Sarah, a whirlwind of pink and confidence, Emily was quiet and reserved. Her clothes, a subdued palette of grays and blues, seemed to blend into the background, the opposite of Sarah''s vibrant presence. Still, when Emily''s shy smile met Maya''s, a spark of warmth lit up her eyes.


    "It''s good to see you again," Emily said, and smiled softly. With one hand, she touched her thin, elegant, silvery necklace that complimented her equally simple dark top. Her other hand was tucked at her waist giving her a very shy, closed off expression.


    Maya wondered why, if she was such an introvert, would she torture herself by attending a house party where it seemed all of Bridgeport High was in attendance?


    "Hey," said Alex. He spoke in a low murmur that sent a shiver down Maya''s spine. The conversation sputtered out after that. Maya started wondering why she bothered to come here in the first place. She could be just as miserable staying at home watching live-streams of gamers or her own art projects. Sarah, sensing the awkwardness, launched into a hilarious story about a rogue squirrel stealing her lunch at school, drawing laughs from everyone. Maya played along, but her gaze kept flitting back to Alex, who seemed more interested in watching the crowd than engaging in conversation.


    When Sarah was finished with her anecdote, and the laughter subsided, Maya excused herself and followed a dimly lit hallway, hoping to find a restroom.


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    Taking a wrong turn, she found herself at the top of a narrow staircase leading down to the basement. The faint thrum of music filtered up from below, but otherwise, the basement seemed eerily quiet.


    Curiosity gnawing at her, Maya peeked down the stairs. A sliver of light escaped from a half-open door at the bottom. Hesitantly, she descended the steps, the old floorboards creaking beneath her weight.


    As she neared the door, the murmur of voices reached her ears. They were coming from outside, quite a distance. Far enough Maya could barely hear them. They didn''t sound particularly friendly.


    " . . . Over . . . Won''t let you . . . "


    The voice, laced with a dangerous edge, belonged to a male.


    A heavy thud followed the last sentence, sending a jolt of fear through Maya. Had he just hit someone?


    Panic surged through Maya. She didn''t know who these people were, or what was going on, but it sounded serious.


    Her eyes darted around, frantically searching for a way out. She spotted a small window near the ceiling, high enough to be out of reach. A rusty old pipe ran down the wall, disappearing into the darkness below.


    Desperate, Maya grabbed the pipe and swung herself onto it, ignoring the sharp pain that shot through her palms. Scrambling upward, she pushed the window open, the cold night air hitting her face like a slap. She squeezed out, landing awkwardly on the damp grass by the side of the house.


    Her heart hammered in her chest as she glanced back at the window, half-expecting someone to come bursting out, demanding to know what she''d heard. But the window remained undisturbed.


    Catching her breath, Maya hurried back around the house, trying to compose herself. Should she tell someone what she''d just overheard? No, that would be crazy. Who would even believe her?


    As she rejoined the party, a strange sense of unease settled over her. The music suddenly seemed too loud, the laughter too forced. The conversation she''d stumbled upon had tarnished the carefree atmosphere, reminding her that there were hidden depths beneath the surface of Bridgeport, depths she was only beginning to understand.


    "Hey, where''d you run off to?" Sarah asked as Maya approached.


    "Just needed some fresh air," Maya replied, forcing a smile.


    The night stretched on after she found a restroom. Sarah regaled her with tales of mishaps at past parties, while Emily slowly emerged from her shell, revealing a dry wit that made Maya laugh. Alex, however, remained distant. A few times, she caught him studying her with an odd intensity, as if he was trying to piece together a puzzle. Did he somehow know about the warning text? Or was it just her imagination playing tricks on her?


    Just as Maya was starting to relax, a strange thing happened. A tall, lanky boy with a bored expression and a smattering of acne offered her a red plastic cup filled with an unknown, sickly-sweet concoction. "Hey, newbie, want a drink?" The way he said "newbie" held an undercurrent of something she couldn''t quite define: a sneer, perhaps, or a veiled challenge.


    "Uh, no thanks," Maya stammered, pushing the cup away. "I''m fine."


    The boy''s smile faltered for a second, then returned, wider and somehow more unsettling. "Suit yourself," he shrugged. "More for me, I guess."


    He ambled off, his gaze lingering on Maya a beat too long. Unease prickled her skin. There was something off about him, a forced cheerfulness that didn''t quite reach his eyes. She had the vague sense she''d seen him before, but couldn''t remember where.


    A lull fell over the party. Conversations dwindled, the insistent beat of the music softened, and flickers of exhaustion danced at the edges of laughter. Maya''s gaze drifted outside. In the deepening twilight, the mountain pines were silhouettes against a backdrop of fading stars. An unexpected wave of homesickness washed over her, sharp as the cool breeze rustling through leaves.


    "You OK?" Sarah''s voice broke through Maya''s reverie. "You look . . . " She hesitated, " . . . homesick?" Sarah took a sip from a red solo cup.


    Maya forced a smile. "Nah, just tired. Guess I shouldn''t have stayed up so late last night."


    "We usually crash in one of Cairo''s spare rooms or on his bedroom floor," Emily suggested, a flicker of concern in her normally subdued eyes. "There''s tons of room if you don''t want to go home."


    Sarah clapped her hands together. "Or we could have a slumber party! I bet Cairo has some killer nail polish or something."


    A spark of excitement bubbled within Maya. In Carlsbad, sleepovers on the beach were a regular occurrence. Wrapped in blankets, they''d watch the sunrise and laugh until their stomachs hurt. This could be that, a taste of that comforting camaraderie.


    Before she could agree, a different voice cut in. "Maya, if you''re uncomfortable, I can give you a ride home," Alex offered. His usual intensity was softened with an unusual touch of concern. "No hard feelings."


    Maya hesitated.


    "Emily''s sober," Sarah added. "She doesn''t drink. But if you leave now, you''ll miss out." She held Maya''s hand, urging her to stay.


    A familiar prickle of unease made her skin crawl. Part of her desperately wanted to accept his offer, slip away into the safety of the night. Yet, looking at Sarah and Emily, a stubborn determination welled up inside. She wouldn''t let vague fears and ominous text messages chase her away.


    "Actually," Maya said, meeting Alex''s gaze head-on, "I think I''d like to stay. But thanks for the offer." The words tasted of defiance and a hint of newfound bravery.


    Alex nodded slowly, a shadow of disappointment flitting across his features. Yet, respect lingered in his eyes.


    "Awesome!" Sarah squealed, grabbing Maya''s arm. "Slumber party it is! Let''s go raid Cairo''s room. Where is he? You have to meet him!"


    As they trailed after Sarah, Maya couldn''t shake the lingering unease twisting in her gut. Bridgeport wasn''t Carlsbad. The shadows here held whispers of secrets, and the weight of the unknown settled heavily upon her. Tonight would be unlike any sleepover she''d known before, and with a jolt of excitement tinged with apprehension, she knew there was no turning back.


    Especially when they woke up the next morning and found the dead girl on the floor.

 Chapter 4

    Maya woke to chaos. Screams cut through the early morning haze, a jagged discord that sliced through her dreams. Sunlight streamed through a gap in the curtains, revealing Sarah and Emily huddled together on the far side of the room, faces pale and etched with horror.


    Her heart hammered a frantic tattoo against her ribs. "What is it?" she croaked, the words barely escaping her lips.


    Sarah''s trembling finger pointed toward the floor. "Down there," she whispered, her voice choked with terror.


    It took a moment for Maya''s sleep-fogged brain to process the scene. A body lay sprawled on the worn carpet, a gruesome tableau bathed in the unforgiving morning light. A girl, no older than Maya herself, her once vibrant-hair a tangled mess, eyes vacant and staring at nothing. A sheen of crimson stained the faded t-shirt stretched across her chest.


    "Oh my god," Maya choked out, a wave of nausea washing over her. The world tilted, the party''s echoes swirling into a sickening symphony in her head.


    "Alex," Emily whimpered, "We have to find Alex."


    The name jolted Maya back to the present. In the chaos, she''d almost forgotten about him. He''d been distant at the party, something simmering just beneath the surface. But surely, even he couldn''t have . . . Her stomach churned at the thought.


    Amidst the panicked cries, sirens wailed in the distance, growing closer with each passing second. Soon, Cairo''s once-raucous house was swarming with blue-uniformed figures, their presence a stark contrast to the party''s fading remnants. A gruff-faced officer barked orders, his voice laced with a grim urgency that mirrored the tightening knot in Maya''s stomach.


    The questions began, a relentless barrage fired at the shell-shocked group of teenagers. When had they found the body? Had they touched anything? Who was she? And, perhaps the most ominous of all: Did anyone here know what had happened to her?


    Maya''s head throbbed. The overheard argument suddenly flooded back to her, the menacing voices, the thud that had seemed so innocuous then, now a chilling echo of the tragedy that lay before them. It couldn''t be a coincidence. But how could anyone, even the harsh-voiced stranger from the basement, have predicted this?


    One of the officers, a woman with kind eyes and a weary expression, approached Maya. "You''re Maya, right?" she asked, flipping through a notebook.


    "Yes," Maya managed, her voice barely a whisper.


    The officer introduced herself as Officer Crystal Lofts. She wore her blonde hair pulled back into a tight ponytail. "Did you know the victim? Have you ever seen her before?"


    Maya stared blankly at the girl on the floor, feeling strangely disconnected. "No," she admitted. "I don''t recognize her."


    A flicker of suspicion crossed the officer''s face. "You were at the party last night. Could she have come with one of your friends?"


    Maya shook her head. "I''m new here. I just moved from Carlsbad."


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    The officer''s gaze sharpened. "That''s interesting. So you decided to stay overnight at a stranger''s house, even though you weren''t very comfortable?"


    Maya''s cheeks flushed, and she looked away, unable to meet the officer''s piercing stare. The warning text message burned in her memory, a constant reminder of her unease.


    "It was late," she stammered, struggling to find her voice. "I didn''t want to bother my mom."


    The officer regarded her for a moment, but didn''t press the issue further. As Maya was dismissed, the echo of the warning text reverberated through her mind: "DON''T GO TO THE PARTY."


    The party atmosphere had morphed into a suffocating haze of fear and suspicion. The teenagers huddled in separate corners, their eyes filled with shock, and a growing dread. Sarah, once a whirlwind of infectious energy, now sobbed uncontrollably into Emily''s shoulder. Emily, usually so reserved, stroked her friend''s hair with a trembling hand.


    Alex stood apart, his face a mask of carefully cultivated stoicism. His gaze met Maya''s for a brief moment, but he quickly looked away, the fleeting flash of surprise - or was it guilt? - vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.


    As the hours slipped by, the police combed through the house and its surrounding grounds, searching for answers. Yet, the dead girl remained a chilling unknown, a stranger whose life was tragically cut short amidst a night meant for careless fun. The overheard conversation, the menacing drink pusher, Alex''s strange behavior, and now a mysterious murdered girl ¨C it all formed a tangled web of unanswered questions. It was becoming increasingly clear that Bridgeport held far darker secrets than she could have ever imagined.


    Driven by a mix of fear, curiosity, and a stubborn desire to make sense of the impossible, Maya made a decision. She wouldn''t sit around waiting for the police to uncover the truth, not when there were pieces of the puzzle she might be able to find herself. Someone here knew more than they were letting on; she was sure of it.


    As the afternoon wore on and the initial shock started to fade, Maya carefully surveyed her surroundings. The police seemed focused on the house and its immediate exterior. With the backyard off-limits, Maya slipped out through the front door, feigning a need for fresh air. Her heart pounded as she passed the porch where only hours ago, the party had throbbed with life. Now, the brightly colored strings of fairy lights seemed like a cruel joke against the somber silence.


    Moving cautiously away from the house, Maya began her search. The sprawling backyard was a tangle of overgrown bushes, an old swingset creaking softly in the wind, and a basketball hoop with a tattered net. It all felt painfully ordinary, belying the gruesome discovery that had shattered the night.


    Desperate for a clue, anything that might offer a path forward, Maya pushed deeper into the wooded edge bordering Cairo''s property. Branches snagged at her clothes as she scanned the ground, her gaze searching for any item out of place, any sign of a struggle. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves underfoot and the insistent pounding of her own heart.


    Just when she was about to give up, her eye caught a glint of light amidst a cluster of ferns. Crouching down, she gingerly parted the leaves and gasped. A necklace, a delicate silver chain with a black and crimson crescent moon pendant, lay partially concealed in the damp soil. It looked expensive, not the kind of thing a random partygoer would carelessly lose.


    Maya reached for it, her fingers trembling. Did it belong to the victim? Had it been torn off in a struggle? Or was she grasping at straws, desperate to find a connection where there was none?


    As the sun began to dip below the tree line, casting long shadows across the untamed woodland, Maya knew it was time to return. Clenching the necklace tightly, she slipped back towards the house. The secret weight of the warning text nestled uneasily beside her newfound determination. Her investigation into the mystery of Bridgeport had only just begun.


    Someone at the party ¡ª the person who sent the text message ¡ª knew something terrible was going to happen. But why single Maya out? She didn''t know anyone other than Alex, Emily, and Sarah. Hell, she still hadn''t even met Cairo yet, and she had slept in his room with Emily overnight. What did Maya know? And how far is the killer willing to go to keep her quiet?

 Chapter 5

    The woods that bordered Cairo''s house seemed to breathe a heavy sigh of relief in the mid-afternoon''s quiet heat. A single crow cawed harshly, a stark contrast to the cheerful birdsong of Carlsbad mornings. Maya kicked at a cluster of damp leaves, sending them scattering. The necklace, cold and unyielding, hung heavy in her pocket.


    Sunlight cut through the trees in fractured beams, the slant of it highlighting the deep grooves in an ancient oak. Maya sank down against its rough trunk, memories of the previous night swirling through her head like fallen leaves caught in a sudden gust. The shouts of teenagers, the insistent thrum of music, the discovery that shattered the night''s fragile illusion of normalcy.


    She closed her eyes, but the image of the girl on the floor refused to fade. A blonde beauty with a splash of ruby red lipstick, her clothes somehow different, a strange echo of a bygone era in this small, modern town. An air of 50''s glamor clung to her even in death, a stark contrast to the pulsating music and neon lights of the party. The police officer''s voice pricked her conscience. "Did you know the victim? Have you ever seen her before?" A lie had slipped through her lips, born out of fear and a desperate, misguided notion that she could handle this herself.


    There weren''t many that stayed the night at Cairo''s for the police to question. They''d been given the names of all who may have attended the party the previous night. The investigators had questioned them all for hours, until the mid-afternoon when they were finally allowed to return home. Maya had pleaded for them not to call her parent''s, but Maya was underage and they had already done so.


    The necklace felt like a live coal burning a hole in her pocket. Maya withdrew it, the delicate chain slipping between her fingers. In the dappled light, it seemed handmade, with small imperfections that made handmade items, especially jewelry, so unique and special. It''s only other distinguishable characteristic was a red and black pendant, about half the size of a dime.


    Yet, its presence here, nestled amongst the remnants of a party gone horribly wrong, transformed it into something else entirely. A clue. A secret. A burden she wasn''t sure she could bear.


    A twig snapped behind her, and Maya whirled around, her heart hammering against her ribs. Had someone followed her? Was she about to be caught with the evidence, forced to explain herself when fear had bound her tongue the night before?


    But when she turned, only a flash of auburn fur signaled a retreating squirrel, scolding her for disturbing its foraging. Maya exhaled, a shaky laugh escaping her lips. Even the forest creatures were on edge, it seemed.


    No. She couldn''t let unfounded paranoia consume her. The rational part of her brain insisted the necklace was likely worthless, lost by some careless partygoer. And yet, a nagging voice, the one haunted by overheard arguments and cryptic warnings, whispered otherwise.


    Maya turned the necklace over, tracing the smooth crimson and black crescent moon dangling from the silver chain. If this belonged to the victim, it could hold the key to unraveling the mystery that had descended upon Bridgeport. But could she, a newcomer, an outsider, do what the police likely couldn''t? The weight of the unknown pressed down upon her, and for a moment, the woods seemed to close in, suffocating her newfound resolve.


    ------------------------------------


    Monday morning brought broken sunlight through puffy gray clouds, dappling her messy bed with squares of light. Clothes were strewn across a chair, the remnants of unpacking. She''d was thinking about the conversation she had with Sarah the night before.


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    Mrs. Banford was more angry that Maya had been involved with the police again than she was concerned about Maya''s health and safety. Bridgeport was supposed to be a fresh start. Her mother was overbearing, constantly asking if she wanted to talk about what had happened at the party. Her tone suggested she was asking out of parental obligation than genuine concern, and proceeded with giving her lists of chores and forcing her to go on errands with her rather than giving her the space she needed. So when Sarah called, Maya was grateful for the interruption.


    "I''m still trying to process it all," Sarah said.


    "Yeah, me too. Have you heard anything from the police? Perhaps a cause of death?"


    "Not yet. It''s strange, nobody saw her at all that night. It''s like, she just appeared there." There''s a tremor in Sarah''s voice that doesn''t quite match her words. Maya can''t shake the feeling that Sarah''s putting on a brave face.


    "Yeah, crazy. Did you, Emily, or Alex give my number out to anyone recently? Lots of unknown numbers have been blowing up my phone since the party."


    A brief pause. Sarah''s voice was quieter now. "No, I wouldn''t do that. You just got here. Not sure about Emily or Alex, though. We were all kind of, you know, shaken up last night. Didn''t really think about it."


    Sarah''s explanation felt hollow and Maya couldn''t tell if she was genuinely unaware or deliberately evasive.


    "Listen, I don''t feel so great. Think I might take a nap. Big day tomorrow, first day of junior year and all. See you at school then?"


    But that was last night, and now she was heading to school on her bike. She had used GPS to locate the school only a couple miles away, past rows of Queen Anne style houses, cute bistros, the Daily Bean, and through a beautiful park, thick and lush with towering pine trees and dense with ferns and other undergrowth.


    The last of summer''s warmth turned Bridgeport High School''s parking lot into a shimmering expanse of asphalt, promising a day filled with buzzing teenage energy and nervous first-day jitters. From across the lot, Maya watched Alex. His letterman jacket, a flash of Bridgeport green and gold, screamed ''popular jock,'' but it was the troubled glint in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine. The same flicker of tension she''d glimpsed beneath the chaotic disco lights at the party, before the night had shattered into something far darker.


    "Alex," she called out, her voice sounding small against the rumble of engines and rising student chatter.


    He turned, his trademark smirk replaced by a flash of surprise, or was it fear? But the emotion vanished as quickly as it appeared, masked by a careless facade. "What''s up, newbie?"


    The word stung, reminding her of her outsider status. But she needed answers. Maya swallowed, then held up the necklace, its silver chain catching the harsh sunlight. "I found this at the party. Is it yours?"


    His blue eyes narrowed, scanning the necklace, then flicking up to meet hers. As his gaze lingered on her, she noticed thin, fresh jagged scratches on his forearms, angry red against his tanned skin. They hadn''t been there at the party, had they?


    Alex shrugged off her unspoken question. "Nah. Someone probably lost it during the chaos."


    A lie, clear as the morning sky. His voice was tight, and he refused to meet her gaze. Why would he deny recognizing something so distinctive? Dread washed over her as she thought of girl''s lifeless body, the whispered rumors at the crime scene.


    "Alex," she asked, her voice trembling slightly, "did you see her? That girl ¡ª did you see her any time before we found her?"


    His gaze pierced her, as cold as the shadow cast by the mountains that surrounded Bridgeport. "This town has a way of burying its secrets," he said, his voice low and menacing. "Best for you to stay out of things that don''t concern you."


    A chill ran down Maya''s spine. He checked his phone, and a name flashed on the screen: "Hawk" ¨C bold and angry.


    "Who''s Hawk?" she began, but he interrupted her.


    "You know, you seemed pretty nervous when the cops came in at the coffee shop. What was it Maya? What are you hiding?"


    Maya shook her head. "It''s nothing."


    Alex''s lips pressed tight. He nodded. "Of course."


    Maya tried to protest, but Alex was already turning away, blending into a group of boisterous athletes.


    Left alone, the necklace felt cold and heavy in her hand. This wasn''t just high school drama; it was steeped in danger, in secrets that could drag her under. The scratches on his arms, a fleeting detail she couldn''t quite ignore, sent another wave of unease through her. Somehow, she knew that her carefree summer had just morphed into a terrifying mystery ¨C the kind where the next victim might be her.

 Chapter 6

    The pep rally was a cacophony of shrill cheers and booming music. Everyone who owned a letterman jacket seemed to be wearing it, a sea of Bridgeport green and gold emblazoned with bold white lettering. Cheerleaders bounced across the gym floor, their voices strained from chanting fight songs. The air reeked of popcorn, sweat, and desperation to win the upcoming homecoming game against their archrivals, the Krakens.


    Maya, perched on a bleacher at the furthest corner, felt a cold dread pool in her stomach. The boisterous display of school spirit felt grotesque, a stark contrast to the chilling image that haunted her thoughts. The memory of the girl, lying so still and lifeless in Cairo''s opulent mansion, clung to her like a shroud. It was hard to believe it had only been a weekend since the party, yet the world seemed to have tilted on its axis.


    Across the gym, a group of boys in Bridgeport''s track uniforms whooped and hollered.. Among them, Alex, his football letterman jacket a beacon of Bridgeport pride, stood out. But where once his easy smile had been infectious, it now felt strained, almost nervous.


    Suddenly, a ridiculous mascot lumbered onto the gym floor, its over-sized head resembling a scowling Scottish highlander. The kilted crowd erupted in cheers, the mascot tripping over its own over-sized boots in a clumsy attempt to dance. Maya couldn''t help but let out a cynical snort. It seemed tacky to be cheering after a fellow teenager was found dead only three days ago.


    The pep rally ended in a flurry of cheers and backslaps. Maya waited until the crowds thinned before approaching Sarah, who was fiddling with the hem of her cheerleading skirt, a stark contrast to her usually vibrant self.


    "Sarah," Maya started, her voice barely a whisper above the receding roar of the crowd.


    Sarah flinched, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and fear. "Hey," she mumbled, trying to muster a smile.


    "We need to talk," Maya pressed, her voice firmer than usual. "About what happened at Cairo''s."


    Sarah gnawed on her lip, her gaze flitting nervously around the emptying gym. "There''s nothing to talk about."


    "Don''t lie to me, Sarah," Maya said, her voice low and urgent. "You know what I''m talking about. The girl... what happened?"


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    Sarah''s chin quivered.


    When she sensed Sarah was about to turn away in order to avoid answering, she stepped in her way and said, "Someone sent me this text message before the party."


    Maya held out her phone so Sarah could read the warning on the screen.


    Sarah''s carefully constructed facade crumbled. Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "I can''t... I can''t take it anymore, Maya," she choked out, her voice thick with emotion.


    Guilt gnawed at Maya. Seeing Sarah so broken filled her with a fierce protectiveness, warring with the simmering anger bubbling inside her.


    "Just tell me," Maya urged, her voice softer now. "Tell me everything."


    Sarah took a shaky breath, wiping a tear from her cheek. "She wasn''t just some random girl, Maya. Her name was Arilla Pond. She was my friend, from Mariner''s Rest." The words tumbled out, laced with an overwhelming sense of grief and despair.


    Maya''s stomach lurched. All this time, the girl had been more than a nameless victim. A person, with a name, a life cut tragically short.


    "Your friend from... Mark''s school?" Maya asked, her voice hushed.


    Sarah nodded, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek. "We spent the summer together. She... she came to visit last weekend."


    "You could''ve told me. I know you didn''t kill her. You were with me or Emily the entire night."


    "I didn''t know it was her," Sarah blurted. "I was hungover and still really tired. I couldn''t see very well. And her hair, her makeup. She was different."


    Maya gave her a curious look.


    "Arilla isn''t blonde, and she never wore makeup. At least not that . . . Garish. She was unrecognizable."


    "What happened, Sarah?" Maya pressed, needing to understand the full picture.


    "There was something . . . something between her and this guy Mark Dodson. He''s a football player for the Krakens. Mariner''s Rest''s star player." Sarah stammered, her voice barely a whisper. "They met over the summer, and then . . . " She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence, the weight of the revelation crushing down on her.


    "And then what?" Maya pressed, her voice a tight coil of urgency.


    Tears streamed down Sarah''s face. "I don''t know all the details," she cried. "I didn''t even know she was at the party. Nobody did. Whomever killed her, didn''t do it at the party."


    Fury and fear mingled in Maya''s gut. Mark, the golden boy, involved in something sinister? Was Sarah simply trying to deflect blame, or was there more to the story?


    "Sarah," Maya asked, each word measured and deliberate. "Do you think Mark could he have hurt her?"


    Maya stared, a sense of betrayal twisting in her gut. How could Sarah be more concerned with Mark or her own guilt when her friend was dead? But as she looked at Sarah, crumpled and trembling, Maya felt a pang of pity. Sarah was caught in something far over her head.


    "Listen, Sarah," Maya said with a newfound urgency. "We need to figure this out, for Arilla. But you have to tell me everything."


    Sarah nodded slowly, a flicker of desperation in her eyes. Maya''s internal conflict raged. Could she trust Sarah? Or was she unknowingly being led into a deeper web of deception, becoming entangled in something that could put her in danger too?

 Chapter 7

    The scream ripped Maya from a sleep as cold and suffocating as a tomb. She gasped, the taste of metallic terror thick on her tongue. The dream, once blurry and indistinct, solidified into a horrifying tableau. Arilla. Not sprawled lifeless on the opulent mansion floor, but standing, eyes locked with Maya''s in a silent scream.


    Those eyes. No longer blank or vacant, but filled with a chilling, desperate plea. A raw, primal terror that mirrored the icy dread that had clamped around Maya''s heart since the nightmare had begun. Arilla''s face, once serene in death, was contorted in a silent scream, a silent accusation.


    It wasn''t just the sight; it was the feeling. A psychic connection, a chilling touch that transcended the boundaries of sleep and wakefulness. The stench of death clung to Maya, mingling with the metallic tang of fear. Her own scream, a strangled gasp, tore through the oppressive silence of her room.


    Sitting bolt upright, Maya clawed at the sheets, desperate to escape the suffocating weight of the dream. Her heart hammered a frantic rhythm against her ribs, each beat echoing the silent scream in her head. It was more than a nightmare; it was a message, a chilling premonition that gnawed at the edges of her consciousness.


    Arilla wasn''t just a ghost in the machine, a tragic memory haunting Maya''s waking hours. She was a presence, a desperate plea for justice that resonated within the very core of Maya''s being. This wasn''t a game of teenage intrigue anymore. This was a chilling obligation, a vow whispered in the language of nightmares.


    The school cafeteria, once a haven of adolescent chatter and spilled lunches, transformed into a scene from a bad horror film. Lunch trays lay abandoned, conversations ceased mid-sentence as Maya scanned the sea of faces for Alex. His usual freckled grin was replaced by a facade of forced cheer, his eyes flickering nervously away from Maya''s searching gaze. The weight of a dark secret hung heavy in the air, a suffocating presence that chilled Maya to the bone.


    "Can we talk?" Maya''s voice, a low growl laced with suppressed anger, cut through the unnatural silence. Alex jumped, his smile faltering like a dying flame. "Sure," he mumbled, his eyes darting towards the table where the other football players sat oblivious, lost in a conversation.


    Leading him to a deserted corner, Maya wasted no time. "About the party, Alex. What really happened?"


    His facade crumbled completely. "I told you what happened," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.


    "Not good enough, Alex," Maya pressed, her voice cold and sharp. "What about Arilla? How did she even get there?"


    Shame flickered in his blue eyes, quickly replaced by a flicker of defiance. I don''t know anything about it. I didn''t even know she was coming."


    Anger, cold and simmering, coiled in Maya''s gut. "But why was Sarah so scared? Did you know something happened to her?" she pressed, her voice a low growl.


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    Alex hesitated, his gaze darting nervously around the room. "Look, Maya," he started, his voice defensive. "This doesn''t concern you. Drop it."


    His words, heavy with betrayal, echoed in the sterile emptiness of the cafeteria. The carefree facade of her best friend, the boy she''d trusted with her secrets, lay shattered. In his place stood a stranger, his eyes filled with a chilling mix of fear and defiance.


    A cold dread seeped into Maya''s bones. Their friendship, once a source of comfort, was now a festering wound, a constant reminder of the dark secret that lurked beneath the surface of their seemingly idyllic lives. With a curt nod, Maya turned away, the weight of betrayal a heavy cloak draped over her shoulders.


    The weight of her confrontation with Alex hung heavy on Maya''s shoulders as she left the school. The image of Arilla, pleading and terrified, haunted her as she walked, turning the sunny afternoon into a sinister tableau with long shadows and whispering corners.


    Cutting across the park, she passed the football field, a burst of activity against the backdrop of the setting sun. With a jolt of recognition, she spotted Alex amongst the green and gold uniforms, his movements sharp, his voice barking out commands. Every shout, every thud of a tackle, felt like an accusation echoing through the warm afternoon air.


    His gaze flickered towards her, a cold flash of recognition and something akin to disdain twisting his usually boyish features. Even from the distance, his eyes held an icy emptiness that sent a shiver down Maya''s spine. It wasn''t guilt, nor sorrow ¡ª it was a chilling void where a friend once stood. He returned to the drill, shutting her out as if discarding a broken toy, leaving Maya feeling even more isolated and alone.


    Her familiar walk home morphed into a gauntlet of unseen predators. Each rustling leaf, creaking porch swing, amplified the sensation of being watched. Maya hurried down the cracked sidewalk, her backpack heavy against her shoulders, the lingering image of Alex''s chilling indifference fueling her apprehension.


    Just beyond the gnarled oak tree, the usual boisterous chorus of birds fell silent. A prickling sensation crawled over Maya''s skin. She wasn''t alone. With a sharp turn, she scanned the sidewalk, the street ¨C nothing but empty pavement. Yet, the suffocating feeling persisted, as though a heavy weight pressed down on the very air itself. There was no noise, no movement, only an overwhelming presence she couldn''t shake.


    She wasn''t alone.


    Mustering a facade of calm, Maya continued walking, her heart a frantic drumbeat in her ears. A glance over her shoulder revealed nothing out of the ordinary, but her sixth sense screamed a warning. She subtly quickened her pace, eyes darting between the quaint houses and overgrown bushes. Someone was following her.


    A figure detached itself from the deep shadow of a porch across the street. Tall and lean, dressed in unremarkable clothes that blended seamlessly with the fading light. He moved with an unnatural fluidity, a predator silently observing its prey. He didn''t pursue, simply watched, his presence felt even as Maya turned the final corner toward her street.


    Relief washed over her as she neared the comforting familiarity of her home.


    With a jerk of her head, Maya scanned the deserted street, searching for the source of the oppressive feeling. Empty sidewalks stretched before her, manicured lawns the only witnesses to her rising panic. Yet, the sense of unseen eyes remained, a weight on the very air itself.


    Fear, cold and sharp, clawed at her throat. Forcing a semblance of calm, Maya continued walking, her heart a frantic drum solo in her chest. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed nothing out of the ordinary, but her intuition screamed a different story.


    Suddenly, a figure detached itself from the inky blackness of a porch across the street. She didn''t have time to scream before a hand clamped around her mouth and dragged her into the bushes.

 Chapter 8

    Maya thrust herself backwards, trying to topple her and her attacker over. He was taller than her. Strong. He felt her pulling her down. Pulling them both down.


    And then she felt his hand leave her mouth. His weight lifted off her.


    She spun around and saw the small scar barely noticeable through his left brow, and immediately recognized him from the party.


    He put his finger to his lips urging her to stay quiet.


    "What the hell?! Are you kidding me with this?" She hit him in the shoulder and shoved him. Hard. But she didn''t run.


    He motioned for her to try to stay quiet. "Please, I''m sorry. Did you find the necklace?"


    Maya blinked. Her heart was thudding, head spinning. The adrenaline rush was still in her blood. She was aware her body was trembling.


    The boy with the scar was calm, but looking at her intently with his pale amber eyes.


    "How did you know about the necklace?" Then she added, "It was you who sent me that message, wasn''t it? How did you get my number?"


    The questions were flooding through her and out her mouth before she realized she may be staring face-to-face with Arilla''s killer.


    "Alex gave you my number," Maya concluded. They were both on the same football team. Both were wearing football letterman jackets.


    "No. He didn''t exactly give it to me," the boy with the scar said. "I sort of took it. When he wasn''t paying attention, before his screen locked, I grabbed your number when he told me about you."


    Maya looked at him, her eyes narrowed in suspicion.


    "After you guys met, he came over to my place after practice to pre-game before Cairo''s party. He basically told me he met you earlier and invited you to the party."


    Maya inadvertently took a small step away from him. "You knew Arilla was going to be murdered. That''s why you sent me the text message."


    "No!" he blurted. "I knew something was going to happen. I just didn''t know what. This town is full of drama and danger. I try to warn all the new people to keep a low profile and stay away as much as possible. Bad things happen here. A lot of people get hurt."


    "You do realize how crazy you sound."


    "That''s what all the new kids say. They never listen, and they end up paying for it. Sometimes with their lives. They get involved with the wrong people." There was a genuine heartfelt pain in his voice. A kind of weight that only came from experience.


    Maya was listening now. And she believed him. He wasn''t lying. She''d only been in Bridgeport for three-and-a-half days and already was involved with a murder and in trouble with her mom, again.


    Maya looked at him. Everything about him other than the scar was plain. A shade of brown hair that didn''t really look like any color at all. Pale skin with a few freckles. Even his clothes were drab. But the letterman jacket ¡ª .


    "Aren''t you supposed to be at football practice right now?"


    "I needed to talk to you. I saw you take Arilla''s necklace, but you didn''t tell the police. I was suspicious you had something to do with her murder."


    Maya''s eyes narrowed. "You saw me take it, and you didn''t tell the police either."


    The boy with the scar searched her eyes, trying to read her. "There''s only two reasons you didn''t tell. One, because you were involved with her murder somehow and wanted to cover up the evidence against you, or two, you have your own suspicions. And since your new and from somewhere very far, it''s unlikely if not impossible that you would have any connection to Arilla substantial enough to kill her."


    "You could''ve just talked to me," Maya said, annoyed.


    The boy''s eyes softened. "I''m sorry. I didn''t know any other way to reach out to you, and when I saw you at the party, you were the only person I didn''t recognize. By then it was too late. Do you still have the necklace?"


    "It''s in a safe place." Maya said. Then she added, "if something happened to me, the necklace will turn up."


    "It''s in your pocket, isn''t it," he said.


    Maya was silent. "No . . . "


    "Well I definitely know you''re not the killer," he smiled. "You''re a terrible liar."


    Maya was still for a moment. Then she laughed. Uneasy and nervous.


    "Keep the necklace safe. I know you''re as desperate as I am to find the truth about Arilla. I''m planning to go Mariner''s Rest to do some digging." The boy with the scar turned slightly and took a few steps back.


    Maya thought for a moment. "When are you going?"


    He turned over his shoulder. "Right now." He began to walk away and once again turned. "You coming?"


    In his small, beaten Toyota pickup, Maya sat in the passenger seat watching the tall pine trees pass by, and the white puffy clouds grow puffier as they rode over the pass and began to make their descent. It was still warm out, despite the ocean breeze, and with every passing mile the smell of seaweed and salt grew stronger, and felt the air grow humid.


    "I''m Ethan, by the way. And you''re Maya. Again, I apologize for scaring you with that text. And again just now. It''s just that I''ve learned when I try to warn people directly, they usually blow me off. Or sometimes threaten me. I found that scaring them away has more effective result."


    "I''ll forgive you when we find out what happened to Arilla." Maya looked at him. "If you got my number out of his phone without him knowing, did you happen to see any other suspicious conversations?"


    Ethan thought for a moment. "No, nothing out of the ordinary. Video games. Football stuff. I mean, I wasn''t exactly looking through his phone to spy on him."


    "You didn''t see any messages from anyone named, ''Hawk''?"


    His expression furrowed. He looked at her and then back to scanning the road.


    "Who is Hawk?" Maya asked.


    Ethan cocked his head to the side, contemplating his next words. "Do you know?" He asked. "Did you snoop through his phone?"


    "I wasn''t exactly looking through his phone to spy on him," Maya threw his words back at him.


    "Damn. It''s like the whole world has access to his phone. That guy . . . How much did you see?"


    "Enough."


    "So how did you feel about it?"


    Maya grew tense. When she didn''t respond, Ethan glanced at her again. Seeing her growing increasingly worried, he said, "It''s OK. You can relax. I''m Hawk. It''s his nickname for me. Alex has nicknames for all the guys on the team. He calls me Hawk because of my wingspan." Ethan kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other he stretched out to the passenger seat where Maya was sitting. "I''m lanky. I''ve got long limbs. Long sleeves are more like three-quarter sleeves to me. It''s why my clothes are usually baggy. I''ve got to buy them one or two sizes larger."


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    Maya laughed. "Ethan. Ethan Hawke. Funny."


    Mariner''s Rest was a charming fishing community. Rows of creaky docks, floated between beaches occupied by small clusters of people. The waterfront was lined with old wooden weather-worn boutique shops, bait shops, and pirate-themed gift stores. A building shaped like a windmill over a small harbor offered whale-watching excursions. A pirate flag blew in the wind on top. She could smell saltwater taffy and fried foots mixed with the salty air. She was surprised to see how picturesque it was, but how small it was, tucked away between the mountains. They passed under a wooden archway signifying they had entered the waterfront commercial district. A sign read: MARINER''S REST HISTORIC DOWNTOWN" with a population sign of 1,869 people. Bidgeport was nearly 5,000.


    The sugary scent of waffle cones and bubblegum ice cream assaulted Maya as she and Ethan pushed open the aged glass door of Salty''s Scoops. A wave of nostalgia crashed over her ¨C sticky fingers, childhood laughter, the promise of summer adventures. But the air inside held a different edge today, a prickling tension that snagged at the back of her throat.


    Mariner''s Rest wasn''t Bridgeport. Here, faded glory clung to everything like dust on forgotten trophies. The ice cream parlor was no exception. Crimson red Naugahyde booths cracked at the seams, and glittering black championship banners hung limply from the ceiling, boasting of past victories for the "Krakens," Mariner''s Rest High''s football team. One banner, prominently displayed, featured a monstrous red and black Kraken mascot with glowing yellow eyes. It seemed to leer down at them, a silent sentinel guarding the secrets of this insular town.


    A boisterous laugh erupted from a booth in the back corner, drawing Maya''s eye. There, amidst a group of equally loud teenagers, sat a boy clad in a crimson and black Kraken letterman jacket. He held court, his booming voice punctuated by playful shoves and exaggerated gestures.


    Maya leaned into Ethan. "That''s obviously Mark," she said.


    "How could you tell?" Ethan rolled his eyes.


    He wasn''t what Maya expected. He wasn''t as tall as the other football players, but he was built with a perfect Adonis body, stocky, but shredded with wavy rich brown hair that shined as if it were silk, and confident demeanor in his movements. But there was a harsh edge to his laughter, a flicker of something cruel in his blazing brown eyes that made her skin prickle.


    As if sensing her gaze, Mark turned his head, his smile faltering for a brief moment before snapping back into place. He nudged the girl next to him, whispering something that sent a ripple of giggles through the group.


    "How did you know he''d be here?" Maya asked, as they walked up to the counter.


    "I didn''t. But this is a popular place, especially in the summer."


    The menu was mounted on the wall. There were at least two and a half doze ice cream flavors. All the basic ones, but many unique ones she''d never tried: strawberry balsamic, pumpkin and chai, and even an olive oil ice cream topped dill pickle sorbet. It reminded her of her favorite ice cream spot in Los Angeles, Salt ''n Straw.


    A kindly-looking woman with a nametag reading "Betty" approached them from the other side of the counter.


    "Welcome! What can I tempt you two with today?" she beamed.


    Ethan flashed a charming smile. "We''re taking our time deciding, Betty. Maybe you can tell us a little about the local legends. Any ghosts or mysteries Mariner''s Rest likes to keep hidden?"


    Betty''s smile faltered slightly. "Oh, well, you know, all these little maritime villages have their secrets. Mountain ones too, I suppose." She winked at them conspiratorially before moving on to another customer. Lines were forming out the door.


    Maya exchanged a glance with Ethan. The air in the ice cream parlor suddenly felt thick with unspoken secrets. The playful banter from Mark''s group seemed to grate on her nerves now, each booming laugh a challenge, a dare to unearth the truth. It felt strange to just walk up to their table like idiots and accuse him ¡ª of what exactly? So they took their shakes outside and stood next to a bench along the beach that faced the ocean. They could approach him there more directly without disrupting the entire ice cream parlor.


    "We need to talk to him. Find out why Arilla was hanging out at a Brigeport party.." Maya''s voice rose a pitch. "If I wait, sit on my hands while he struts around like he owns the place, it''ll drive me crazy."


    "Maya, Arilla wasn''t hanging out at the Bridgeport party," Ethan said. "Didn''t you hear?"


    Maya shot him a curious look.


    "Arilla was dead before the party. Someone strangled her in one location then moved her body into the house while everyone was passed out. No one saw a thing. And those who thought they saw something were too fucked up to be sure they saw anything. And it was dark."


    Maya remained silent for a moment. "Alright," she said. "But let''s be smart about this. We need a plan . . . "


    They watched as Mark and the other Krakens filtered out of the Salty''s Scoops and headed toward the beach.


    "The necklace," she murmured, the thought striking her like a bolt of lightning. "We ask him about the moon necklace."


    Ethan blinked. "Clever. Not too confrontational, might throw him off guard if he''s hiding something."


    A spark of dark excitement surged through Maya. "And if he blows us off?"


    "Then," Ethan said, meeting her eyes with a flicker of shared understanding, "we''ll know we''ve hit a nerve."


    Plan in place, they scanned the crowd again. Their target wasn''t hard to find. The red and black of the Kraken jacket practically glowed in the distance, a beacon of arrogance calling them forward. A grim smile touched Maya''s lips. It was time to rattle the king of Mariner''s Rest.


    The beach stretched out before them, a vast expanse of sand merging with the hazy horizon. The raucous crowds near the boardwalk had thinned, leaving a scattering of sunbathers and the rhythmic crash of waves as a desolate backdrop. It was the perfect setting for a tense showdown.


    Mark and his group were sprawled on a cluster of beach towels, their laughter echoing slightly hollow in the open space. Maya took a fortifying breath, ignoring the tremor in her hand Let''s do this," she muttered to Ethan. He nodded, a quiet presence at her side as they approached Mark''s group.


    Mark spotted them first, a flicker of recognition passing over his features before his cocky grin returned. "What the hell are you doing here, Ethan?" He turned to Maya.


    She realized he was looking her up and down, checking her out.


    "Who''s your girl?" Mark asked.


    "I''m not his girl. And my name is Maya."


    Mark nodded. "What do you guys want?"


    "I wanted to ask you something," Maya said, showing no sign of intimidation.


    "Shoot. Let''s see if I''m in the mood to answer."


    Maya ignored the way her heart pounded against her ribs. She stepped closer, her voice low and accusatory. "Did you buy Arilla a gift this summer? A necklace, maybe?"


    The grin slid from Mark''s face. His gaze darted nervously towards his friends, seeking support, but they watched with varying degrees of confusion and unease. The isolation of the beach suddenly amplified the tension.


    Mark hesitated, a flicker of panic replacing the bravado. He was on the defensive now, his kingdom of sand crumbling around him.


    Mark stepped forward. "How stupid do you think I am. I''ve been questioned by the police enough already. I don''t need it from you and Nancy Drew over here."


    His friends shifted, a mixture of unease and misplaced loyalty evident on their faces. A girl with a mass of sun-streaked blonde curls stepped forward hesitantly. "Chill out, Mark. They''re just asking..."


    "The hell they are!" Mark cut her off, his face flushed with anger. "You don''t know this girl, Becca. Don''t know what she''s trying to pull. "


    Maya felt a flicker of doubt. But then, Arilla''s face flashed through her mind, the vacant stare a chilling reminder.


    "Easy there, guys," Ethan interjected, his voice smooth but laced with a subtle warning. "We''re just having a conversation. No need for hostility."


    Mark scoffed, but Ethan''s calm seemed to slightly temper his rage. Maya seized the moment. "We found something that may have belonged to her."


    One of Mark''s friends, a bulky guy with a shaved head, took a step towards Maya. "Look, we don''t know what you''re talking about. Time for you guys to buzz off."


    But Maya didn''t budge. This bully tactic wasn''t working. In fact, it solidified her resolve. "We''re not leaving until we know what happened to Arilla," she said.


    Mark''s anger exploded. "You don''t know anything about Arilla! And you have no right to come here and accuse me!" His voice was a near-snarl. Veins pulsed in his thick neck, one fist clenched at his side. The other pointing at them.


    Fear, a cold prickle, ran down Maya''s spine. She realized, with a jolt, that she might have underestimated Mark. This wasn''t just arrogance; there was a dangerous edge to his temper.


    Just then, a booming voice cut through the charged atmosphere. A weathered-looking man, with a lifeguard whistle around his neck, strode towards them.


    "Hey! What''s all this ruckus?" he boomed. Mark''s shoulders slumped slightly. The situation had taken an unexpected turn.


    Frustration gnawed at Maya''s gut. "Alright, I need you all to break whatever this is up," the lifeguard commanded.


    Ethan offered a placating smile. "Yeah, no worries. Just a friendly chat."


    Maya debated her next move. Backing down felt like surrender, yet the lifeguard''s presence effectively shut down further questioning. She had one last shot.


    Reaching into her pocket, Maya retrieved the Arilla''s necklace. "Actually," Maya said, "we found this necklace at Cairo''s house the morning after she died." Her gaze landed squarely on Mark.


    Mark flinched. For a split second a subtle twitch of pain appeared subtle on his face. Then his expression twisted to anger. "I don''t know anything about it."


    Disappointment clawed at her, but the lifeguard''s stern expression left her with little choice. With a final, searing look at Mark, she turned to leave.


    As they walked away, the rhythmic crash of the waves seemed to mock their failure. They''d gotten nowhere, and worse, alerted Mark to their suspicions.


    "He''s lying," Ethan muttered, his voice low.


    "I know," Maya replied. "But the lifeguard . . ."


    "A dead end," Ethan finished her thought. He paused, then said, "We can''t let him win. We need a new plan. And maybe," he added, a glint of mischief in his eyes, "someone to distract the lifeguard while we do some digging."


    A spark of hope flickered in Maya''s chest. Their confrontation on the beach had revealed more than just Mark''s hostility; it had revealed their own unwavering determination to find the truth.


    Walking with Ethan back to his Toyota, she shifted her gaze from the beach. He seemed vacant. Even a bit worried. When he dropped her off at her home on the outskirts of Bridgeport, he stopped her just as she was stepping out of his truck.


    He stared at her dead in the eyes, his gaze serious, and tone low and deep. "Be careful, Maya. I''ve got a very bad feeling."

 Chapter 9

    The chipped mugs on the table mocked Maya with their familiarity. The Daily Bean, once a haven of laughter and shared secrets, now reeked of stale coffee and simmering tension. Sarah, usually bubbly even after a long day at school, sat slumped in the booth, her eyes red-rimmed and puffy. Emily, her once lively chatter replaced by a nervous fidgeting, kept her gaze stubbornly downcast.


    Alex, his usual swagger subdued, leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You just won''t drop it, will you, Maya? Poking around town like a vulture, picking at old wounds."


    A knot of anger tightened in Maya''s stomach. "Wounds? Arilla was murdered, Alex! Not some inconvenient hangnail."


    Sarah flinched, her voice small. "Please, can''t we just talk like normal people?" The desperate plea hung heavy in the air, a stark contrast to the carefree chatter that usually filled the coffee shop.


    Emily, a flicker of shame flitting across her face, tapped a chipped blue nail polish against the table, the rhythmic sound a metronome of growing disquiet.


    Maya pressed on. "What about the necklace, Alex? Why did Mark flip out when I mentioned it?"


    A cold silence descended upon the booth, broken only by the hiss of the coffee machine. Alex and Emily exchanged a quick glance, a flicker of something akin to fear passing between them.


    "Necklace?" Alex scoffed, the casualness in his voice a touch too forced. "Maya I don''t know why you''re even still holding onto it. If that necklace was as important as you think, why haven''t you turned it over to the police?"


    Maya''s jaw clenched.


    "Because you think it might not be anything," Alex said.


    "Maybe not. Maybe. I don''t think it''s a coincidence though, that Arilla is from Mariner''s Rest, and the next day we found a necklace with their school colors on it. And the argument I heard outside, where the necklace was . . . "


    "Argument? Maya, you''re making things up. You don''t know what you heard."


    "No, I''m not!" Maya slammed her fist on the table, the chipped mug clattering precariously. Mark was really troubled when I showed it to him. He got really angry."


    Sarah, tears threatening to spill over, buried her face in her hands. "Stop it, Maya! Just . . . stop." Her pleas carried a desperate edge, a chilling premonition of secrets best left buried.


    Anger warred with a gnawing sense of unease within Maya. Were they all in on it? Was their friendship built on a foundation of lies?


    Alex slammed his fist on the table, his face contorted with rage. Emily jumped and Sarah wined. Other customers were staring, and the employees cast concerned glances. Maya was worried they were going to get kicked out. "I''m done with this!" said Alex. "You''re accusing everyone but the real culprit!" He threw a withering look at Maya before storming out of the coffee shop, leaving the door swinging shut with a loud bang.


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    Emily flinched at the noise, but didn''t look up. "I gotta go," she mumbled, her voice barely audible. Without meeting Maya''s gaze, she scurried out of the booth, leaving Sarah alone with the wreckage of their friendship.


    Sarah sighed, a world of weariness in her eyes. "Look, Maya," she said softly. "We all miss Arilla. But this . . . this obsession isn''t healthy. Let it go. Let the police handle it." Her voice broke slightly. "We used to be friends. Can''t we just . . . go back to that?"


    Maya''s heart ached for the easy camaraderie they once shared. But the truth about Arilla''s death burned too brightly for her to ignore. "I can''t," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I have to find out what happened."


    With a heavy heart, Maya turned and left the coffee shop, the scent of coffee suddenly cloying. Outside, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows, painting the usually vibrant street in an unsettling gloom. The sun was setting earlier, Maya observed, and dark clouds formed in the distance. Soon they would block the sunlight and cast the town in dreary twilight. As the summer heat gave way to the first whispers of autumn, the wind picked up, carrying a chill that mirrored the one in her heart.


    Maya reached for her phone to call Ethan. Alex had mentioned something about the necklace, which gave her an idea, but she''d need a ride back to Mariner''s Rest. She let the phone ring. . . Once . . . Twice. . .


    Three times. . .


    A prickle of unease crawled up her spine. She glanced down the street and spotted a dark car idling a few blocks back. The model was obscured by the fading light, but a sense of dread gripped her. The front license plate was missing, adding to her growing fear.


    She hesitated, phone clutched tightly in her hand. Then, with a surge of adrenaline, she went to her bike secured in the bike rack. Her shaky hands unhinged the lock.


    Mounting her bike, she began to pedal the rest of the distance toward her home.


    As Maya left the coffee shop, the sky mirrored the turmoil in her heart. The sun, once a cheerful beacon, surrendered to the encroaching darkness, casting long shadows across the street. Puffy white clouds morphed into monstrous storm beasts, their fluffy edges bleeding into streaks of ominous gray.


    The wind, once a gentle caress, now whipped through her hair, carrying the frosty promise of autumn''s chill. She peddled away from downtown''s cheerful lights, tires crunching over fallen leaves as she entered a maze of quiet residential streets. Houses stood dark and silent, secrets festering unseen beneath their normal facades. With each breath, the scent of freshly mowed lawns morphed into the musty dampness of approaching rain. Bridgeport was a pretty town, but she wondered of the secrets inhabiting the homes.


    Her legs burned, each frantic turn of the bike''s pedals a desperate attempt to escape the fear gnawing at her belly. The houses of the quiet neighborhood were dark shapes, windows like silent, uncaring eyes, judging her as she fled.


    Behind her, the crunch of leaves echoed, a sinister drumbeat keeping time with the hammering of her heart. She stole a glance over her shoulder. The dark sedan was a block behind now, the empty space where a license plate should be a gaping, taunting grin. It was the same car, the one from outside The Daily Bean ¨C the one without a face.


    One block. Two. Each turn brought the car closer, the sound of its engine a predatory growl. Panic flooded her senses ¨C the sweet smell of cut grass transformed into something sour and suffocating. She gulped for air.


    Maya''s scream was drowned out by the roar of the engine as the sedan barreled over her.

 Chapter 10

    The world spun as Maya catapulted herself off the sidewalk into a tangle of overgrown bushes. The screech of brakes filled her ears, followed by the retreating roar of an engine. She lay trembling in the prickly undergrowth, the smell of damp leaves and crushed earth mingling with the sickening stench of fear.


    Someone had tried to kill her. Someone knew how close she was getting to the truth.


    Rough hands gripped her shoulders, startling her out of the icy depths of shock. "Maya, are you okay? Oh god, it almost . . . Are you hurt?"


    Ethan. His voice, usually so calm, was laced with a raw fear she''d never heard before. His eyes were wide, filled with concern. Or was it something else?


    "I''m fine," she choked out, pushing herself out of the bushes, flinching away from his outstretched hand. "What are you doing here?"


    A shadow crossed Ethan''s face, a momentary flicker of darkness amidst his concern. "I saw you riding. I needed to talk to you."


    "Funny coincidence," she spat, brushing leaves and dirt from her jeans. "Seems like everyone in this town knows my every move."


    "Don''t make me the villain here, Maya," he retorted, his voice sharp. "Someone just tried to turn you into roadkill."


    He was right. The danger was real, closing in from all sides. But was Ethan a protector, or another menacing silhouette lurking in the darkness? Maya shivered, her fear turning to icy resolve. She needed to get to the bottom of this.


    Maya''s heart pounded against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing the pulse of fear coursing through her veins. The streetlights cast eerie, elongated shadows, making the familiar neighborhood seem alien and sinister. Her gaze darted from side to side, each rustle of leaves a potential sign of her attacker lurking in the darkness.


    "Take me back to Mariner''s Rest," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking toward the end of the street, as if expecting the sedan to reappear.


    "Maya, are you sure? Maybe you should stay at my place tonight, just to be safe."


    A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Safe? Where''s safe anymore, Ethan?" She didn''t wait for him to respond.


    "I just want this nightmare to be over."


    Ethan helped Maya to her feet. She looked at her jeans, now torn at the knees where she''d scraped herself on the pavement. Her midriff top was ripped at the sleeves where the thorny bushes scratched at the material and cut open her skin. Small cuts. Her adrenaline kept her from feeling the pain, though she was sure she''d feel it tomorrow.


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    Once steady on her feet, Ethan brushed the leaves and twigs from her shoulders as she looked at her bike. The front rim was bent, the tire flat.


    She cursed under her breath. At least she was alive. No broken bones.


    Ethan followed silently, their footsteps a discordant rhythm on the cracked pavement. The silence hung between them, heavy and accusatory. Maya knew if she looked at him, she''d see the questions lurking in his eyes, a reflection of her own doubts.


    The air crackled with unspoken suspicion.


    The walk back was a tense affair. Maya wheeled her mangled bike, the warped metal a stark reminder of her close brush with death. Ethan walked beside her, his silence filled with an uneasy mixture of concern and suspicion.


    Twice, at the sound of a rustling bush or a car speeding down the street, he grabbed her arm protectively. Each time, Maya flinched, the touch a jarring reminder of her vulnerability and the swirling vortex of doubt surrounding them all.


    "Do you need a hospital?" His voice broke the silence, tinged with a concern that made her heart ache for the normalcy they had lost.


    "I''m shaken up," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "But not hurt." She forced a weak smile. "Turns out, I''m better at dodging cars than tackling football players."


    A flicker of humor sparked in his eyes, momentarily eclipsing the worry etched upon his face. "Guess Bridgeport can stick to their books and boring sweaters."


    It was the closest they''d come to their old banter, and the tension eased a fraction. But even as they approached the edge of town, the weight of the unspoken accusations that lay between them lingered.


    "Listen," Ethan began, hesitating as if choosing his words carefully. "There''s the game on Friday. Mariner''s Rest vs. Bridgeport. On their turf. I''ll be heading down anyway, I could swing by and pick you up."


    A flash of understanding sparked within Maya. This was an offer, disguised as casual logistics.


    "While you''re busy with your team, and Mark . . ." her voice trailed off, leaving the rest of her thought hanging in the air. Ethan met her gaze, a flicker of something close to guilt in his eyes.


    "You could have time alone," he finished the thought for her. "To investigate."


    The warped metal of Maya''s bike groaned a mournful dirge as she pushed it alongside Ethan. Each step echoed the hollow sound of her shattered trust. Ethan wasn''t just her sidekick anymore; he was a shadow whose true motives were as blurred as the streetlights fading into the encroaching darkness.


    "Pick me up for the game on Friday, please" she said, her voice a brittle challenge. The words hung between them, heavy with unspoken promises and looming dangers.


    Ethan hesitated, his eyes flicking from her face to the distant glow of Mariner''s Rest. "Places to be, secrets to uncover?" A flicker of mockery danced in his voice, masking a deeper unease. The game was changing. This wasn''t about playing detective anymore. This was about survival. "Just be careful," he added. He sounded genuinely worried.


    "Something like that," Maya shot back, a spark of defiance igniting within her. The haunting image of Arilla, the mocking glint of the red and black pendant on the silver necklace ¡ª these were the demons fueling her.


    "Mark and Alex will be on the field with me," Ethan replied, his voice a low murmur. "You might be able to catch them before the game, but once they''re on the field, you''ll be left to your own motives. Keep your eyes out for Sarah and Emily. They''re his best friends. Emily never misses one of Alex''s games and Sarah goes wherever Highlanders go." Then he added, unenthusiastically, "Go Highlanders,"


    "I''ll handle it," she countered, forcing a lightness that betrayed the icy resolve within her. A dark thrill coursed through her veins. She''d find out the truth behind that damn necklace, and she''d expose the voice whispering threats behind Arilla''s back.


    She''d be safe there, surrounded by large crowds at the football game. What could happen?

 Chapter 11

¡°


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    Go Highlanders

 Chapter 12

    Maya let out a ferocious snarl and kicked out with both her legs, trying to fend off her attacker.


    "Stop it! Maya, it''s Officer Lofts!"


    A flashlight beam shot into her eyes, momentarily blinding her. She could make out the blurred outline of the officer, one hand outstretched, the other gripping a holstered weapon.


    "Don''t move," the officer ordered, her voice now as sharp as broken glass.


    Maya blinked back tears. Relief was a wave washing over her, draining the last of the fear from her shaking limbs. She was safe, at least for now. But even as she took a shuddering breath, a creeping realization filled her mind. This wasn''t over, not by a long shot.


    Outside, the wail of sirens pierced the night, drawing closer. Their flashing lights pierced the darkness, casting grotesque shadows on the splintered wood of the broken door.


    Officer Lofts reached down, and helped Maya to her feet.


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    Maya''s entire body was trembling, her her heart hammering in her chest.


    It''s just Officer Lofts, she repeated to herself, trying to calm herself down.


    "Come on," said Officer Lofts, urging Maya to sit. "You''re bleeding."


    Maya looked at her trembling hands, spotted with blood. Then she touched her forehead and felt a sharp sting. Fresh blood stuck to her fingertips where she''d touched her wound. Officer Lofts raised her radio to her mouth and called for paramedics.


    "Did you see them?" Maya asked, her voice shrill.


    "Maya," Officer Lofts said, calmly, "There''s no one here."


    Just then, from behind officer Lofts, came the crunch of broken glass and splintered wood from underfoot.


    Maya jumped to her feet and cried out. Officer Lofts already had her gun and flashlight out, turned, and aimed down the darkened hallway at the figure creeping toward them.


    "Mom!" Maya shouted.


    Maya''s mother wore an expression of both anger and concern. "What the hell is going on in here? Look at this place! Maya, what happened?"


    "It appears someone tried to break in," said Officer Lofts. "Paramedics should be here any moment."


    Mrs. Banford bent down and picked up a shattered picture frame. "What a mess."


    Officer Lofts shook her head and brought her gun back to her holster. "We''ll get someone to check your breakers. Don''t worry Maya, you''re safe."


    Maya wished she could believe her.

 Chapter 13

    The silence in Ethan''s car stretched, punctuated only by the rhythmic hum of the engine and the soft scrape of his knuckles against the steering wheel. He stole a glance at Maya, his gaze lingering on the way the hem of her long sleeve gray sweater dipped slightly, revealing a faint sliver of pale skin marred by a several jagged white scars.


    The entire school seemed to be murmuring of the break in at Maya''s house. Sarah and Emily had rushed up to Maya just as she was locking her bike up at the bike rack in front of Bridgeport High School.


    "Oh my god, Maya! So glad you''re OK!" Sarah said, wrapping her in a giant hug.


    "You are OK, aren''t you?" Emily said looking at the small bandage on Maya''s forehead.


    Maya nodded. "I''m fine. Just a few stitches." She admitted she did that to herself when she tried to climb out her bedroom window and fell. She tried to make a joke about it and was met with forced smiles.


    The rest of the day went as as usual, with the addition of extra stares, some gossip, and with Sarah and Emily checking up on her between each class. After reassuring them a dozen times she was OK, they invited them to join them at Mariner''s Rest Homecoming game.


    They gave her a shocked and curious look when she told them Ethan was going to take her.


    Sarah made gushing noises.


    "No, it''s not like that," Maya said. "For all I know, he could''ve been the one to break in to my house. Maybe he killed Arilla."


    Emily raised a brow. "Talk about red flags . . . "


    "Even if he did have something to do with it, he wouldn''t dare try anything before tonight''s game," Maya said.


    Sarah and Emily stood in quiet skepticism. "Maybe I''ll see you guys at the game. I gotta get home and finish cleaning up the mess before meeting Ethan. He''s supposed to pick me up soon."


    Sarah and Emily let the matter go, and with a wave, they said goodbye. Then Sarah, in her usual cheeky way, added, "Have fun, try not to get murdered!"


    Some of the other students looked at Sarah.


    Ethan had picked Maya up right on time. She''d had time to finish vacuuming up the broken glass in the hallway, but she''d need to repaint the door handle and replace the table she broke trying to climb out her window. She''d just showered off the dust and changed into a simple, but elegant white turtleneck sweater-skirt she picked up in San Diego and matched them with black leggings and knee-high black boots. Comfortable, yet sophisticated and stylish. The sweater would keep her warm too. The coastal weather brought a humid, sticky chill after sunset. But for now, she wore it with the sleeves rolled up as the sun was still high in Bridgeport, and warm mountain air smelling fresh like pine.


    She asked Ethan if she could roll her window down, and he nodded politely. When she reached for the window panel, Maya noticed Ethan glance at the scars on her wrist which she tried to keep hidden by an abundance of stylish bracelets.


    "Those . . . " he began hesitantly, then trailed off, unsure how to phrase the question that had been gnawing at him ever since they''d left the police station.


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    Maya''s breath hitched, and she instinctively pulled her sleeve down further, a defensive gesture that didn''t go unnoticed by Ethan. He sighed, frustration flickering in his eyes.


    "Look," he said, his voice softer now. "You don''t have to tell me anything you''re not comfortable with. But if you ever want to talk about it . . ."


    There was a vulnerability in his voice that surprised Maya. She fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere out the window. Part of her wanted to shut him out, to retreat back into the safe haven of her own silence. But another, quieter part, yearned for a connection, for someone to understand the turmoil that had been her life.


    With a shaky breath, she blurted, "It wasn''t a suicide attempt."


    Ethan''s eyebrows shot over to her in surprise. He pulled over to the side of the road, his truck coming to a halt on the deserted forest-lined street. The foggy marine layer settled around them making it seem like their truck was floating in the clouds. He turned to face her fully, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern.


    "It wasn''t?"


    Shame burned in Maya''s cheeks, but she pushed on. "No. It was stupid. The most pathetic thing I''ve ever done." She paused, gathering her courage. "I was shoplifting."


    Ethan stared at her, his mouth slightly agape. Disbelief flickered across his face, then slowly morphed into something akin to amusement. A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his lips.


    "Shoplifting?" he finally echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.


    "Yeah," Maya mumbled, avoiding his gaze. "Stupid, right?"


    "Not exactly what I expected," Ethan admitted, the amusement deepening in his eyes. "Care to elaborate?"


    Taking a deep breath, Maya plunged into the story. She spoke of the suffocating tension that had filled their house after her parents'' announcement, the constant arguments that seemed to drain the life out of everything. She spoke of her mother''s cold indifference, her father''s silent retreat as he buried himself in work.


    "It was like they forgot about me," Maya confessed, her voice cracking slightly. "Like I was just an inconvenience in their war zone."


    She described the impulsive shopping spree with a group of friends, the thrill of rebellion mixed with a desperate craving for something, anything, to fill the emptiness inside her. The ill-conceived plan to steal a pair of designer socks, the adrenaline rush that turned into sheer terror when the security alarm blared. The panicked escape, the stumble, the searing pain as broken glass tore into her skin when she slipped on the sidewalk outside, dewy with ocean spray. She was arrested and spent a full twenty-four hours in jail. Her mom was furious. When Maya explained why, her mom didn''t seem to get it. Her mom never seemed to get anything beyond her own world. Her dad just shrugged it off. He cared, but didn''t want to pressure her. Deep down, she felt he already knew. He was intuitive like that.


    By the time she finished, tears welled up in her eyes. There was a raw vulnerability in her voice that surprised even her. She had never spoken about this to anyone, not even her closest friends, save for the ones who were there at the time. "Friends," her mom would always say, adding finger quotes.


    "It''s why police make me nervous. I always feel like I''m in trouble now, even when I''ve not done anything. Like they''re looking for a way to keep me trapped in their system."


    Ethan listened intently, his expression unreadable. When she fell silent, he remained quiet for a long moment, as if carefully considering her words.


    "That sounds awful," he finally said, his voice gentle. "I can''t imagine what that was like for you."


    There was no judgment in his eyes, just a quiet understanding that made a lump form in Maya''s throat. She wasn''t sure if she believed him entirely, but the tentative olive branch of empathy was enough for now.


    "I don''t expect you to understand," she whispered, wiping away a stray tear.


    Ethan shook his head. "Maybe not completely. But I can try."


    They sat in silence for a few more moments, a newfound understanding settling between them. The scars on Maya''s wrist remained a tangible reminder of a dark time, but perhaps, just perhaps, they were no longer a symbol of isolation. Maybe, they were the first step towards a fragile bridge of trust. But could she trust Ethan? Could she trust anybody?

 Chapter 14

    The roar of the Friday night crowd at Mariner''s Rest High School vibrated in Maya''s chest. She stood alone in the parking lot, a solitary figure amidst the sea of cheering fans. The strong smell of deep-fried food, hot dogs, and soft pretzels suffocated the warm late-summer air. Ethan had just waved goodbye to Maya and, before he disappeared into the bowels of the team bus, he gave her a concerned look and warned her to be careful. The exchanged a look, both of them determined in their individual causes. Ethan carried his helmet in his hands and joined Alex and the other teammates by the bus. The football coach was shouting something to them, getting them psyched up and ready to conquer.


    Behind the bleachers, and behind the concession stands, four sets of double-doors painted the school colors, black and crimson red, led into narrow carpeted hallways, each joining the locker rooms. She saw some of Mariner''s Rest football players lingering on the inside of the hall on the other side of the door.


    Then, she saw him. Mark, with his tousled dark brown hair, and lines of crimson and black paint smeared beneath his eyes, slipping into the shadows near the school''s locker room. Curiosity, laced with a touch of trepidation, propelled her forward.


    "Mark?" she called out softly, her voice barely audible over the cheers.


    He turned, his face a mask of anger that morphed into surprise as he recognized her. "Maya? What are you doing here?"


    His voice was laced with an edge of hostility that sent shivers down her spine.


    "I needed to talk to you," Maya said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hand. He didn''t respond, just stared at her with a cold intensity.


    Sensing her discomfort, Maya blurted out, "It was you, wasn''t it? At Cairo''s party. You were the one arguing with Arilla."


    Mark''s jaw clenched, and his voice rose an octave. "Yeah, I was there! But only for a minute! You can''t just-"


    He stopped abruptly, as if realizing how his outburst sounded. Suddenly his voice cracked. His shoulders slumped, and his anger dissolved into a look of raw pain that took Maya aback.


    "I was in love with her, Maya," he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "And I was stupid. I just wanted to see her, talk to her. I fucking miss her like I''ve never missed anyone before."


    His words spilled out in a torrent of regret, his voice raw, pausing to take calm breaths. "I was at Cairo''s party," he admitted. He had been consumed by a desperate hope of rekindling what he and Arilla had lost and had waited for her outside, where nobody could see him, hoping to talk to her. When he found Arilla, she confirmed his worst fears.


    "She told me she was seeing someone else," Mark continued, wiping a tear from his cheek. "Said they''d been dating for two weeks."


    His voice broke, filled with a despair that resonated within Maya. Tears streamed down his cheeks.


    "Even when she was dating me, she didn''t even want a boyfriend," he said, sobbing, "That''s what she told everyone. She was the one who asked me, and then told everyone I had asked her, and then just wouldn''t leave. She made me sound crazy."


    Two weeks. Maya''s mind raced. The timeline fit perfectly with the gossip she''d heard in Bridgeport.


    "Who was she seeing?" she pressed, urgency fueling her question. "Was it Cairo?"


    Mark shook his head, his denial tinged with a bitter sadness. "I don''t know. I didn''t want to know. It was like my world collapsed."


    He buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "I loved her," he whispered, his voice raw with pain. "Still do. Even through the hell she put me and everyone else through."


    His words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the tragedy that had shattered their lives.


    For the first time, Maya saw Mark not as a potential suspect, but as a grieving boy who''d lost the love of his life. There was no malice in his tear-streaked face, only a profound sense of loss. He lowered his eyes, tears flooding down his face.


    "People in Bridgeport said you were stalking her," Maya said gently, the accusation sounding hollow in the face of his genuine heartbreak.


    Mark scoffed, a flicker of anger returning to his brown eyes. "Of course they did! A loving gesture like that easily misinterpreted by miserable people who only see the negative. If someone hurt me like that, I''d be grateful for the apology, and give them another chance. That''s what good people do. If a person says they accept your apology, but still cut you out, they don''t really accept your apology. Real forgiveness is demonstrated through action."


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    His words were laced with a self-righteousness that jarred Maya. But beneath it, she saw a glimmer of truth.


    "Why apologize so profusely, then?" she pressed, trying to navigate the emotional minefield of his grief.


    Mark let out a shaky breath. "Jealousy. She always wanted to be with everyone else, even other guys. But me? Never seemed interested. I liked going out and doing things. Getting ice cream, going to the beach, long hikes through the woods, Frisbee golf. She never wanted to do anything like that with me, no matter how often I invited her, but when one of her friends invited her to do those very same things, she''d blow off plans with me to be with them. Even sex she treated like an obligatory chore with me. The only time she ever seemed enthusiastic was when she had any number of her fuck boys over."


    Then Mark admitted something Maya didn''t expect.


    He admitted to a drinking problem, and how the alcohol fueled his accusatory outbursts. However, beneath his anger, Maya sensed a genuine love for Arilla, a love twisted by insecurity and fueled by alcohol. He looked at her directly in the eyes and swore he was never violent. He would never hurt anyone. Especially not the people he loved.


    "She gaslighted me, Maya," he said, his voice thick with a pain that resonated with her own confused memories of Arilla. "Made me question my own sanity. I know how this is going to sound, Maya, but I have never asked anyone out before. I never think I''m good enough. My parents always telling me I need to do better, even when I''m doing my best, anyone I''ve ever dated has always cheated on me or left me for another guy. I just don''t ask because I know how it always ends. Arilla invited me over. And when it was time for me to leave, she asked me to stay. And even before we discussed it, she introduced me to her friends as her boyfriend. I remember it perfectly. It was one of the happiest moments of my life, even better than wining the big game, or getting that football scholarship. I looked at her next to me and she said, ''well, you''ve been around enough.''"


    Not the most re-assuring way to ask someone out. Though Maya was trying to remain impartial and non-judgmental, that should''ve been a huge red flag for Mark, but love makes us ignore what we don''t want to see. And Mark was definitely in love, deeper than any common school crush.


    His words were a chilling echo of Arilla''s manipulations, a revelation that painted Arilla in a far more complex light than Maya had initially imagined.


    The finality of Mark''s words hung heavy in the air. "I would''ve done anything for her," he whispered, his voice cracking. "When she broke up with me, I immediately got help with my drinking. I thought it would show her how serious I was, and if she truly loved me like she said she did, then she''d appreciate my efforts and see how much she meant to me. But it wasn''t really the drinking. She was just exploiting it as an excuse to leave me, to sleep around with other guys."


    They stood in silence for a moment, two souls bound by a shared loss. Maya knew what it was like to be rejected, but she couldn''t say she had ever felt love for anyone as deeply as Mark felt for Arilla. Maya found it romantic and wondered if anyone would ever love her like that, or if she was even capable of that depth of love.


    Maya only had a few questions left and knew Mark needed to get ready for the game. So for now, Maya knew pushing Mark further wouldn''t yield any new information.


    "Who else was she seeing at the party?" she asked finally, her voice laced with a newfound empathy. She even felt her own eyes starting to dampen.


    Mark shook his head with a weary defeat. "Who wasn''t she seeing? Everyone who wanted a piece of Arilla, men or women, they got her. The ones who were smart enough knew to stay away."


    His cynicism cut deep, a stark contrast to the heartbroken boy sobbing moments ago. He glanced at the locker room, a flicker of urgency replacing the despair in his eyes. "Look, I gotta go get ready for the game." He wiped his eyes, and doing so smeared his makeup.


    Maya knew she had learned as much as she could for now. "About the necklace," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Was it yours? One of your apology gifts?"


    "Nah," he scoffed. "Arilla didn''t wear stuff like that. Earrings, maybe. Whatever this necklace is, if she was wearing it, she must''ve really cared about them. More than she had cared about me."


    With a curt nod, Maya turned away. Her investigation was taking on new layers of complexities she hadn''t anticipated. As she walked toward the football field, a final image burned in her memory ¨C Mark huddled in the corner, hidden from public eyes, his body wracked with heavy, continuous sobs.


    The cheers and pre-game music suddenly felt like a jarring mockery of the pain hidden just offstage. Was Mark a killer, a brokenhearted boy, or both? Maya couldn''t say. But beneath the fa?ade of the familiar, the shadows of Bridgeport and Mariner''s Rest were deepening, and the secrets they held threatened to consume them all.


    Seeing Mark suffering like that had brought tears to her own eyes. She sniffled and rubbed them dry remembering she had to stay focused. There was still one more person she needed to talk to in Mariner''s Rest and she had less than thirty minutes to get there.


    The sky had grown dark, the last sliver of orange dipping into the foggy horizon beyond the crashing Pacific waves. She walked away from the high school field, away from the throng of cheering friends and family of the two football teams. Away from the lights and the smell of fried foods. Away from everyone, until she was walking alone down dark streets. The sidewalks were empty.


    Everyone must be at the game. Most of the shops were still open, but a few had already closed. Feeling nervous, she glanced over her shoulder half-expecting to see a dark figure following her, but there was no one. Screams erupted from the bleachers. The game was about to begin.


    Suddenly feeling alone and vulnerable away from everyone, in an unfamiliar town, with someone out there trying to hurt her. Maybe even kill her. Maya felt her throat run dry as she quickened her pace. Worry grew in the pit of her stomach.


    Maybe exploring Mariner''s Rest alone in the dark wasn''t such a good idea, she thought.

 Chapter 15

    The cool breath of the late summer night brushed against Maya''s face as she hurried down Mariner''s Rest''s deserted Main Street, her heart hammering in her chest. The football game''s cheers had faded, replaced by an unsettling silence punctuated only by the rhythmic crash of waves against the distant shore. Her encounter with Mark had left her shaken, but a burning determination fueled her steps. She had to find the source of the crimson, black, and silver necklace.


    A beacon of light cut through the encroaching darkness ¡ª "Mermaid''s Trove," a quaint jewelry store nestled amongst boarded-up shops and flickering streetlights. The window display glittered with trinkets and charms, a stark contrast to the town''s gloomy atmosphere. Hope flickered within Maya.


    Pushing open the creaky door, she was greeted by a tinkling chime and a young woman with dark skin, gray to purple hombre hair, and a bright smile. The woman, wearing dangling seashell earrings and a shimmering beaded necklace stood barely older, and slightly shorter than Maya herself, and was arranging bracelets in a glass case, her fingers moving with practiced ease.


    "Hey, can I help you?" she asked, her smooth voice radiating a friendliness Maya desperately craved.


    "Just a question, if you don''t mind," Maya stammered, clutching the necklace tightly in her hand. It felt hot against her palm, radiating a sense of unease.


    The woman''s smile softened as she leaned closer, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Sure, anything for a customer, especially this close to closing time," she said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.


    Taking a deep breath, Maya held out the necklace. "Do you recognize this?"


    The woman''s eyes widened in recognition. "Whoa, that''s . . . that''s something else," she breathed, her voice tinged with a touch of awe. "Yeah, I definitely remember it."


    Relief washed over Maya, replaced by a frantic anticipation. "Do you know if Arilla Pond, one of the students here, bought it?" she asked, unable to mask the desperate edge in her voice.


    The woman shook her head. "Oh, you knew Arilla?" Her brief smile faded for a second, but when it returned, it seemed sad. "It wasn''t her. She was in here all the time, but she tended to stick to simple stuff, like earrings."


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    Maya''s heart sank.


    "It''s sad, what happened to her," the woman continued. "Nothing good ever comes from visiting that town, is all I''m saying. Bridgeport might be cute, but spooky, too. Bad stuff always happens there."


    Maya ignored the jab against Bridgeport. After all, she had no prior connection to that place until only a week ago. But the woman didn''t know that. For now, one question burned in her mind. "You knew Arilla?" she pressed, her voice a thin thread.


    "Not well. She was a regular, but kept to a small circle," the woman explained. "Seemed nice enough. She liked to go to bars, and go to karaoke, even though she was under age. Nobody really questioned it, or if they did, they didn''t care. Perks of living in a small town where everyone knows each other."


    "But you said she didn''t buy the necklace," Maya said, desperation creeping into her voice. "So, who did?"


    The woman behind the counter hesitated, a strange expression flitting across her face. "I remember," she said slowly. "It wasn''t anyone from around here. He was a boy, from Bridgeport, by the look of him. Said he was getting it for his girlfriend, someone who went to Mariner''s Rest."


    The world spun around Maya. A boy from Bridgeport? A gift for his girlfriend in Mariner''s Rest? The revelation hit her with the force of a rogue wave. The trail was veering in a terrifyingly familiar direction.


    With a shaky hand, Maya pushed the necklace across the glass counter. "Do you remember what he looked like?"


    Maya''s heart hammered against her ribs, each beat echoing the frantic pulse in her ears. For a chilling moment, she was sure the woman would describe Mark. But if the boy from Bridgeport had purchased the necklace for his girlfriend, the implications were even more sinister.


    The woman paused, her brow furrowing in concentration. Then, a flicker of recognition sparked in her eyes. "Tall, athletic build, that sandy blond hair a lot of those Bridgeport guys seem to have," she said, her voice picking up speed. "And the cocky walk, you know the type. Had that Mariner''s Rest football letterman jacket, big red ''Kraken'' on the back."


    A wave of nausea washed over Maya. Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.


    "And his eyes," the woman continued, her voice taking on a strange, almost fearful tone. "Bright blue, but . . . something about them wasn''t right. Like they could see right through you, but in a bad way."


    "Thank you," Maya managed to choke out, her voice thick with shock and a growing sense of betrayal. She turned and stumbled out of the shop, the tinkling of the door chimes mirroring the shattering of her illusions.


    Maya''s head spun. The necklace, the secretive visits to Mariner''s Rest ¡ª the evidence was mounting, painting a picture of a darkness she hadn''t wanted to acknowledge. Alex. It all pointed towards Alex.

 Chapter 16

    The roar of the crowd washed over Maya as she stumbled back into the bleachers, the lights of the football field blurring before her eyes. The adrenaline surge from her encounter at the jewelry store had crashed, leaving her trembling and hollow. The necklace felt like a lead weight in her pocket, each clink a grim reminder of the web of deceit woven around her.


    Suddenly, she spotted two familiar figures ¡ª Sarah and Emily, huddled together on the far side of the bleachers. A sliver of hope pierced through the numbness. Despite everything, the sight of her former friends felt like an anchor, a promise of a time before suspicion and doubt had poisoned their bond.


    Her heart pounding, she made her way towards them. It felt like she was walking into the lion''s den, a strange mix of desperation and trepidation propelling her forward.


    Sarah spotted her first. Her forced smile faltered, and a flicker of panic crossed her eyes. Emily tensed, her gaze darting everywhere but Maya.


    Maya braced herself. "We need to talk," she said, her voice surprisingly steady. "All of us."


    Sarah and Emily exchanged nervous glances. Sarah''s voice was strained as she asked, "About what, Maya?"


    "About Arilla," Maya said, her voice rising with a desperate intensity. "About the necklace."


    Emily''s eyes widened in alarm. She shot Sarah a terrified look, a silent conversation transpiring between them.


    Sarah''s carefully constructed mask of normalcy began to crack. "Maya, I already told you, I don''t know what you''re talking about," she said, "Why won''t you let this go?"


    "Let it go?" Maya retorted. "You knew her! She was involved with Alex!" Her voice trailed off, suffocated by a roar from the Mariner''s Rest crowded bleachers. Maya opened her mouth to speak again, but just then, the whistle blew.


    More cheers and groans erupted around them, but for Maya, Sarah, and Emily, the world seemed to grind to a halt.


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    Emily finally spoke, her voice trembling. "Maya, please. We can''t talk here, not now."


    The crowd began to swirl around them, a sea of indifferent faces threatening to tear them apart. A knot of fear twisted in Maya''s stomach. Emily was right. This was not the moment, not the place to reveal the truth. But the pieces of the puzzle were scattered before them, and Maya knew with chilling certainty ¨C the clock was ticking.


    "We need to talk now," Maya repeated, her voice gaining a steely edge. "It''s about Arilla, the necklace, and" she hesitated, a cold dread clawing its way up her throat. "About Alex. She was at the party to see Alex. That''s why she was carrying the necklace!"


    Sarah flinched, a flicker of fear momentarily replacing the annoyance in her eyes. Emily looked like a trapped animal, her fear palpable. "Maya, there''s nothing to say," Sarah stammered, but her voice lacked conviction.


    "There''s plenty to say!" Maya pressed, her voice rising above the din. "Someone''s been following me, trying to scare me off. I almost got hit by a car a few days ago!"


    The admission hung heavy in the air. A tremor of genuine shock crossed Sarah''s face. Emily, however, remained unconvinced.


    "Maya, are you serious? It was probably just some jerk driver," she scoffed. "People around here are terrible drivers."


    "No, it wasn''t!" Maya argued, frustrated by Emily''s dismissive tone. "And it all ties back to Alex. He bought the necklace for Arilla! Alex is dangerous!"


    Silence descended between them, broken only by the distant cheers and groans of the game. Sarah''s eyes flickered with dawning realization, but Emily''s gaze hardened in disbelief. "Alex? That''s crazy!" she exclaimed.


    "Dammit, Maya, you need to stop. Just stop." Sarah spat her words. "I never should''ve invited you to sit with us. Go home, go back to California, just go away."


    Just then, a collective gasp ripped through the crowd. A shrill whistle pierced the air, bringing the game to a sudden halt. Maya''s attention snapped towards the field.


    Amidst the flurry of movement, two figures lay motionless on the ground ¡ª a tangle of limbs and crumpled uniforms. One was clad in the Kraken''s crimson and black, the other in the faded green and gold of Bridgeport.


    A wave of nausea washed over Maya. Her heart pounded in her chest, a horrifying premonition taking root in her stomach.


    "Mark!" Sarah''s scream tore through the air, shattering the fragile tension. Her eyes widened in terror as she scrambled towards the edge of the bleachers.


    One of the figures on the field stirred. It was Alex, slowly pushing himself up, his face a mask of feigned concern. But his gaze, when it met Maya''s, sent a shiver down her spine. It held a flicker of something cold, something predatory.


    Then, Maya saw it. The way Alex had tackled Mark. A brutal hit, unnecessary force even in the heat of the game. Mark hadn''t moved.


    Hadn''t moved at all. He lay motionless in the grass as cries erupted from the crowd.

 Chapter 17

    The three of them stood in the bleachers. The crowds of both teams groaned in horrific dismay and concern. Maya''s gaze locked on the field, drawn to Mark''s figure sprawled motionless on the field.


    Panic surged through her veins, icy tendrils reaching out to constrict her heart. It was Mark, his once vibrant team jersey now a sickening red against the pristine white lines. And on top of him, like a predator claiming its prey, was Alex.


    A guttural scream tore through the air. Sarah, her face a mask of sheer terror, bolted past Maya, a single word escaping her lips ¨C "Mark!"


    Adrenaline flooded Maya''s system, momentarily pushing back the tide of fear. Alex. It had to be deliberate. The unnecessary force of the tackle, the way Mark lay motionless ¡ª it all screamed foul play.


    Ignoring the shouts and gasps around her, Maya pushed through the stunned crowd. Her eyes were locked on Alex, who was slowly disentangling himself from Mark''s limp form. His face, however, remained blank, devoid of any real concern.


    The air crackled with a sickening tension as medical personnel swarmed the field, their movements a blur.


    A fence circled the football field, and medical personnel guarded the gate. Sarah was first to reach it it, followed by Emily and Maya.


    Medical professionals pushed the football players out of the way. "Clear the area!" People were screaming.


    The crowd, initially hesitant, began to shuffle back reluctantly. Trapped in the ebb and flow of people, the three of them were ushered away.


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    Sarah''s protests were lost in the chaos as the crowd was forced away from the field. Her gaze fixed on Mark''s motionless body, Sarah thrashed and fought against the wave of security, her screams turning hoarse as they ushered her away.


    A surge of adrenaline pulsed through Maya. She needed to be there, to comfort Sarah, to witness what was happening. But Emily''s grip on her arm tightened.


    "Maya, please," Emily begged, her cheeks flushed red. "I know this looks bad, but you have to trust me. We have to get out of here."


    The look in Emily''s eyes ¡ª a desperate mix of fear, guilt, and shame ¡ª gave Maya pause. It was a flicker of vulnerability in a girl who had built herself a fortress of calculated indifference.


    Maya wavered. Should she listen to Emily, flee the scene, or fight alongside Sarah to get closer? In that split second, the decision was made for her.


    With a coordinated push, security guards herded the remaining onlookers away from the field. Maya, caught in the sweep, found herself propelled in the opposite direction of Sarah, further away from the epicenter of the crisis. The crowds in the stands slowly shuffled in a river of people, pushing and shoving Maya and Emily toward the parking lot. They were greeted with the red and blue ambulance lights flashing through the parking lot, the football field, and as far as the tennis courts.


    With a surge of frustration, Maya looked around for an escape route, but Emily clung tightly to her, her voice now ragged with pleading. "Please, Maya. Come with me. It''s safer this way. Sarah remembers where I parked. We can meet her there."


    The image of Sarah being dragged away, her cries cut short by the escalating commotion, fueled Maya''s anger. But with a pang of helplessness, she realized there was no way back. Both teams were now being moved off the field, the game abandoned in the wake of tragedy.


    Overwhelmed and confused, Maya let Emily lead her away, a trail of burning questions and lingering suspicions trailing behind them. It was a retreat, not an escape. And as the sounds of the stadium faded, replaced by the eerie silence of the deserted back paths of the school, Maya couldn''t shake the feeling that by leaving, she had betrayed Sarah.

 Chapter 18

    At the edge of the student parking lot, in the field, where the grass grew as tall as Maya, an the red and blue emergency lights bounced off the hazy mountain scape, Maya stopped, turning to face Emily, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and fear.


    "Alright," Emily said, her voice barely a whisper. "We''re far enough. Now, talk. What happened to Arilla?" Emily, her face pale and drawn, met Maya''s gaze. The bravado that had masked her emotions all night had evaporated, leaving behind a raw vulnerability Maya had never seen before.


    "Arilla was at Cairo''s party to see Alex. I overheard Mark arguing with Arilla while I got lost. I just wanted to use the restroom. Alex bought Arilla the necklace, don''t you see?"


    Emily stood in silence. Just a few yards from them, in the student parking lot, crowds began to filter between the cars. Engines started. The usual laughter and chatter that accompanied football games seemed more somber.


    "That doesn''t make sense, Maya! Do you hear yourself? Why would Alex kill someone he loved?"


    "Jealousy!" Maya retorted. "Arilla moved on from one man to the next. I know Alex dated Arilla after she broke up with Mark."


    Emily shook her head. "You''re wrong and so arrogant!" Emily''s voice was sharp and cold. She turned way from Maya toward the parking lot. "Sarah''s supposed to meet us at my car. We should go." Emily reached in her pocket and pulled out her car fob. She pressed the button to unlock her car.


    Not far from them, a pair of headlights flashed on.


    Headlights from a dark sedan. No license plate on the front.


    The same car that had tried to run her over.


    Maya stopped.


    Emily looked at her, her eyes narrowing. "What''s your problem now?" Emily said.


    "The car ¡ª ." Maya said, trembling, feeling the rush of adrenaline through her.


    Emily stared, her expression blank, then slowly shook her head. "Arilla got mixed up with shady people. Maybe it has something to do with that." But there was a forced indifference in her voice, a faint tremor in her hands.


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    The truth hit Maya like a physical blow. Every detail clicked into place. Emily, usually so painfully shy, always lingering wherever Alex went. Why put herself through that unless . . . it was an obsession, a twisted need to be close to him, no matter the cost.


    "Everyone passed out because of the drinks, Emily," Maya began, her voice stronger now. "No one would have noticed you slipping something in. You never liked going to those parties, but you followed Alex . . ."


    "Shut up," Emily hissed, rage flashing in her eyes.


    "It was you," Maya breathed, no longer a question. "You killed Arilla because you couldn''t stand the thought of someone else having Alex before you."


    The field seemed to tilt beneath Maya''s feet. Emily lunged, not with words, but with the shovel. Maya, adrenaline flooding her veins, managed to sidestep, but the sharp metal edge grazed her cheek.


    "I won''t let you ruin this!" Emily screeched, swinging the shovel again in a clumsy arc.


    Maya, fear mingling with a sudden surge of defiance, ducked and grabbed at Emily''s wrist. The two of them wrestled for control of the makeshift weapon, stumbling backward into the tall grass. Emily was smaller, sinewy rather than strong, but her eyes blazed with desperate fury.


    "Why?" Maya gasped, grappling to keep Emily''s hand away from the sharp end of the shovel. "Why kill someone over a guy?"


    "You wouldn''t understand!" Emily''s shriek was barely human. Tears streaked her face, dirt smeared against pallid skin. "It wasn''t just about having him. It was about making sure she didn''t get him! She has any guy who wants her. Every guy." Emily shook her head. Her expression remained solid. "Arilla goes through guys like she went through money. She would fuck any guy who would have her. And she got to have Alex. I loved Alex and she ruined him for me. I don''t want the town bicycle going around knowing she had him. I loved Alex, and now there''s nothing special I could ever have with him that he already hasn''t had with someone else. She had to die."


    Maya''s throat went dry. It suddenly hit her. Ethan had told her that Emily went everywhere Alex went. She was such an introvert, why else would she torture herself by going to Cairo''s parties or every crowded football game? It explains why she was so interested in Alex''s dating life. Everyone passed out at the party because they were drinking. Emily was so plain, she could blend in and never be noticed if she slipped a sedative into the beverages at Cairo''s party. And Emily didn''t drink. She just stood there in the corner by Alex all night.


    "I will never be able to love Alex knowing he had her first. Her smug expression rubbing it in my face. He wasn''t special to her. Just another flavor of the month. I couldn''t bare the thought of her treating him like a toy, when he was something sacred to me. And if I ever had the chance to be with him, I''d never be able to look him in the eyes knowing Arilla had him first ¡ª that he would always think of her." Emily sucked in a deep breath. "I don''t need to explain myself to you. It''s not going to matter anyway. You shouldn''t have gone poking around where you didn''t belong."


    Maya''s shriek was cut short when Emily grabbed the shovel and crushed it against the side of Maya''s head.

 Chapter 19

    Maya hit the dirt hard. She couldn''t scream, or cry out. Her voice croaked as swirls of dirt invaded her nostrils. Blood tricked out of her nose and in her throat. Adrenaline masked the pain in Maya''s head as she scrambled to her feet. This wasn''t a fight she could win with brute force; she needed to be smarter.


    Scanning the clearing, her gaze landed on a fallen branch lying a few feet away. With a desperate lunge, she grabbed it, the rough bark biting into her palm.


    Emily didn''t give her a chance to catch her breath. She charged again, her face contorted with rage. Maya raised the branch, blocking a clumsy swing of the shovel.


    The impact sent a jolt of pain through her arm, but she held her ground, pushing back against Emily''s desperate assault. The fight devolved into a chaotic tangle of limbs and grunts, the clearing echoing with the clang of metal and the crack of wood snapping.


    Neither of them were trained fighters, their movements fueled by fear and desperation. But Emily, driven by the need to silence Maya, fought with a reckless abandon. Maya, on the other hand, channeled her anger and determination into her defense.


    As they stumbled around the clearing, Maya spotted a large rock half-hidden under the leaves. It was her only chance.


    With a feigned move towards the left, she drew Emily''s attention, then spun sharply, kicking out with all her might. Her foot connected with the shovel, sending it flying through the air.


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    The shovel landed with a clatter a few feet away. Taking advantage of the opening, Maya lunged forward, aiming for the rock. Emily, caught off guard, crashed into it with a grunt, the impact knocking her down, leaving her gasping for air.


    For a moment, both girls lay there, gasping for breath amidst the rustling leaves. The clearing was silent, the only sound their ragged breaths and the pounding of Maya''s heart.


    Slowly, Maya pushed herself up, her body a throbbing mass of pain. Emily remained slumped against the rock, her eyes wide with a mix of defeat and fear.


    "It doesn''t have to be this way, Emily," Maya said, her voice surprisingly steady. "We can go to the police together. Tell them what happened."


    "It''s not up to you. No matter what either of us will do, it won''t change the fact that she already had him and he''ll always think of her instead."


    Tears welled up in Emily''s eyes, streaming down her cheeks. Seeing the girl she thought she knew reduced to this state of utter hopelessness ignited a flicker of sympathy within Maya.


    Emily buried her face in her hands, her body wracked with sobs. The fight had left her, replaced by a crushing weight of guilt and fear. For a tense moment, silence hung heavy in the air, broken only by Emily''s quiet weeping.


    Maya knelt beside her, reaching out to tentatively touch her shoulder. Yet, she remained cautious. Trust, once so easily given, had shattered into a thousand jagged pieces.


    "Emily, please," Maya said softly. "We can get through this together."


    Slowly, Emily lifted her head. Her eyes, red and raw, met Maya''s. Something in her gaze flickered - a fleeting glimmer of surrender, a desperate hope that maybe, just maybe, there was a path back from the darkness.


    "There''s no going back. He''ll never want me, and even if he does, he''ll always want her more instead." Emily sobbed, swung the shovel again, hard.

 Chapter 20

    Maya kicked her foot out, blocking the swing. Emily stumbled back and Maya jumped to her feet.


    The thick, tall grass and heavy evening fog cast obscure and heavy shadows. Panicked breath burned her lungs with salty coastal fog.


    Behind her, Emily''s relentless footsteps pounded against the damp earth, a chilling echo of her bloodthirsty determination. Maya''s eyes darted, desperately searching for an escape, the only illumination a sliver of moonlight breaking through the dense tall grass.


    She ran toward the football field lights. The halogen glow loomed ahead. Hope flickered ¨C and died just as quickly. Emily waited, silhouetted against the ghostly moonlight. The shovel in her hand gleamed, a wicked promise of a brutal ending.


    Chasing Maya, Emily snarled. The shovel made a metallic sound as it sliced through the tall grass.


    Maya tripped, scrambling to regain her footing as the shovel arced through the air, coming dangerously close. A desperate plea rose to her lips, only to be choked off by a surge of terror.


    Suddenly, a furious roar pierced the night. A shadowy figure exploded from the darkness, slamming into Emily with a force that sent the shovel flying. The two figures became a tangled mess, rolling in the dirt, their desperate grunts and gasps echoing through the clearing.


    Maya gaped in disbelief. It was Ethan, the revelation of Emily''s guilt etched into his tense features. He wrestled with Emily, his movements fueled by a desperate need to protect Maya.


    A final crack echoed through the clearing, followed by an unnatural silence. Emily went limp, her body sprawled lifelessly on the forest floor. A chilling stillness descended, the moonlight painting a haunting tableau of death.


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    Maya swayed, a wave of nausea threatening to overwhelm her. "Ethan . . . Is she? . . ." Her voice trembled


    Ethan rose slowly, his face stricken. "She wasn''t going to stop."


    His words offered little comfort.


    Yes, they were alive. But Emily, their friend, was gone forever.


    Ethan pulled Maya close, looking down at Emily''s body. Her vacant eyes stared up into the cloudy sky, her face caked with dirt and blood. She remained unmoving. Unblinking. She was gone.


    A shiver ran down Maya''s spine. Though they were safe, neither Ethan nor Maya could stop trembling.


    "We''ll be ok. You''re ok," Ethan kept repeating as he pulled her close. "We need to to get you to the medic."


    Ethan managed to hold on to Maya as he limped toward the football field with Maya under his protective arm. She could feel the hot sticky blood caked with dirt on her face. Her blurred vision made it difficult for her to see where she was stepping, and her throat was dry. She saw Sarah ahead, who rushed forward to help assist them to place to sit on the cold bleachers. Medical personnel came rushing toward them.


    Ethan pulled Maya close under his arm. "Is Mark going to be ok?" Maya asked Sarah.


    "He''ll live," Sarah responded. "But he won''t be playing for awhile. Hey ¡ª where''s Emily?"


    The sound of more sirens approached.


    "It was Emily," Ethan said, trembling. He kept Maya close. "I don''t know. I just don''t know."


    His words offered little comfort. Yes, they were alive. But Emily, their friend, was gone forever, and the chilling image of her vacant eyes seared into their memory.


    A shiver ran down Maya''s spine. Though they were safe, their journey was far from over. Their world had twisted, filled with dark secrets and harrowing consequences. The pursuit of justice had taken a sinister turn, leaving them bound to a terrible secret, forever burdened by a life lost.


    Love, it seemed, was a perilous game, and heartbreak its cruel reward. Perhaps true loneliness was the only safe haven. It was a bleak thought, one that settled heavy in Maya''s heart as the weight of everything she''d endured finally crashed down around her.