“It’s hard to say.” There are only a few of them on the actual footage, but you can tell they’re talking to a bunch of girls outside. And then something shiny catches the light from the parking lot. I hit pause and zoom in on a shorter girl in black shorts and black T-shirt. Her face is covered with a hunting mask, but beneath the mask a small necklace hangs down.

I gasp.

“What is it, Millie?” my dad asks.

I look up at him. Dread swells in my chest. “I know that necklace. I know who that is.”

Sheriff Bell coughs into his fist. “Let’s get you on the record.”

My mouth feels like a desert. I don’t want to get anyone into trouble. But someone—a lot of someones—really wrecked this place. And this isn’t just some gym. It’s Vernon and Inga’s dream and livelihood all wrapped up into one.

Over the next hour or two, I answer endless questions. It’s dizzying. I listen as officers go back and forth with Vernon and Inga about pressing charges and how it would be best to go after the one person that they can identify instead of the whole group.

“Well, if Millie is correct,” says Sheriff Bell, “I’d say the girls in the video are all on the school dance team.” He clears his throat. “Especially after the, uh, financial difficulties you detailed, Vernon.”

It appears that not only did Inga and Vernon skimp on their security system fees this month, but they also had to drop their sponsorship of the Shamrocks, making for a convincing motive.

When the police finally leave, I sit down behind the counter to make sure that nothing was taken from the front desk. I feel like I’ve been awake for days. All the adrenaline that’s kept me going for the past few hours is starting to dwindle.

My phone buzzes from inside my backpack, and I find eighteen missed calls and forty-two text messages from Amanda. I can see she’s allowed her imagination to escalate quickly as the texts move from calm to panic within thirty minutes’ time.

AMANDA: Did you oversleep?

AMANDA: Am I getting ditched right now?

AMANDA: Should I get my mom to take me to school?

AMANDA: OMG ARE YOU DEAD YOU NEVER MISS SCHOOL WHERE ARE YOU

“Darn! I totally forgot it was a school day. I was supposed to pick up Amanda. And there goes my perfect attendance record! Great. Just great.” I groan. “And I missed getting to school in time to do morning announcements. Mrs. Bradley probably thinks I’m a total flake.”

Unfortunately, my flakiness probably won’t be the worst news Mrs. Bradley gets today.

Callie

Six

I woke up today with what can only be described as a hangover. I was late to practice—as was most of the team. So that was a wash.

My stomach is all knots and my heart stammers against my chest. I’m good at doing bad things. I’ve gotten away with my share of unspeakable acts. But that’s because I’m careful. I’m a planner. Last night? Last night did not go as planned, and this town is way too small for what happened to stay secret for long.

Honestly, I feel like my life is a Lifetime movie and I just got away with murder, but justice is lurking at every corner. (Okay, I might have a thing for Lifetime movies. Thanks to my mama.) But seriously. Nothing turned out the way it was supposed to last night. It was only going to be some toilet paper on the gym sign out front and maybe a few eggs on the windows. Until Jill threw a freaking rock through the window. Jill’s that person who takes every joke too far, so I would like to say I’m surprised, but I’m not.

I’d also like to say that when I saw those windows shatter, my first instinct was to put a stop to everything or, at the very least, to run like Melissa, but adrenaline masked as rage took over. Call it mob mentality or whatever you want, but we trashed the place. I even took the rock used by Jill and went to town on the mirror stretching across one of the walls. It was sort of pretty the way it shattered slowly at first, like a crack in an icy lake, and then came crashing down all at once. We destroyed the equipment, the bathrooms, and even the boxing ring. I think the only thing left untouched was the cash register.

So, yeah, last night got way out of hand. No one wants to get in trouble, obviously, but some of those bitches would gladly rat out the rest of us if it meant saving their own asses. I trust Sam, but seeing as Melissa was nowhere to be found last night after shit got real, I’m just waiting for her to rat me out. If she really wants to secure her title as captain next year, this is probably her best shot of getting me out of the way.

I spend my office-aide hour staring into the bottomless abyss that is the attendance filing cabinet as I think through several different scenarios and how they might play out.

The phone shrieks, sending me nearly two feet in the air.

“Sweetie, can you get that?” my mom calls from the other side of the office.

I nod and pick up the phone. “Clover City High front office.”

“Uh, yes, this is Todd Michalchuk. I need to speak with someone about my daughter, Millie, being out sick today.”

“One moment please.” I press the hold button. “Mom, it’s a parent with an excused absence.”

“Oh, I better take that,” she says, pushing her red-glitter reading glasses, which perfectly match her nails and lips, into her curls.

I hand off the phone and find something to alphabetize.

“Oh, I knew something must have been really wrong when she didn’t show up for announcements this morning,” says Mama. “Well, I’m so sorry to hear that, but I hope they find whoever did it so they can pay the consequences.”

Oh God. That doesn’t sound good. Sweat gathers at the nape of my neck. But there’s no way Millie has anything to do with that gym. I doubt that girl’s ever even seen workout equipment outside of a late-night infomercial.

Slowly, I reexamine every detail from last night. We wore all black and a mix of ski masks and molded Halloween masks. I twisted my hair into a sloppy bun and donned a Richard Nixon mask Jill had in her truck, among the piles of masks she’d stolen from her brothers. None of us were even slightly recognizable.

I’ve gutted my phone for any text messages that might incriminate me, and I should tell everyone else to do the same. But isn’t covering up evidence somehow even worse? And don’t they have technology to recover deleted stuff from phones?

I shake my head. It doesn’t matter. A chilling sense of resignation settles down my spine. What happened last night is done. I can’t change that. I can only protect my team and whatever shot we have left at State and Nationals.

“Well, that’s just awful,” says my mom as she hangs up the phone. “You know that little gym, Down for the Count? The new one behind the Chili Bowl?”

I nod but keep my eyes focused on my work. If anyone will notice something’s up with me, it’s my mom. “I think so.” The words feel like nails on a chalkboard.

“Well, that was Todd Michalchuk, and he says his brother-in-law owns the place and his daughter, Millie . . . you know Millie. That . . . bigger girl who was in the pageant last year with you. She’s such a gem. Does the announcements for me every morning. I was worried about her this morning.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Well, she was opening the gym up for her uncle and found the whole place ransacked. They’re not sure if people were looking for money or what, but the place is trashed.” She sighs. “Things like that just don’t happen here.”

I’d hoped that somehow this whole thing would exist in a bubble and never work its way back to me, but suddenly it’s here. It’s simply a matter of time before this is the only thing the entire town is talking about.

Because Mama is right. Our local police department keeps busy with things like drunk drivers and domestic disputes. As trite as it sounds, this is the type of place where you can leave your doors unlocked. In Clover City, an incident like this is front-page news.

I am front-page news.

She sits down at her computer and opens up her attendance software to mark Millie as having an excused absence. “I tell you,” she says, “little places like this can only hide from big-city crime for so long. It’s like watching a way of life become extinct like the damn dinosaurs.” After a moment, she adds, “I hope they find whoever is responsible and lock ’em up for a good long while.”