Being exhausted at school while still fending off creepy glances from guys who thought she’d been pole-dancing at a party on Saturday night? Being exhausted at school while knowing that she was racing toward some terrible fate—and that her supposed friend Crow might be greasing the wheels? These were new lows.

The day dragged. She ignored a million calls and texts from Crow, who said they needed to talk. Probably to explain his behavior last night—and presumably, why he’d shown up at the exact moment her house was on fire. She spent English and chem wondering what was going on at home, whether she’d be able to sleep in her own bed that night. And now she had a new nervous tic: pulling strands from her ponytail around to the front of her face to make sure that they hadn’t turned red in the last five minutes. By the time the school day was over, Em was feeling manic with fatigue.

“I’m heading home,” she said, pulling Gabby aside after the final bell. “I want to see if there’s anything I can do to help my parents. Thanks for everything this morning.”

Students flowed around them, chatting and laughing, but Em was so tired that she barely heard them. They were just a low drone in the background. She couldn’t believe that once, not so long ago, this had been her whole life: what had happened over the weekend; who’d hooked up, who’d broken up.

Gabby reached up for a hug. She’d met Em in the gym locker room that morning with a fresh set of clothes—leggings and a denim tunic—plus coffee and a carrot muffin. “Of course, sweetie,” she said, giving Em a squeeze. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do. And how about this weekend we go out for Thai? My treat.”

Em felt a pang somewhere deep inside her. I don’t think I’ll be here this weekend, she thought. She ran a hand nervously through her hair and contemplated spilling it all to Gabby. ?This could be her last chance to tell the truth to her best friend. . . .

“That would be awesome” was all she said. She felt like her heart was snapping in half.

Before they parted ways, Em was compelled to reach out for Gabby’s hand. There was an underwater-type whooshing in her ears. Everything else seemed to melt away except for the two of them, leaned up against the cold brick wall of the Ascension High hallway. A locker slammed somewhere down the hall. “Listen, Gabs, before you go . . . I just wanted to say—thanks. Thank you so much.”

“It’s no problem,” Gabby said, tilting her head. “It’s the least I can do—your house was on fire last night.”

“I’m not just talking about the clothes and stuff,” Em pressed. “I’m talking about everything. With . . . with Zach and all that. I was a terrible friend. And you were there for me anyway.” She felt her throat closing up. “You have to know how sorry I am. How sorry I’ve been.”

The words hung between them and Em thought she felt her heart stop beating for a few seconds. Gabby picked at a bit of pearly pink nail polish. When she looked up, her eyes were bluer than ever.

“I know you’ve been torturing yourself,” Gabby said, tucking a blond tendril behind her ear. “But you’ve got to believe me. I’m over it.” She managed a smile. “Look, I dodged a bullet, right? He was a total zero. And we both learned from it.”

“You deserve better,” Em said. For the first time, she realized it was possible that she judged herself more harshly even than Gabby did.

“It’s over,” Gabby said, wrapping her arms around Em’s neck for another quick hug. “Really. And we have each other. That’s what counts. Best friends for life, right?”

“For life,” Em echoed, attempting a smile. But she knew that this—Gabby, the halls of Ascension, the gossip, and the blur of people—might never be her life again.

Bing-bing. Her phone beeped in her pocket and Em straightened up. The text was from Crow, again. His message was terse: Meet me at the Dungeon.

Okay, she wrote back. She couldn’t avoid him forever. See you soon.

* * *

Was meeting him crazy? There was a chance that he’d gone completely off the deep end, that his reasons for being at her house last night were, in fact, less innocent than he’d have her believe. These were the thoughts that gripped her as she drove to the coffee shop.

“Hold up,” Crow said, intercepting Em on the sidewalk in front of the Dungeon. “Come back here.” He jerked his head toward the alleyway behind the coffee shop where smokers usually congregated.

“Why?” she asked.

Crow looked haggard—like he hadn’t slept in days. He definitely hadn’t shaved this week. And there was a new, red scrape on his jaw. “Privacy,” he said shortly.

She followed him warily into the alley, which was dim despite it being broad daylight. The ground was littered with cigarette butts, and a few upside-down milk crates were set up as makeshift seats. “Well? You gonna tell me what happened last night? What did you see?”

“It was the worst one yet—like it was really happening,” Crow said. He fumbled for a cigarette. Em had never even seen him smoke. “You were lost in a swirl of smoke. You couldn’t get out. You were burning to death.”

“So you saw the fire before it happened?” And did you get drunk before or after you had the vision? she silently added.

He slumped against the Dungeon’s brick wall and crossed his arms. “Not quite,” he said. “It wasn’t your house. You were outside. And it was . . . It was JD who put you there.”

“JD?” she repeated. Putting her in danger? He would never. She nudged a milk crate with the toe of her sneaker. “What are you talking about? He’s not involved in this.” But she felt a flicker of doubt. JD knew things—she didn’t know how, but he did.

She’d told him last night to stay out of it. She prayed he would listen.

Crow’s eyes narrowed. “That’s what you think,” he said. “He’s been going around behind your back trying to save the day. I tried to warn him off, but he practically punched me.”

“What?” Em looked up, her cheeks blazing. “When did you even see him?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed. “Look, Em, I’m just trying to warn you. He’s going to do something. . . . I wouldn’t make this up. He’s . . . It’s a trap. You have to be careful.”

Em’s chest constricted. She put her hand against her neck to stop herself from getting too warm. “He wouldn’t do that, Crow. Leave JD out of this,” she said.

When he turned to her, his eyes were cold. Dull. “I get it. You don’t want your boyfriend to get hurt.” He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “But not me, huh? You don’t care about what happens to me.”

There was a bad taste in her mouth. Was this a war of jealousy, or was there truth to what Crow was saying?

“First of all, he’s not my boyfriend,” Em said. “Second, I warned JD to leave it alone—I told him that they were dangerous. That I was taking care of it.” And I do care if you get hurt, she thought, but couldn’t say it.

Crow moved away from the wall and took several steps closer, backing her against the bricks on the opposite side of the alley. He reached down and grabbed both her wrists, pinning them up next to her shoulders. It was rough and urgent. It was scary. There was a look in his eyes that came from somewhere else, somewhere bad. She thought she’d be able to overpower him—she was stronger than she’d ever been, despite feeling so weak all the time. But she couldn’t. Where was he getting his strength from? The thought terrified her even more.

“But it’s not just you, is it Em? It’s us. I’m supposed to help you. We’re in this together, aren’t we?” He leaned into her. She felt the bricks grinding into her back.

“You didn’t confront JD to help me,” she said, ripping her arms from his grasp. “Not that it matters. Not that any of it matters. You can’t help me and neither can he. I can’t even help myself. It’s over—it’s too late.”

Crow looked at her with raised eyebrows. “You’re giving up? Are you kidding me?”

“I don’t have any other choice.” She took a deep breath. “Look. Just calm down. I don’t get it. JD would never hurt me. Ever. So your vision? Whatever it was, it was wrong.”

He stared at her for a long second, his eyes black and full of a need she couldn’t identify. Then he released

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