The Rebel of Raleigh High (Raleigh Rebels #1)(95)

I react, throwing up the gun I’m holding, even though it’s empty. “Steady. Steady, Leon. Just take a breath, man. We do not have to fucking do this.”





33





SILVER





“He’s not coming back. He’s the only one who knows we’re in here, and he’s not coming back. We’re all going to fucking die.”

Sophia hasn't stopped freaking out. Neither have I, but she's too loud in her panic, and she won't shut the hell up. The sound booth is small—nothing more than a cubicle, really. The three of us are all trying to pace at once, frantically trying to get our cell phones to work, but none of our devices can get a signal. The entire network seems to be down.

“He will come back,” I say tightly. “Alex won’t just leave us here. He’ll come back for us when it’s safe.”

“He’s probably already dead. You heard all those shots just now.”

“Sophia, I swear to god, if you say one more thing about anyone dying, I’m going to kill you myself,” I snap.

Alicia gasps, hugging Sophia into her side, giving me a baleful look. “Threats aren’t constructive here. Neither is talking about Silver’s psycho boyfriend dying. We all just need to stay quiet. We need to stay calm.”

“I know. I’ve been saying that for the last ten minutes. Can you…fuck, both of you. Can you please just sit down? The three of us bouncing around in here is making me crazy.”

“You’re moving about just as much as us,” Sophia moans around her tears. “it’s not like—”

DUM DUM DUM!

The loud thuds fill the sound booth, and all three of us shriek, grabbing each other’s hands. From outside comes a demand that sends panic skating up my spine: “Let me in!”

“Are you the police?” Alicia yells.

“No, I’m not the fucking police! I’m standing out here in the wide open. Let me in, for fuck’s sake!”

I recognize the voice. It’s been haunting me for the past nine months, forcing me to relive the most traumatic thing that’s ever happened to me every time I’ve heard it in the hallways of Raleigh.

“That’s Jacob,” Sophia says, sniffling. “Jake, is that you?”

“Yes!”

“Prove it,” Alicia demands.

“God, do you want me to slide my fucking driver’s license underneath the door? Open up.”

Alicia and Sophia almost climb over each other in their haste to unlock the door. I step in front of them, the tiny room spinning like a merry go round, blocking their path.

“What are you doing?” Alicia hisses. “Let him in. We’ll be safe if he’s in here with us.”

I stand firm. “How do you know that? What if he’s the shooter?”

The girls pause, uncertainty all over their faces. “Well…why would he sound so panicky if he was the one with the gun?” Sophie reasons.

God, this girl would be the first to fucking die in a horror movie. “To trick us into opening the door obviously!”

“Who’s in there?” Jake shouts through the door.

“It’s me, Allie. Sophia and Silver, too,” Alicia answers back.

“Why did you tell him that?” Sophia growls, slapping her friend’s arm like she’s a naughty little child.

Alicia rubs at her arm, feigning hurt. “What’s the harm in him knowing if he can’t get in?”

A thick, heavy silence has fallen in the music room beyond the sound booth. Jacob’s obviously realized how little chance he has of being admitted into the booth now that he knows I’m inside.

I allow myself a sick, twisted moment of satisfaction.

“Silver? Can you hear me?” he says softly. “Silver, please. If you don’t let me in and I die, what do you think’s gonna happen to your family? My father’ll know you shut me out. He’ll ruin them. You know it’s true. Be better if you let me in so I can wait this out with you.”

It’s a ridiculous thing to say. He’s grasping, trying to concoct something that’ll scare me into giving into him, but it’s not going to work. “Really? You really think threatening me is an appropriate tactic?”

Another loud thud crashes against the door, this time bordering on violent. “Let me in, Silver, or so help me I’ll—”

“You’ll what, Jake? Hurt me? Humiliate me? Bully me? Destroy my entire fucking life? You already did that, remember?”

“Silver, please…”

Below us, in the library, a jarring, thunderous round of shots sound out, shaking the floor beneath our feet.

“See. Jake can’t be the one with the gun if they’re shooting down there,” Sophia says. “What the fuck is your problem. Let him in.”

“Please, Silver.” On the other side of the door, Jake sounds like he’s about to break down and start sobbing.

For all that he’s done, I should not open the door.

The initial assault was reason enough to leave him out there to be shot, but add the months and months of psychological abuse I’ve suffered at his hands within the very walls of this school? Jacob Weaving deserves whatever brutal death awaits him.