Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(28)

SORRY FOR LAUGHING ABOUT ACES.

I reply:

It’s giving me anxiety. I don’t know how you can find all of this funny.

I watch out of the corner of my eye as Jamie reads the note.

SORRY—AGAIN.

He seems sorry enough. I take the note between my fingers, and I hold my index finger out.

“Shake my hand and you will be forgiven.”

He smiles and shakes my finger like it’s a hand.

“… Sometimes it’s a matter of mixing things that don’t react well together. One popular example is alcohol and sleeping pills, which can trigger symptoms such as extreme drowsiness, memory loss, and in some unfortunate cases, death.”

I look up when Mr. Peterson says that.

“Besides,” Jamie continues, in a whisper, “I think Aces targeting other people is a sign. They know what your wrath looks like.”

My mind is still spinning as Mr. Peterson’s words echo inside. “You’re right,” I say, trying to shake off the sudden strange feeling I got. This sense of déjà vu.

But as soon as I say that, I hear the wicked green laugh of the universe, and, like a switch being flicked, a reprise of phones goes off.

I reach into my pocket, my heart hammering away against my shirt, and my stomach convulsing even more. I scan my phone. One notification from Unknown. I hear the hubbub of chatter around me as everyone starts to dissect the text.

[One picture attached]

We have a gangster among us, folks! Devon Richards, look at you. Hanging about on the wrong side of the tracks. What can be expected, when he makes frequent visits like these to very influential, and not to mention good-looking, drug dealers. Be careful, Vonnie, Juilliard isn’t too keen on criminal records. I hope he’s worth it.—Aces

There’s a photo of Devon standing by some building.

I read the text over, drumming my nails on the table. Who’d be that interested in Devon? This almost reads like an angry or jealous ex …

I tap my screen, selecting a contact I haven’t spoken to in months.

Hey, Scotty, it’s Chiamaka

I watch my screen, only looking up to check that Peterson’s focus is away from me. We are allowed to use our phones in school—just not during class. Apparently, they cause distractions. I bet the teachers never imagined anything like this, though, when they made that rule. How can anyone concentrate when there’s a snake on the loose?

I drag my finger down the screen, tapping the table impatiently.

“Who are you texting?” Jamie whispers, startling me.

I whack him lightly. “None of your business. Focus on your work,” I say, before tilting the phone a little to block Jamie’s prying eyes from seeing.

The three dots appear, indicating that Scotty’s typing, and I sit up.

Long time no speak.

Just texting to ask a question, and I want a direct answer. I try to sound intimidating. I probably should have spoken to him at lunch, since my intimidation works better in person. But I wasn’t in the right headspace.

Ask away.

I look up, catching the teacher’s eyes, so I pick up my pencil and pretend to write with one hand while tapping a reply under the table with the other.

Are you Aces?

There is a short pause before the three dots appear again.

You’re the second person to ask me that this week. I thought we were friends.

I wouldn’t call us friends … In fact, the last time we spoke—sometime after our fake breakup at the beginning of junior year—he’d laughed at my shoes, in the hallway, and I’d threatened to cut off his stupid ponytail. But I thought we were on good enough terms too. He’s friends with Jamie’s friends, so we’ve always kind of been in the same circles anyway.

I thought we were too, yet you’re the only connection I can think of who’d have any dirt on both me and Devon.

…

As I told the other person, why would I implicate myself?

There’s something inside me that knows it isn’t Scotty. That for all the shitty things he’s done, he doesn’t stand to gain anything from this.

My phone buzzes again.

Scared that Aces will talk about that night?

Frozen, I stare down at the message, trying to figure out what he means by that night. Does Scotty somehow know about the girl we hit?

What night? I send.

Waiting for his reply feels like an eternity, but eventually I feel my phone vibrate.

Jamie’s party at the beginning of junior year. You were wasted, remember? Kept telling people their outfits sucked. It was funny, actually.

I only remember snippets of Jamie’s party. I remember the kiss … But the rest is a blur. I don’t even remember drinking that much, but I’m a lot more careful now if I do drink around people. I want to be able to recall everything, keep their secrets in my bank rather than the other way around.

Why’d I be scared about that? The worst Aces could do is show everyone a video of me dancing badly on top of some table. I’ve been through worse attempts at people trying to embarrass me.

Is that all you remember? Scotty writes back almost immediately.

I pause, trying to figure out what he means by that.

Yes, why?

I hardly remember that night and wanted to piece things together too in case Aces has anything on me. I do stupid things when I’m drunk. All I remember is talking to you, kissing some guy, and throwing up in the rosebushes outside.