Ace of Spades Sneak Peek(66)

[one picture attached]

I see London, I see France, I see someone’s underpants, past the swing, in the purple tunnel, our favorite music student likes to snuggle.—Aces

Devon making out with some guy on a jungle gym.

My phone buzzes again.

There’s more where all of this came from, Chiamaka. And I’m not afraid to share.—Aces

What does Aces want from us? What is the end goal? It feels like everything is out of control; I am out of control. I can’t shake the feeling that they’re three steps ahead, and everything we’re doing is playing right into their hands. Sunday feels so far away, but I don’t know what else to do.

I go to my phone and watch as my fingers hover over the 9 and 1. But I can’t call the police. However bad it gets. I can’t call them, because Aces knows about the hit-and-run. Or at least, I can’t call them before we catch who is behind this. So I open my contact list and scroll down. I hesitate for a heartbeat before hitting the call button.





25


DEVON

Friday


“Do you think she actually killed someone?” Terrell asks.

I shrug. Chiamaka does scare most people, but an actual murderer? I don’t know. She has been in denial about a lot of Aces stuff we both know is true; plus there was the stuff on the USB.

But I also know Aces is trying to twist everything against us, so who even knows if it’s true, or the entire truth. And after the masked figure in the hallway, those posters of Chiamaka and of me, and being followed, I’m scared about what they might be plotting next. It feels like the tone has changed this week. It was nasty before, but now it feels dangerous.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to tag along on Sunday? I’m really good at fighting people; I’ve watched a lot of spy movies too,” Terrell says.

“We’ll be okay. I’ll send you updates so you’ll know we’re alive,” I say.

A ringtone startles me, and I grab my phone out of my pocket.

Speaking of the devil …

“Hello?” I say.

“Devon?” I hear Chiamaka’s voice ring out.

She sounds off.

“Is everything okay?” I ask.

There’s a pause. I hear her sniff. “Someone, Aces, followed me home, practically chased me—”

“What? Did you see who it was?” I interrupt.

“No … they were masked, plus I was running for my life. Thanks for asking if I’m okay,” she says.

“Sorry.” Terrell looks at me with a puzzled expression, and I move off the bed. “Are you okay? Did they hurt you?” I ask.

“I’m fine,” she says, but her voice wavers. “They pushed some pictures of me through my mail slot … They’ve been taking pictures of me, of us. They sent me a picture of you on some jungle gym … It looked private.”

My mind flashes back to the park. Terrell. The kiss.

“Devon?”

“Sorry, I got lost there.”

“That’s fine. It’s just … Sunday has to work out, okay?”

“Okay,” I say, nodding.

She sounds really shaken up.

“Good. I’m going to go now. Stay safe and try not to do anything incriminating between now and Sunday,” she says.

I’m confused. “What do you mean?”

She sighs. “Try to keep your dick in your pants; that’s what I mean.”

Oh.

“Oh … you too, I guess,” I say.

“I will,” she says.

“Okay.”

And then the line goes dead.

“Who was it?” Terrell asks. I almost forgot he was here—somehow.

I don’t want to tell him everything, make him worried. This is dangerous enough.

“Chiamaka. She just wanted to go over the plan again,” I lie, climbing onto the bed and sitting next to him, avoiding looking him in the eye.

“Did you tell her about your headmaster possibly being behind this?” he asks.

I shake my head. “Not yet. It’s just a theory. One I don’t think she’ll believe. She’s so far up his ass. She’s more concerned with getting her titles back. But if it is him, we’ll know soon enough.”

I anxiously watch Terrell’s window, worried that someone is lurking outside. Watching, collecting secrets, plotting.

A cartoon plays in the background, the one Terrell somehow roped me into watching. I swear Terrell has the same taste as my kid brothers.

My eyes drift, landing on certificates and plastic medals hanging on Terrell’s walls. I never looked at them closely until now. They all say Star pupil or Highest-achieved grade point average, with different years marked on each.

Terrell is smart, so it isn’t surprising. He doesn’t seem to go to school much, though. I don’t feel like going back either; I feel like running from Aces.

I wonder why Terrell doesn’t go. I wonder what he’s running from.

I feel myself getting sleepy. I’ve been at Terrell’s for hours. I close my eyes for a moment, drifting off slowly.

I hear him say, “Promise me you won’t die on Sunday.”

And I can’t tell if I dream that or if he really says it, but I answer anyway.

“I promise.”