Code(47)

Something snapped inside me.

“How dare you mention my mother?” Quiet. Cold. “What, do you think you can replace her? That it’s an open position, like a McDonald’s fry cook?”

Whitney’s eyes widened. “Sweetheart, no! I only meant—”

“Meant what?” Anger made my voice shrill. “That you’d jump right in and fix me? Be my new best friend? Take care of me when I’m sick, or scared?”


Whitney stared, speechless. Part of me knew I was being unfair, even cruel, but I’d never been more furious. I couldn’t stop the words.

“You’re not my mother, and you never will be.” I shot to my feet. “Next time try thinking before you speak.”

“Tory!” Kit barked. “Watch your tone! Whitney wasn’t implying she’d take anyone’s place. You know that.”

“Oh, spare me.” My eyes burned. “At least you finally had the balls to say something. I figured I’d just keep finding Whitney’s things in our house until one day, poof, she’d never leave!”

Kit flushed scarlet. Whitney burst into tears.

Escape. Now.

“I have to go.” I stormed back down the beach.

“Tory, wait!” Whitney struggled to rise and follow me.

“Let her go.” Kit looped a restraining arm around her waist. “It’ll be okay.”

I broke into a trot. Over the dunes, across the common, and up my front steps. My hands shook as I twisted the doorknob.

Coop trailed me up to my bedroom.

The door shut, then waterworks.

Head buried in my pillows, I let myself sob.

I’d never felt more alone.





CHAPTER 25





I’m not sure how long I lay there before my phone buzzed.

At first I ignored it. Then, remembering the meeting I’d scheduled but failed to attend, I snagged the thing, expecting an irritated Viral on the line.

Wrong. Jason Taylor. My finger pressed answer before I could stop it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s Jason. How are you?”

“Good.” Wiping snot streaks from my face. “You?”

“Great. Listen, my parents drove to Hilton Head for the weekend, so I’m having a party. You have to come.”

“Party?” Not what I’d expected. “When?”

“Tonight, princess.” Jason’s voice turned plaintive. “Don’t say no. You always say no. It’ll be fun, I promise. No drama.”

My reflex was to decline. I hated cotillion enough. A Bolton Prep party? No thanks.

Then I thought of Kit and Whitney. The conversations I’d endure later that night.

Fine. Anywhere but home.

“One condition,” I said.

“Name it.” Eager.

“My friends are invited too. Hi, Shelton. And Ben.”

Silence hummed across the line. Then, “Tory, be reasonable. The doofus twins can come, but Blue—”

“Those are my demands, sir. We’ve already made plans, so I won’t just ditch them. Plus, Ben’s boat is my only ride. It’s all or nothing.”

“Fine. Whatever. Just keep a lid on that guy, or I swear I’ll toss him in the harbor. See you around eight?”

“See you then.”




“It’s that one, there.” I pointed to a sturdy wooden walkway jutting into the Harbor. “Taylor is painted on the side.”

“How very nice for his majesty.”

“Ben, I swear to God, if you’re going—”

“Relax.” Ben eased Sewee toward the dock. He wore his usual black tee and jeans. “I’ll be a good little boy. I promised, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you did.” But I was not reassured.

As we tied off and walked to the Taylors’ backyard, I tried to still the butterflies. I wore a white tank and jeans, shooting for “sexy-casual.” Hoping it wasn’t “left farmhouse, got lost.”

What are we even doing here?

We should be at the bunker, trying to ID the statue. Kiawah had proven the Gamemaster wasn’t bluffing. And our time was almost gone. We should be using every second to crack his puzzle.

Except, I didn’t want to. Not after the horror show on the beach. Right then, I needed an escape. From Kit. From the terrifying prospect of Whitney installing herself in my home.

Frankly, this party was a godsend. The perfect distraction.

Jason lived in the ritzy Mount Pleasant neighborhood of Old Village. His house was three stories of molded stucco accented by gleaming white trim. The yard had a pool, hot tub, cabana, and a massive brick patio complete with a fireplace. Not too shabby.

A dozen classmates were scattered around the pool, drinking from red Solo cups. Others had clustered by the cabana, where Jason was flipping burgers and gripping a Bud Light.

Alcohol. Yikes.

I’m such a loser. It hadn’t occurred to me that, this being an un-chaperoned affair, people would be boozing.

Don’t be a wuss. You’re a sophomore now, you can handle it.

“Those dudes are drinking,” Shelton whispered. “Beer.”

“No big deal,” Ben said. “I got drunk a few times with my cousins this summer.”