One of Us Is Next(18)
I mean, he gets plenty of credit in this house. But okay.
“It’s so great that you’re doing that for him,” Kiersten says, and the genuine warmth in her tone makes me feel like a prick. I don’t have anything against Nate, but I can’t shake the feeling that he’s the son my father wishes he had. I grab my sweatshirt from the chair where I dropped it earlier, pulling it on as Kiersten adds, “Want to come to lunch, Dad? We’re getting wings.” She only grimaces a little on the last word.
“No thanks. I need to get back to work and finish up our proposal for the mall parking garage. It’s been sitting empty for much too long and frankly, it’s both an eyesore and a hazard.” He frowns and turns back to me. “One of my guys said he heard a rumor that kids have been cutting through the site. You seen anything like that, Knox?”
“What? No. Definitely not!” I practically yell it, way too loudly and emphatically. God, my father makes me nervous. His frown deepens, and Kiersten tugs on my arm.
“All right, we’re off. See you later!” We’re through the front door and halfway down the driveway before she speaks again. “Work on your poker face, Knox,” she mutters, pulling a set of keys out of her bag and aiming them at her silver Civic. “And stop taking shortcuts through abandoned construction sites.”
It’s a sunny but cool Saturday. I pull the hood of my sweatshirt up as I slide into the passenger seat. “It was just a couple times.”
“Still,” Kiersten says, climbing in beside me. “It’s my duty as your significantly older sibling to remind you how Not Safe that is. Consider yourself warned.” She turns the motor, and we both wince as music blasts through the car at top volume. I always forget how loudly Kiersten plays her radio when she drives alone. “Sorry,” she says, turning it down. She glances into the rearview mirror and starts to back out of our driveway. “So, I barely got to talk to you during that creepy bounty hunter game. It’s still bullshit that you killed me, by the way. Not over it. But what’s new with you? How’s the job, how’s the play, how’s school?”
“It’s all good. Well, pretty good.”
She taps the blinker and prepares to turn out of our road. “Why only pretty good?”
I’m not sure where to start. But I don’t have to, because Kiersten’s phone rings. “Hang on,” she says, her foot still on the brake as she roots through her bag. “It’s Katie,” she says, handing me the phone. “Put her on speaker, would you?” I do, and Kiersten calls, “Hey, Katie. I’m in the car with Knox. What’s up?”
My second-oldest sister’s voice, tinny from the speaker, starts ranting about something that’s pink but was supposed to be peach. Or maybe it’s the other way around. “Katie, stop,” Kiersten says, inching onto the main road that will take us to Bayview Center. “I can’t even understand you. Is this about…flowers? Okay, Bridezilla, let’s take it down a few notches.”
I tune them out, unlocking my own phone with a prickle of anticipation. Like everybody else at Bayview High this weekend, I’ve been waiting for a text from Unknown. But there’s been nothing. I’m guessing whoever their target was decided to take the Dare, and now I don’t know what to expect. It’s new territory. Simon never bothered with that kind of gamesmanship.
Is it wrong that I’m kind of…I don’t know, interested? I shouldn’t be, after what happened to Phoebe. Not to mention last year’s months-long shit show. But there’s a video game quality to all this that has me weirdly hooked. Like, I could just block texts from Unknown and be done with it, but I don’t. Hardly anyone at Bayview High has, as far as I can tell. What did Lucy Chen call us at lunch the other day? A high-risk population. Conditioned to respond to the right kind of prompt like overstimulated lab rats.
Or lemmings. That was Simon’s preferred term.
A text from Maeve pops up while I’m scrolling. Hey, a bunch of us are getting together Friday when Bronwyn’s in town. You in?
Maybe, I reply. Is it spring break?
No, she’s just here for the weekend. Ashton’s bachelorette party. Also, we’re seeing Into the Woods. She adds the grimacing emoji, and I send three of them back. I’m already sick of that play, and we’re still weeks away from performing it. My singing range is microscopic, but I ended up with a lead role anyway because I’m one of the only guys in drama club. Now my throat hurts constantly from all the straining, plus rehearsals are messing with my Until Proven work schedule.
It’s weird, and kind of uncomfortable, to realize you might’ve started outgrowing a thing that used to almost be your whole life. Especially if you’re not sure what else to do with yourself. It’s not like I’m tearing it up at school, or work. My biggest contribution at Until Proven so far is seconding Sandeep’s suggestions for the conference room names. But I like it there. I’d intern more hours if I had the time.
We’re in downtown Bayview before Katie finally hangs up. Kiersten shoots me an apologetic glance as she pulls into a parking lot across the street from Wing Zone. “Sorry we got interrupted by a quote, floral emergency, unquote. Which is not a thing. Who’ve you been texting while I was ignoring you?”
“Maeve,” I say. The battery on my phone is almost dead, so I shut it off and put it back into my pocket.