The Boy from the Woods(19)

Sutton looked around the wine cellar as if she’d never seen it before, though she had always been with the popular crowd. Always.

“What are you doing in here?” she asked.

Matthew shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t seem yourself tonight.”

It surprised him that Sutton would notice something like that.

He shrugged again. Man, did he know how to woo girls or what?

Then Sutton said: “She’s fine, you know.”

Just like that.

“Matthew?”

“Do you know where she is?”

“No, but…” Now it was her turn to shrug.

His phone buzzed. He sneaked a peek.

Where are you?



It was from Wilde. Matthew quickly texted back: At Crash Maynard’s.

Is Naomi there?

No.



Sutton stepped toward him. “They’re a little worried about you.”

“Who?”

“Crash and Kyle, the others.” She looked at him with those blue eyes. “Me too.”

“I’m fine.”

Now her phone buzzed. When she read it, her eyes widened. “Oh my God.”

“What?”

She looked up at him with those gorgeous eyes. “Did you…?”

He heard a commotion from down the corridor.

Matthew typed: Shit.

Wilde: What?



Crash burst into the wine cellar as Matthew hit send on: Something bad is going down.

Kyle came in right behind him. They both had their smartphones in their hands. Crash stormed toward Matthew so fast that Matthew actually put his fists up as though preparing to ward off a blow. Crash stopped, raised his hands in a surrender motion, and smiled.

The smile was oily. Matthew felt something roil in the pit of his stomach.

“Whoa, whoa,” Crash said in a voice that aimed for comforting but slithered down Matthew’s back like a snake. “Let’s slow down here.”

Crash Maynard was surface handsome—wavy dark hair, brooding boy-band expression, thin frame adorned in the latest fashion. When you took a closer look at him, you could see that Crash was nothing special, not in any way really, but as Hester once joked about a rich girl she wanted Matthew to date, “She’s beautiful when she’s standing on her money.”

Crash always wore a big silver smile-skull ring. It looked ridiculous on his thin, smooth finger.

With that oily smile still on his face, Crash lifted his phone and turned it toward Matthew. “Do you want to explain this?”

He pushed down on the screen using the finger with the smile-skull ring. The ring seemed to wink at Matthew. A video sprang to life, starting off with the familiar network news logo. Then his grandmother came on the screen.

“But first, breaking news just coming in…”



A photo of Naomi appeared on the screen.

“Tonight, a local girl from Westville, New Jersey, is missing and needs your help. Naomi Pine has been missing for at least a week now. There have been no reported sightings or ransom demands, but friends are concerned that the teen may be in danger.…”



Oh no.…

Matthew felt his stomach tumble. He hadn’t thought about that, that Nana might go live on the air with the story. Or was that what he’d secretly been hoping? He wasn’t surprised by how fast the news—according to the timer on the app, less than two minutes—had disseminated amongst his friends. That was how it worked now. Someone maybe had a news alert on Naomi Pine or maybe a parent had seen the story and right away texted their kid and said, “Doesn’t this girl go to your school?!?!” or maybe someone followed CNN on Twitter. Whatever, that was how it was now, how quickly word got out.

Crash’s smile didn’t flicker. “That’s your grandmother, right?”

“Yeah, but…”

Crash beckoned for more with his smile-skull-ring hand. “But?”

Matthew said nothing.

Crash’s tone was mocking. “Did you say something to Grandma?”

“What?” Matthew tried to look offended by the suggestion. “No, of course not.”

Still smiling—a smile that now eerily echoed the one on his ring—Crash stepped forward and put his hands on Matthew’s shoulders. Then, without the slightest warning, he drove his knee upward, straight into Matthew’s groin. Crash pulled down on Matthew’s shoulders for extra leverage.

The blow lifted Matthew onto his toes.

The pain was immediate, white hot, all-consuming. Tears filled Matthew’s eyes. Every part of his body shut down. His knees caved, and he collapsed to the floor. The pain rose from his stomach, paralyzing his lungs. Matthew pulled his knees to his chest and curled himself into a fetal ball on the floor.

Crash bent down so his mouth was right near Matthew’s ear. “Do you think I’m stupid?”

Matthew’s cheek was pressed against the floorboard. He still couldn’t breathe. It felt as if some part of him was irretrievably broken, as if he would never be right again.

“You drove here with Luke and Mason. They told me you were standing with your grandmother when they picked you up.”

Breathe, Matthew told himself. Try to breathe.

“What did you tell her, Matthew?”