My body becomes cold in one swift movement. It's like someone has dialed the air conditioning to its maximum setting, dropped water on my head, and expects me to sit right in front of it until I die of hypothermia. Okay, I might be a bit dramatic when I say that, but the ice that shoots in my veins has me frozen in place. Every horrific thought and nightmare that has plagued me over the past month comes rushing back and a voice in the back of my head snickers like all of this is some big joke.

Shut up you stupid voice. I think. Or I'll poke you with a Q-tip.

That's it. I'm finally going insane.

"Ember?"

"Yeah?" I ask, dazed.

Principal Miller and Hayden's father must see my apprehension because Matthew's hand moves to rest on my shoulder in a reassuring gesture that makes me wince. He sighs, unsurprised, and removes his hand.

"You know this man," Mathew states. "And you that Hayden is involved with his schemes."

I nod, numbness inching up my abdomen and into my chest.

"We've met." And he stalked me, had his cronies attack me, and left me in a burning house. "You could say we're pretty buddy-buddy."

Mathew's unsettling mercury eyes watch me stare into the photograph of Derek he holds in front of me. The photograph is a grainy, black and white projection of what must be a security camera somewhere in a city. But despite the fade in the colors and the images surrounding him, Derek is in full view, smirking directly into the camera—at me—as if he knew they were watching him.

"What can you tell us about your encounter?" Mathew begins and pressure builds in my chest. I don't even know where to start. Everything fights its way up my throat, the words begging to be let out first.

But as I begin to answer, the door bursts open with a startling slam, making the pictures on the walls shake. Our heads whip around to see Hayden, his cheek swelling a purplish blue color, being shoved into the office by two officers. His eyes briefly connect with mine before he's staring down his father with a malicious hatred I'd only seen when he looked at Derek.

"What are you doing here?" he demands.

Mathew climbs to his feet, the set of his jaw matching his son almost exactly. There isn't hatred in his eyes, but deepening rage. Another thing they have in common.

"I should be asking you the same thing, Hayden." Mathew narrows his eyes. "What happened?"

"Like you care!" Hayden snarls back. He looks two seconds away from lunging at the man.

Principal Miller jumps to his feet. "I think we'll finish our conversation some other time, Ember. You can go now."

I don't have to be told again.

And just as I pass Hayden, he grabs my forearm with a bleeding hand and pulls me closer to him. My breath halts and my body coils. He doesn't speak, only glances from me to the photograph of Derek on the chair across from us.

What did you say? His expression asks.

I purse my lips and shake my head ever so slightly. Nothing.

His grip loosens. I hastily pull away.

* * *

"I want to remind you guys that registration for New York City is reaching its deadline," Mrs. Spellman informs the Senior Class at our monthly senior meeting assembly. Standing on the auditorium stage, she pulls her glasses further down her nose and rifles through a large stack of papers in her hands. "We'll be leaving for New York on the twentieth. We need payment and hotel arrangements completed by the fourteenth of this month."

"Can you believe it?" Gabby whispers excitedly to me, bouncing up and down in her seat like a kid being told they could go to Toys R Us and buy anything they wanted. "We're going to New York City!"

Her giddiness is contagious. Eager whispers ripple through the auditorium.

"I know." I smile warily, still exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster of my conversation with Principal Miller and Hayden's dad. Every time I close my eyes, I see that picture of Derek grinning like a predator ready to pounce on its prey. I see the disgusting man that's sharing a bed with my mother holding a knife to my throat. I remember the text message I got right after my meeting with Mathew and Miller from a blocked number that told me if I go to the police, my mom is done for. How did he know that?

"It'll be six hundred dollars per person," Mrs. Spellman emphasizes, snapping me out of my thoughts. "Which can be paid by check made to the high school."

And this is the cost after our extensive fundraising. For my brother and I, it would be twelve hundred dollars. I might have been a little worried since most of our money these past few months could barely sustain food, the bills, and my mom's habits. By some miraculous turn of events, we had enough for Corry. And now, after I get my paycheck this Thursday, I'll have just enough money to pay for my seat. I've been saving up for months just in case this happened.

The thought of my brother makes my throat tighten. Corry gets to miss half the school day to work with the police department as a part of his internship with the Academy before he enrolls. Frankly, I don't want him out of my sight, but there's no way I could do that without him getting suspicious.

No matter where he goes or what he's doing, he's on the front lines of all this crap and I'm the one who put him there.

"You'll be okay, right? With the cost?" Gabby wonders anxiously. "Because if you need a some money to pay by the deadline—"

I loop my arm through hers and pull her into a side hug. "Yeah. I do. But I appreciate the offer, Gabby." She squeezes my arm and rests her head on top of mine. Paris leans over and rests her head on my shoulder.

"I don't want to go to New York without my best friend," Gabby sniffles.

"We're not going to New York without you," Paris clarifies in all seriousness. "Even if it means hiding you in a suitcase." She fails to stifle her laugh. "You are small enough."

Humming in the delightful warmth of two of my oldest friends, I murmur, "If this weren't so damn comfortable, I'd smack you, Paris."

Paris laughs. "I love you too, Ember."

"And for those of you who might be confused as to why you are not eligible to go," Mrs. Spellman finishes with grave seriousness when a couple of delinquent students call out how this trip is absolute bullshit. Our English teacher and advisor looks ready to pounce off the stage and strangle them. I don't blame her. Hayden is one of those people. Him and Chase are sitting on opposite sides of the room, a security guard hovering close by each boy. "Please feel free to meet with me before or after school and we can discuss why."

"I'll be going to New York," I promise them. "If it's the last thing I do."

And soon after the details of prom are announced, our advisors call and end the meeting and let us out, free to go home if our last period of the day is a free one. I doubt every single person storming out of the doors and into the parking lot has a study hall as their last class, but it doesn't seem that administration cares too much. We've got fifteen minutes left of the school day.

"What about you?" Paris wonders as we shuffle towards the door. "Are you going to tell us about the date with Nate or am I going to have to find everything out from Deontae?"

My eyes widen. "What?"

"Yes, Ember." Paris raises her eyebrows. "Nate told the boys about your date."

Before I have a chance to react, a sharp pain blossoms in my upper arm and with a yelp, I whirl around to face Gabby. "What was that all about?"

She punches me again.

"This is for not telling me you have a freakin date with Nate Lincoln!" the oldest Hansen child wails. When I throw my hand over her mouth to quiet her, she tries to bite me. We glare at each other, willing the other to stop, neither of us ready to back down, when Paris whacks us both upside the head.

I abruptly let go. "Paris!"

She crosses her arms over her chest. "Details, I need them."

Gabby matches her stance and we continue into the cafeteria. "What happened? When did he ask you? What did you say? What are you going to ask him? What—"

I throw my hands up in surrender. These questions are giving me a head rush. "He asked me the other day. I said yes. We're going to La Rosa's on Friday around seven. And before you say anything else—yes, he's picking me up."

"I need to talk to you."

And there, ladies and gentlemen, goes any semblance of a good mood for today.

"Get in line, Cross."

Gabby and Paris glare sharp daggers at the source of the voice behind my tensed shoulders. A surge in the crowd pushes his abdomen into my shoulder and I hold back a scream when he grabs my shoulder and whirls me around to face him.

Blue plays at the corners of Hayden's left eye. "I mean it, Chance." Spots of deep purple and black wind into the wound Hayden's best friend gave him, splaying out across his cheekbones as though a bolt of lightning shattered the crescent moon beneath his eye.

Paris grabs my wrist. "Do you need a repeat of the last time you messed with us, Hayden?"

Hayden's eyes flicker to Paris. "I'm not afraid of you."

Digging her nails into my wrist, Paris yanks me towards her. "Well you should be! I'll put that fear in you right now!" Hayden doesn't let go. Paris charges him. I grab her arm before she does anything she might regret and the hurt and surprise that registers on my friend's face makes my throat tighten. Her eyes flicker from me to Hayden and when I shake my head, she drops her fist. She's not going to lose her chance to go to New York over him. I won't let her.

"This is about detention," Hayden tells me through gritted teeth. "It can't wait unless you want problems worse than detention."

Gabby comes up beside me and pokes a finger into his chest. "If you think—Ember, what are you doing?"

"You know how Miller can get with detention stuff," I tell her when I begin to unwind myself from Paris' grasp and step toward Hayden. He drops his hand. I bite the inside of my cheek out of frustration. Trust me, this is the last thing I want to do right now. "If we get suspended, I can't go to New York. It won't take too long. Right Hayden?"

Lips twisted in a scowl, he mimics my displeasure. "Sure thing, Emmy."

"I'll meet you guys at my place around three?" I offer. "Tell Corry I'll get a ride home."

Gabby's distrustful eyes soften and she juts out her bottom lip in a silent protest. I'm not happy about this, her expression says. And if he does anything, he'll be sorry.

"Fine," Paris sighs.

Grabbing Hayden's arm, I tug him towards the gym. "Let's go."

Hayden Cross lets me drag him down the halls of Valleyfield High School for all to see. For a second, a small, petty part of me that is still wrapped up in getting back at him for the stupid shit that's happened in our short lives basks in the glory. Oh, people are definitely going to be talking about this. Hayden Cross looks like he's given up.

"Can we call a truce for two minutes?" he sighs, sounding as exhausted as I feel.

"Oh, so now you want a truce?" I snort. Hayden tugs his arm free and I drop it without much resistance, watching him pull a cigarette carton out of his back pocket and light it up without a care in the world. It's not like we're in school or anything. His eyes meet mine and he exhales smoke from his nose, a smirk playing on his lips. I match his slow exhale.

"I know I might seem like this super cool dude who can handle anything the world throws at him," Hayden tells me matter-of-factly. "But even I have my limits."

I roll my eyes. "Glad to know." He offers me a cigarette. "No thanks. I don't want to die."

"Everyone dies," he reasons.

"Lamest argument in the book," I say. "Have you seen someone with lung cancer, Hayden? Death isn't glamorous like the movies. You're in pain. You can't eat or breathe—you need a bag to go to the bathroom." Sadness breaks my rib cage in half and I take a deep breath as my heart races to catch up with the memories that flood my aching mind. "The chemo fries you and turns you into a frail little ghost of what you used to be. There's no poetic justice or glamour in the needles jutting out of your gray skin. You look small and pathetic under those lights. So if you want that, fine."

Hayden comes to an abrupt halt. "You think I don't know that?" His voice is a low, dangerous growl. "You think I haven't seen the medication strip the light out of a person's eyes? Or see the way it can destroy a family?" he takes a deliberate step towards me. I stand my ground. "I've seen it, Ember." Another step. "I've felt the pain that comes from it." Another. "So don't you dare," he leans down so that we're face to face. The cigarette smoke slithers from his mouth into my throat. Hayden runs his tongue over his bottom lip. "Tell me what happens."

"What was her name?" I whisper. For a moment, he goes out of focus. Hayden blinks, unmoving.

"What are you talking about?"

"Who was it? That died?"

He pulls away quickly. "No one." I want to say more. But the look on his face—the distress, the fear, the anger, stops me. Hayden shakes his head. "We need to talk about what my dad and Miller wanted with you today."

Hayden pushes the doors of the main gym open and bolts across the parking lot, beckoning me to follow. I can barely keep my pace with him—'cause you know how much I love running—and when we reach his car, I collapse against the side of the slick black frame, gasping for air.

"What's so important that we need to be out here?" I gasp. He unlocks the door and motions for me to get inside. When I don't move, he rolls his eyes and leans against the driver-side door, groaning.

"I'm not going to kidnap you, Ember."

"How do I know that?"

"Because if I wanted to I would have done it already. I wouldn't be going through all of this trouble."

"Oh? You're going through trouble for little ol' me?" I press my hands to my heart and mimic my mother's southern drawl. "How sweet of you!" Tilting my head to one side, I click my tongue. "Oh, Hayden. If you roll your eyes like that, they're going to get stuck."

"Can you just get in the car, please?"

Pulling the door open, I throw my curls over my shoulder. Hayden watches my every movement intently. In the distance, the bell signaling the end of the school day rings happily. "Only because you said please." Dropping into my seat, I turn and face him. "Spill it, Cross."

Hayden turns around and checks the back seat of the car, looking into the trees behind us, and does a quick sweep of the parking lot. "Okay we're clear." He runs a hand through his hair. "What did the cops want?"

Nose scrunching, I ask, "The cops?"

"My dad." Hayden clarifies.

"Your dad is a cop?" I sputter a laugh. Oh, the irony!

"Are you done?"

"No!" I gasp between guffaws of deep laughter. Tears blur my vision. "Ah, thanks for making my week less crappy, Hayden."

He flicks the end of his cigarette at my head. "We don't have the whole day, Emmy."

"Okay, okay." I take a deep breath and hold into threads of composure. "Hayden, he asked me about Derek. Matt had this giant folder of pictures—old, new, so many pictures of Derek. He wanted to know what I knew about Derek and your involvement with him." Anxiousness rises with my voice. "What the hell is up with him, Hayden?"

Hayden lets out a long sigh and clasps another cigarette between his teeth, flicking the lighter on and off with his thumb and forefinger. "He's bad news."

"I figured that much."

"So I guess you figured he's the one involved in all the weird activity flaring up around here?"

"I wouldn't call myself a rocket scientist, but I know how to put two and two together."

"Well, you're looking at a moron who decided to get involved in that shit."

Silence fills the car. There's one thing to deduce the fact that Hayden has gotten himself wrapped up with the wrong crowd and there's another to hear him say it.

Hayden rakes his fingers through his hair again and again. "I looked into the guy your mom's been hooking up with—"

"Gross—"

"He's not affiliated with anyone specifically," Hayden continues, ignoring my retching. "The text message you forwarded me comes up to a number from Illinois."

"But the number was blocked—"

"It wasn't blocked. Your phone was tampered with, Ember."

"What? How could he—"

"I told you, Ember—"

"But it was blocked Hayden! Unless you—" My breath halts in my throat. The only way Jason could have known I spoke with authorities was if he had a spy on the inside. A spy like the son of one of the investigators. Bile shoots to the top of my throat. Every inch of my body vibrates from a blistering injection of hot adrenaline in my veins. I throw myself against the passenger door, grabbing for the handle, rushing to get away from Hayden as fast as I can.

"Ember! Wait!" Hayden throws himself over the center console and grabs my arm. Reeling, I push him away. "Wait! You don't understand—ow!"

I hit him again. "They know where I live! They know who my mother and brother are! How else could they have known that I talked to Miller right after I left his office, Hayden! It was you! You told them! You sick, psycho—"

"Enough!" Hayden grabs my arms and yanks me forward, pulling me into him and pinning my arms between our flushed chests. My body screams in pain at the way he has me dragged across the center console and gear shift, half in his lap, half kneeling in the space between the seats. He struggles to regain his breathing while I struggle to keep myself from crying. "I swear to God, Ember, I didn't tell him anything."

"How can I believe you?" I breathe. "When you've made it your mission to make my life miserable?"

"I've got a target on my back too, Ember." He exhales a ragged breath. "You know that."

"I have no idea about anything."

"Stop pretending to be so clueless, Emmy." Hayden growls. "Wake up. You're a part of this now."

"I know, Cross." Clouds make my mind hazy. "I get it. I'm a part of this. I get it. Now tell me something about these guys? Who am I involved with? Why is your dad here?"

"Derek and his crew are a part of an up-and-coming crew that's been trying to turn the place upside down for years," Hayden tells me. "They're starting in Wisconsin. Madison was hit the hardest. They had spies in Westwood—they had almost everyone there."

"So they... what? Steal cars? Sell designer drugs to stupid college kids?"

"Yeah."

"Great. What do they want with Valleyfield? With you? With me?"

"Drugs have always gone through the veins of the inner cities and the poor neighborhoods. What if someone came up with a way to get it through places the Feds would never look through? Like the suburbs?"

It made sense. They'd be too busy putting their time and energy in the crooked world of the ghetto to think twice about a middle class town in the middle of Small Town, USA.

"They tempt you with a lot," Hayden continues bitterly. "They made sure my time in Westwood was fun. And... they promised to help me when I got out. My mom can barely afford the mortgage. How am I supposed to pay for college?"

I'm speechless.

Exhaling, Hayden continues. "All I had to do was help them move the product. I needed to get buyers. Make connections. Find people to make safe houses while they spread across the state."

My stomach twists. "So what happened?"

Hayden shakes his head as if he's still trying to make sense of it all. "I don't really know. They have more spies in and around Valleyfield, Ember. Some of them have already climbed the ranks. Derek is the head of this sector and someone's been messing with his product. He thinks there's someone in here that wants to take over."

"And they're framing you?"

"No, Ember. They're framing you."

For the millionth time today, my jaw hits the floor. "Me?" The inside of the car becomes too hot, too cramped for me to sit still. "Why?"

Hayden avoids my gaze when he speaks. "Derek wanted to recruit your brother, Ember. They sent me in to do it."

Eyes burning, my fingers dig into Hayden's forearm as tension radiates from him in heavy waves. It feels like someone's turned the world upside down and shook it a few times. My head won't stop spinning. "Why? Corry's done nothing wrong—"

"He's going to be valedictorian of our class. He's great at sports. Volunteers. Everyone knows him and loves him. Why would they ever be suspicious of him?" Every word is a punch in my gut. "But he's also an impressionable kid who is basically following the cops around twenty-four-seven. His single, drunk mom doesn't have a lot of money. One of their own is enemies with his sister. How easy would it be to sway him to their side, Ember? If not by money but hope? If not by that, then by force? To protect you?"

It takes every ounce of control to stop the sob that pushes against the top of my throat. Hayden slowly uncurls my fingers from his skin, revealing dark red crescents on his pale forearm, and I close my eyes. Warm fingers briefly brush hot tears from my cheeks.

"And by framing me, what happens?"

"That flash drive you got had some pretty top secret stuff on it, Ember. Stuff that I was responsible for and now it's missing. Derek thinks I told you about their plan and now you're trying to sabotage him to protect Corry."

"But I'm not," I press, hoping the more I say it, the more Derek will believe it—wherever he is. Oh, God. My head needs to stop spinning.

"I know you're not." Hayden says. "But whoever is setting us up wants Derek to believe that so he's more preoccupied with us. That way they can get the ball rolling and pull the rug right from under Derek's feet when they're ready."

Letting go, I fall back into my seat and bury my face in my hands. "Fantastic. Fucking fantastic." When I look up, Hayden is staring intently at his lighter again. "Hayden?" his eyes flicker to mine. "What are we supposed to do about this?"

"We need to find the snake."

"How are we supposed to do that?"

The corners of his mouth quirk in a smile. "Leave it to me."

"No way. I'm not about to leave it to you when you practically threw an atomic bomb on my head. But I do have a question."

"What?" He sounds hesitant.

"What made you change your mind about joining Derek's crew?" I wonder, the curiosity gnawing at my stomach. A cacophony of pings and chimes bursts to life from my jacket pocket. Hayden and I exchange identical looks of worry and dread. Is it possible Derek or the Snake heard everything and now they're going to come after us? Slowly pulling my phone out of my pocket, I brace against the door, ready to leap just in case anyone tampered with it to shoot bullets or explode.

"What does it say?" Hayden asks, breathless. "Who is it from?"

The little phone slips in my sweaty palm. And when I hit the home screen button, a little envelope flashes on the screen and the world screeches to a halt. I open the message. The world begins to move again.

"Oh thank God," I sigh. "It's nothing."

"What is it?" Hayden presses.

"It's from Nate." I smile.

Hayden raises an eyebrow. "What does he want?"

"He wants to know when to pick me up on Friday."

"Why?" A deep line forms across the top of his brow.

"Because, Cross, we're going on a date."

* * *