GREY

A dark figure stood in the doorway, her usual height softened by the plush sheepskins muffling her feet and the silken gown draped across her shoulders. "What do you want?" The words were a blade striking the air.

"We...just came to see Jacquarious," I managed. "Heard he got discharged—"

"Leave."

"Mrs. Afryka..." Dash tried, but a single glare froze him where he stood.

"I don't think you understood me. I said leave. And if you make me repeat myself again, then you'll be hearing from my lawyers as well."

"What?" Cody barked, fists clenching at his side. "Lady, what is your problem?"

"Cody." Dash gripped his shoulder, but Cody shook his hand.

"We're here to help!" Cody yelled. "It's not like we're the ones who tried to murder Jacquarious—we were trying to save him!"

"Save him!?" Mrs. Afryka screeched. "I let the four of you into my house. Told my son he was being rude for ignoring you. And all the while, you were just faking it. Just pretending to care about him so you could...destroy him!"

What? Destroy him?

"Mrs. Afryka," Dash spoke again. "I think there's been a misunderstanding. We...we didn't do anything to Jacquarious. We were helping Officer Longchamp look for him—"

"A likely story." Her left hand rose to her hip. "The cop I found waiting outside the paper...Ramos. Yes, that was it." Her eyes narrowed, fingers scrunching into air quotes. "He told me how nervous you were, how 'hard' you tried. But even he didn't have an answer for the simplest of questions: If you really were worried about my son, then why did it never occur to you to call me?"

I gulped. "Honestly...we didn't think of it. Everything was happening so fast—"

"Of course it was," she growled. "I suppose hazings really aren't known for their slow and methodical atmosphere."

"Hazing!? We weren't—"

"Save it! I know the things you boys get up to when you're all alone, when you think no one's watching." A stifled chuckle escaped her chest. "It's almost unbelievable. I really thought things would be different, that maybe Jacquarious could finally make some new friends." She shook her head. "Whatever prank you pulled, whatever you did to make my son run off to some newspaper in the middle of the night, rest assured I will be getting to the bottom of it."

"We didn't!" I pleaded. "Mrs. Afryka, we didn't do anything!"

Her jaw tightened as she glared back at us. "Then it seems you and that officer have a lot in common."

The wooden door slammed shut, crashing into place with a metallic roar.

I shrank back, hunching my shoulders as my eyes plummeted to the grass. Cody's arm wrapped around my shoulder again; Dash's did the same.

"...That was brutal," Brayden whispered.

"Compared to what those cops are getting, that was her being civil." I whimpered as the guys' arms tightened around my back. "I can't believe she thinks we were...hazing Jac."

"That's the least of our worries," Dash grumbled, pulling out his phone as two more texts blipped through—both from his parents.

"What'd yours say?" I winced.

Dash shook his head. "I can't look. Not right now."

Brayden shoved his hands in his jacket. "Guess we should get going, huh?"

"Some expedition this was," I sighed.

The four of us turned, trudging a circle on the paved porchway to face Dash's car...just as the squealing moan of the Whelan home's side gate pealed behind us.

Huh?

"Guys," came a soft whisper. "Guys, wait!"

I swung my head back. "TaKylar?"

She slipped between the ends of the metal gate and scampered across the lawn to meet us.

"What're you doing here?" I asked.

"Mrs. Afryka invited me over right after they got back from the hospital." She stroked at her braids. "Jacquarious still isn't feeling so great. He's barely even moved since yesterday."

"Well, I can see why she trusts you," Brayden offered. "You...really care about him."

TaKylar sighed. "So do you. So do all of you." She glanced up at me. "I couldn't help but overhear his mom yelling at you guys. For what it's worth, I know you weren't hazing him...and she probably knows it too. Deep down."

I took a step closer. "What do you mean?"

"She gets like this sometimes. Jacquarious is her only kid, and...well, everything that happened last semester just made everything worse."

I shook my head. "Everyone keeps saying that, but I still don't get it. What was this...this horrible thing that happened? Is it the poem—the one DeWayne wrote?"

TaKylar gasped, the concern on her face leaping to worry. "How do you know about that?"

"Jac mentioned it," I said. "Right before he ran off to the paper last night."

Her head dipped to the side, fingers tracing her braids again. "I guess he really did trust you guys then. At least a little." She bit her bottom lip, nervous gaze trailing to the side. "Look, I...have to go down to the police station. Gavin said he still needs to take my statement."

"What about us?" I piped up. "I mean, shouldn't we all...you know...cooperate?"

The rest of the guys shifted on the pavement behind me.

"Not now," she sighed. "Not yet. Not while Mrs. Afryka's lawyers are still perched like buzzards. Gavin said the last thing they need's proof that even more teenagers were involved. But..."

I quirked an eyebrow. "What is it?"

"You guys deserve to know what happened...I'll tell you everything. But not here."

Dash slid forward. "My place then. You can come over when you're done at the station."

"I thought you guys were grounded..."

"Well, yeah, but my parents work late," Dash said, giving a low chuckle. "I've got at least another six hours before they toss me in a cell and take away my phone privileges."

She giggled in reply, a soft rebuttal to the terror steadily latching its talons onto us. "Alright then. It's a date."

****

Dash was pacing the fireplace.

The smell of warm soup sprinkled with rosemary filtered in from the kitchen, where Brayden stood stirring at the stove.

"Smells good, dude," I called from the living-room couch.

Cody sighed. "So this is it then. We just sit here, waiting for the other shoe to drop?"

"TaKylar said she'd text when she was done at the station," I said.

"Yeah, if our parents don't kill us first," Brayden mumbled, turning up the heat under the chromed pot.

Blip!

I scrambled for my phone, snatching it from the coffee table. "Guys, it's her! She said she's on her way—"

The doorbell clanged over my voice.

Cody cocked his head. "That was fast."

Brayden shut off the fire on the stovetop and strode to the door, Cody and Dash following.

I fumbled with my phone, gripping it tightly.

Dash paused mid-step as he approached the home's entrance, clenching his fists. "That's not TaKylar."

The doorbell clanged again.

Dash grabbed the door and flung it open. "What do you want?" he barked, his angry words flying at the man standing in the night.

"I just want to talk. That's all."

I felt my face twist with confusion. "Who are you?"

Dash stuffed both hands in his pockets. "August West. A little worse for the wear, but I'd recognize that flaming hair anywhere. Youngest copyeditor ever hired at US & The World." His nostrils flared. "And the reason Jacquarious almost got put inside a coffin."

The man stepped forward, running a hand through his upbrushed ginger quiff. "I don't think we've been acquainted."

I gasped. Dash's right—that's him! I'd barely gotten a good look at his groveling figure the night before; but here he was, peering at all of us through wary eyes.

"Makes sense," Dash growled. "You were pretty fried last night when you crawled out of that tunnel."

August flinched, a clump of padding around his shoulder sliding an inch before he pressed it back into place. "I...didn't know you were there."

"We all were," Dash snapped. "And so was our friend—the one you lured out to the paper before you almost got him killed."

"That wasn't my fault!" August winced as he screamed, nerves tensing at the side of his temple, where more bandages covered his scabbed flesh. "I didn't mean for all this to happen." He sighed, the edges of his eyes wrinkling with worry. "I just wanted the truth."

"And you didn't care who you had to kill to make it happen."

"I didn't...I wouldn't!" August slumped against the wall. "It was all just for show. I threatened to out him as Whiteface, but...I was trying to get him to come clean. That kid is hiding something."

"Maybe he is," I finally said. "But that doesn't give us the right to force it out of him. Not when...not when none of us know what it's like to be inside his skin." I flicked my head away. "Especially not me."

August snorted, hunched shoulders scraping the wall. "So that's it? You're just as much of a pussy as he is, just another spoiled rich kid who can't see past his own—"

"Get out."

We all jumped, the voice echoing from behind August's head.

He pushed off the wall and twisted around, stepping to the side as TaKylar pushed past him.

"Don't tell me that stupid haircut comes with earplugs," she spat at him. "Get out before I call the cops."

He let out a low growl, then shuffled through the door, right before TaKylar slammed and locked it.

Her eyelids fell as she faced us. "Sorry I'm late." She took a deep breath, hesitating with the flow of the air. "Is that...minestrone?"

Brayden half-smirked. "Yeah. New recipe." He motioned to the kitchen. "Want some? It's almost done."

TaKylar flicked her braids over her shoulder. "Guess I should say yes. Something tells me this is gonna be a long night."