17. Logan

17LOGAN

The room is dead silent. Dead, like McKayleigh out on the rocks, blood like a halo. As soon as Kira and Corinne came inside, before they even told us, I knew, maybe just from the looks on their faces, and I ran. I shouldn’t have. Now I’ll never be able to forget what she looked like. Eyes open, but not just blank and dead.

She looked afraid.

“This is our fault.” A strangled sob comes out of Graham’s throat. “We shouldn’t have let her go off alone when she was so upset. We should have checked on her.”

“It’s not our fault.” Zane puts a big hand on Graham’s shoulder, like a caring friend, but I know what it really means. Shut up. I know because I’ve felt it. Those hands gripping my arms, hard. We’re going to fix this.

Reaching into my hoodie pocket, I brush the papers inside, still creased from the envelope that someone—our “generous Sponsor”—left in my backpack.

Want to make a real scene?

I start to shiver.

“Not to be that guy,” Aaron says, “but we have two dead bodies, and no one’s come to get us. So I’m starting to think—”

“No.” Kira shakes her head sharply. “No. We’re not going back to that.”

“Okay, then what happened?” Aaron asks. “She just slipped off the rocks like Cole slipped off the balcony? Some slippery island we have here.”

“Stop it, man,” Zane says. “That’s not helping.”

“Well, neither is crying about it.”

“Our friend just died,” Graham hisses, moving toward Aaron. “What the fuck is your—”

Zane tugs him back. “It’s okay.”

Graham glares at Aaron, like he might rush forward, but then he slumps into an empty chair, pulling out his vape and taking a long inhale. The mist curls out with his breath in slow motion, like the thought creeping into my head.

When I ask, it comes out at almost a whisper.

“What if this is what they meant by ‘canceled’?”

Somehow, the room gets even quieter, like all the air’s been sucked out.

“Wait, like they want us to die?” Elody lets out a humorless laugh. “Oh my god, if IRL was a cover for an actual murder plot, I’m going to kill my manager.”

“That’s where your mind is going?” Aaron asks.

“I don’t know, babe, I’m freaking out!”

“Okay, stop,” Kira cuts in. “Don’t go there. This could still be an accident.”

Corinne shakes her head. “I don’t think so anymore.”

Kira looks at her, and something passes between them. Corinne runs her hands over her face and then looks at the rest of us.

“I think Tilly or whoever’s in charge here messed with the watches so that we can’t send messages. As in, they planned for us to be stranded like this.”

A shocked laugh bubbles out of me. It’s not funny, but I can’t help it. This whole thing is so over-the-top ridiculous, like every shitty event from the past few months is culminating in the perfect storm of—well, shit.

“Okay, yes,” Kira says. “But even if they messed with the watches, that doesn’t mean this was definitely … murder.”

She lowers her voice for the last word, like if she says it too loudly it’ll come true. A little late for that, I think. I reach for the papers in my pocket again, the Sponsor’s messages ringing in my head.

“Again,” Aaron says through gritted teeth, “we have two dead bodies. What else could this possibly be?”

Kira starts to pace. “McKayleigh said she was going for a walk, right? Did anyone see her after that?”

“Wait, Graham and Zane.” Max leans forward. “You both went outside after McKayleigh left. You didn’t see anything?”

“Are you really asking us for an alibi?” Zane snaps. “She was our best friend. What’s your alibi?”

Typical.I can almost hear McKayleigh’s voice in my head, just like when she said it earlier. And she was right. It feels like we’re on a time loop from hell, every version with the same ending: Zane puts himself first, even if it means throwing someone else to the wolves. Even if it means taking us all down with him.

“We’re just trying to figure out what happened,” Kira says carefully.

Zane pulls at his golden hair, hanging loose and damp around his shoulders like he just showered. I’m not close enough to smell it, but his vegan shampoo is seared into my sense memory, earthy and sweet. Now, the thought of it makes me sick.

“Fine,” he says. “We were out by the pool for maybe twenty minutes, but we didn’t see her. Then we came back inside.”

“Convenient,” Aaron says.

Elody presses her hands to her temples. “No offense, babe, but the sound of your voice is literally making my hangover worse.”

That makes two of us. Although maybe my sick feeling has less to do with Aaron and more to do with the evidence burning a hole in my pocket. The bomb I could throw to send Zane and his innocent act up in flames.

“McKayleigh was upset.” Kira puts her hands out like she’s trying to placate a bunch of asshole kids. “Maybe she wasn’t looking where she was going.”

Aaron frowns. “Interesting, coming from you.”

She falters. “Why?”

“Well, you did just tear her to shreds in front of everyone right before she died, so…” Elody shrugs.

“That doesn’t mean I killed her.”

“I think we can all agree that McKayleigh deserved that,” Corinne says. And then, off Graham’s tortured look: “Not death. I’m just saying, we all agree that what McKayleigh did was bad. We were right to put her in check.”

“I’d love to hear from Logan.” Aaron’s weaselly eyes bore into mine. “I mean, you tried to smash a plate on Cole’s head. You hated McKayleigh. What do you think could have happened?”

“I didn’t hate her.” It comes out on autopilot, but I don’t even know if it’s true. McKayleigh was cruel, self-centered, and ignorant. She was a bad friend and probably a bad person. But there were moments.

Like that night at the Bounce House. I was curled in my bed, sobbing for so long it felt like my new way of breathing, when McKayleigh knocked on my door. She didn’t try to talk about it or tell me to stop. She just asked if she could braid my hair. I still remember how it felt, her manicured nails on my scalp, firm but gentle, practiced over years of dance competitions. I’d done Harper’s hair plenty of times, brushing through tangles of the same stick-straight, almost-black color as mine, but this was the first time I’d ever let anyone do my own.

Want to make a real scene?

It’s what Zane was so afraid of that night: that I’d lose control, ruin everything because I was weak and afraid. If he knew what I’m holding in pocket right now …

Across the room, Zane has that familiar look in his eyes, fear disguised as a warning. And suddenly, I know what I have to do. I reach for the papers again, but as my fingers brush them, a new message sounds on my watch.

Just when I thought you’d learned your lesson …

Panic sparks under my skin, but looking around the room, I realize I’m not the only one who got the message. The Sponsor has something to say to all of us, and I hold my breath as the rest of it comes in.

Looks like we have another liar on our hands

So, I think it’s time for another vote

Who gets canceled next?

There’s another link to the voting app, and this time, it doesn’t feel so much like a threat. It feels like a sign. Because now I know what’s at stake: Zane could finally get exposed for what he’s done. I don’t care who the Sponsor is, why they’ve given me this ammunition. If they want a scene, I’ll fucking give it to them.

I pull out the papers.

“Wait,” I say, glancing at the timer ticking down on my screen. “Stop the clock.”

It stops. A shiver runs down my spine, and I straighten. No going back now. I stare at Zane.

“There’s something everyone should know before we vote.”