The pledge, p.11
The Pledge, page 11
“I’m not. I’m just going back to campus. I got a mass email from the dean, and he said it’s safe because they’ve increased security and set a curfew.”
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It’s not safe,” he says. “We’ll move, and put this all behind us.”
Impossible.
“I’m not asking, I’m telling. I’m sick of hiding, and I’m going back.”
Dad’s pointer finger taps on his biceps, a nervous twitch of his whenever he is thinking really hard about something.
“I can’t stop you,” he says. “But please, don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, I have to.”
“When will you go?”
“Now. I’ll get the bus.”
“I’ll drive you. You’re not going to take any chances, okay?”
Finally, a promise I know I can keep.
Chapter Seventeen
I’m trying to feel the way that I did when I first arrived at Munroe.
I can remember the excitement, the anxiety, the level of anticipation that was nearly out of control. I want to feel that way again, but I know I can’t. Munroe used to be untouched, my chance for a new life. Now it’s more of the same, as tainted by my past as almost everything in my life has been. This whole drive has been weird, to put it lightly. Dad clearly doesn’t want me to go back to campus, but he’s forcing himself not to say anything. We’ve barely spoken. All we’ve been doing is listening to the radio, which is playing a bunch of identical-sounding pop songs, each one blandly safe. It’s probably misplaced aggression, but each one is pissing me off to an almost extreme degree. Who decided that people can make millions of dollars producing songs that sound like this?
I glance at Dad. He’s gripping the steering wheel tight, and I swear he’s driving slower than he normally does. I’ve never gone against him like this. I know it’s what I have to do, though. Nobody else is going to die because of me.
“What are you thinking about?” asks Dad.
“Nothing.”
He huffs but returns his attention to the road.
We reach the Munroe sign and pass by it without comment. We make it to my dorm, and Dad pulls off the road. The campus is different. When I was here last time, it was buzzing with activity. Now it’s still, and so quiet. Too quiet. I know from the email the dean sent that the first week of classes has been pushed back to next week, but seeing it in real life is something else.
“Thanks for driving,” I say.
He puts the car in park and undoes his seat belt.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m walking you to your door. Do you have your Taser?”
I take it out and show him.
Inside, my dorm building is pretty similar to what it is like outside: It’s much quieter than it should be. This should be the first week of classes; everyone should be here. The only reason classes have been delayed is because of me. We go up the elevator. I readjust my grip on the Taser, and we head down the hall.
We reach my door without incident. I unlock my door and then check all the hiding spots. When we find there’s nobody in here, I pocket my weapon.
“Is there any way I can talk you out of this?” Dad asks.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Just be smart, okay? If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Dad hugs me, squeezing me tight. “Don’t do anything stupid, all right?”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t go out alone at night. If you want to go anywhere, pay someone to drive.”
“I will.”
“I’ll pay, no matter how much it costs.” He hugs me again. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to come back home with me?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. If it takes you longer than half an hour to respond to a text, I’m calling the cops.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I get home.”
“All right.”
He leaves. I close my door, then take out my phone and text Eli.
I’m here.
I know, I saw.
* * *
Hey, I just got back to campus. Are you around?
I have the message saved, ready to send to Josh. I haven’t been able to hit send yet. What if he doesn’t want to see me anymore? I would get it, too. I want to talk to him, though. He likes horror movies, so he might have an idea of how to catch Eli so all of this can end.
And honestly, I don’t want to be alone right now. Maybe if we can hang out like we did during rush, then I wouldn’t feel like this.
I hit send, then toss my phone away so it lands on my bed.
That was stupid. There’s no way that he’s going to want to spend time with me, not after two people died because of me. Maybe I should have just …
Bzzt.
Josh has responded.
Hey, man! I’m sorry, I left campus, it didn’t seem safe. Drew and Booker are still around, if you need someone to talk to.
Oh.
This is damning.
It’s a good move—getting himself away from me is probably the best way for him to stay safe.
My room suddenly feels so quiet.
All I can do is wait until Eli messages me. I don’t have any classes to distract myself, or any fraternity things, because those have all been put on hold as well. My pledge pin is still sitting on my dresser. I pick it up and admire it. In another life, I’d be having the best time as a pledge. I’d be spending as much time as I possibly could with Oren, and I’d hang out with the other pledges. It would be amazing. I might even be fixing things with Alyson, not ghosting her yet again.
I swipe through on my phone, and I feel curious, so I go to Beth’s podcast. She’s uploaded a new episode, titled “Murders at Munroe.”
I hit play.
“Hey, welcome to Margaritas and Murder. I’m Beth, and I love murder. This week’s episode is a big one, folks, and one I know you’ve been dying to hear me talk about. That’s right, I’m going to talk about the murders of Brian Collins and Justin Lynch, two young men I had the honor of knowing myself. I’m going to give you a front-row seat to what happened. I’ve had a lot of people tell me I should leave to stay safe, but don’t worry, I’m going to be fine. I’ve got pepper spray and my whistle. Plus, let’s say I’m not the kind of person the killer is interested in.”
My phone chimes.
It’s a text from Oren.
Hey, I heard you got back to campus. Want to grab a coffee?
I know I should say no. It’s the safest thing for him. Yet there’s still that dream I have of what this year should be. Spending time with Oren is a big part of that, and here is my chance. I run through potential risks, and it should be fine. It’s the middle of the day, which isn’t Eli’s MO. As long as we go somewhere that’s well lit and has plenty of people, and we don’t make a decision to go somewhere private, then it will be fine.
Somewhere public?
Great. The Grove in half an hour?
I’ll see you then.
* * *
The biggest Munroe coffee shop, the Grove, is split over two levels, with booths running along the far walls and loads of tables, almost all of which are empty right now. I can picture what this would look like while classes are on: People would be in here on their laptops, chugging iced coffees in order to power through their assignments or to study before their exams. Right now there’s just a girl with messy hair reading a YA novel with a bluish-green cover about someone called Leah, and a pair of people focused on their computers.
“Grab us a table?” asks Oren. “And what would you like?”
“I can get it.”
“My shout. You can get the next one.”
His eyebrows lift up. “Sorry, um, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll owe you. A cappuccino, please, with oat.”
“That’s my order,” he says as he makes eye contact.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
I go to an empty booth with a good view of the front door and slide in. I check my phone, and I haven’t gotten any new messages from Eli. That’s a good thing, at least. I have followed his instructions, and he managed to get me back here, but at the same time I don’t really believe that. He asked me back here for a reason, so there’s no way that he will just leave and give up. No, if things have gone quiet it’s because he’s waiting for the right time to strike.
Oren comes back holding two plates, each with an enormous chocolate cookie. They seem homemade, and my guess is that they are more chocolate than cookie, which is my favorite ratio when it comes to cookies.
“They looked too good to resist,” he says as he places the cookie down in front of me. Faint lines of steam are rising up from it, and the chunks of chocolate are melted and gooey. My mouth starts to water, and I’m struck by how sweet it is that he got this for me. I think I needed it more than he knows.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
He smiles, and my God, is his smile cute. It’s a little lopsided. Even with everything going on, it’s impossible to miss how cute it is. How cute he is, really. As he has been every time that I have seen him, he’s wearing a great outfit, and his skin is almost flawless. He doesn’t even have any bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t missed a second of sleep. He must have, because there’s no way he hasn’t, but he’s somehow found a way to hide it. Now isn’t the time, but at some point, I should ask him about his routine.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I’ll be okay.”
“I know, that’s not what I asked.”
“Right,” I say. “I’m scared.”
“Me too.”
“Guilty…,” I continue.
“Guilty?”
“Yeah.”
“Why guilty?”
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t help them, even if it’s not fair of me to cry. Oren has lost two of his friends, and it’s my fault. He should be the one venting to me, not the other way around. And yet, I appreciate what he is doing for me so much. This is like when I was offered a beer at the first rush event that I went to. Over the past two years I’ve been sure that people would dislike me if they found out what I’ve done, and recently I’ve been convinced that the brothers would be the same as the people on the internet and would blame me.
That fear seems unfounded, though.
“This isn’t your fault,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“It kind of is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t come here.”
A waiter comes over and places two coffees down in front of us. I glance at the waiter, and I see recognition in his eyes, which is quickly replaced by fear. He goes back to the coffee machine, and it might just be in my head, but it seems like he got away from me as fast as he could.
“Listen to me,” says Oren. “You aren’t to blame for this.”
“You know about the lake.”
He blinks. “I do, yeah.”
“Do you know what I did?”
He watches me, his gaze steady. “I do. What does that have to do with anything?”
I want to tell him that it means I’m a bad person. And that this feels like some sort of cosmic retribution, a way for the scales to rebalance. You can’t kill someone without some sort of cost.
“I don’t know.”
“I knew Brian and Justin,” says Oren. “They were my brothers. And they wouldn’t blame you.”
“Really?”
“I know they wouldn’t. This isn’t your fault.”
All right. That’s two people who have told me that now. Maybe I should listen. I think about it, if my past had happened to Oren, and then this happened. It’s pretty clear that I wouldn’t blame him, I would blame Eli. I can extend that same grace to myself. It feels a little wrong, like I don’t really deserve it. I can try to ignore that feeling, though. I’ve gotten pretty good at that.
“Thanks,” I say. “I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime.”
I take a bite of my cookie, and it’s amazing. Hunger builds, and I realize I can’t remember the last time that I ate anything. This cookie is like flipping a switch, as now I’m ravenous.
“I am curious about something,” says Oren. “Why did you come back?”
I can’t lie to him. Brian’s and Justin’s deaths might not be my fault, but I still think that Oren deserves the truth.
“Eli told me he’d kill again if I don’t.”
The door to the coffee shop opens, and I jump. It’s a stranger, though.
“Have you told this to the police?” asks Oren.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I thought they’d do something to stop me.”
He thinks this over. “They probably would. Have you thought about letting them? Stop you, I mean.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“If I do what he asks, then I’m buying time before anyone else gets hurt. But you’re right, I should tell the cops. I will after this.”
“What if you just leave? Don’t get me wrong, I’m liking getting to know you, but you might be safer somewhere else.”
“He’d keep killing until I come back, I know that. And I won’t be able to live with myself if I did nothing and someone else paid for it.”
He chews his lip. “I want you to be safe.”
“Me too.”
He sips his coffee. “In that case, can I help?”
“How?”
“If he asks you to do anything, tell me and I’ll come with you.”
“It’ll be dangerous.”
“He killed my friends, Sam. Right now I don’t want anything other than to get him behind bars.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am,” he says, and his tone is steady. I don’t think he’s lying to me.
“Okay, then.”
For the first time, I feel a little flicker of hope. Eli won’t be expecting me to team up with someone else to take him down. This gives me an advantage.
Game on.
Chapter Eighteen
Drew Lee goes swimming every day.
It’s his routine, and even with everything going on, he needs it. In fact, he thinks he especially needs it right now, after his breakup with June, and what has been going on on campus. He needs to zone out for a while, and to let his mind be numbed by exercise until everything feels less sharp.
He walks through the door to the Munroe pool and looks out. There’s one other person in the pool right now, swimming laps. Drew grips the handle of his bag tighter. On a regular day, a sight like this would be a dream come true, because he despises having to share a lane with another person.
Right now he wishes there were more people here.
But it’s fine. It’s midafternoon, and the dean has said that the campus is safe. He knows he is going to be fine. He always is.
He was a high achiever in high school: top of his class in two subjects and second in a third. He was on the debate team, and all the teachers loved him. He had a girlfriend and was popular. He had everything that society said he should want. But it wasn’t enough for him, and he knew it, and now he’s here.
Nobody back home really understood why he wanted to leave his home state of Oregon to travel to Santa Cruz. Maybe people would’ve gotten it if he was going to an Ivy—he had the grades, but none of them felt right. But Munroe did. He couldn’t explain it, but getting away from his old life was clearly the right move. It made everything more difficult, and he is sad that his decision to move ended his relationship with June, but he still knows he made the right call. This is where he is meant to be.
His heart aches. June. She used to swim with him sometimes. He can’t blame her for the breakup—he’s the one who decided to leave. Sometimes he thinks he should’ve tried harder. His parents didn’t teach him to be a quitter, and yet he gave up on a relationship that once meant everything to him. But sometimes quitting is the right decision, and things were never going to work out with June, not when he was feeling like this. The simple truth is that he loved her, but he couldn’t stay there, and she wouldn’t move away from her family, so they never stood a chance.
His family probably is the reason. They were always breathing down his neck, telling him what to do. It’s not their life, though. It’s his.
He goes into the men’s locker room, which is empty. The air is cool, and the whole place is quiet.
“Hello?” he calls. His voice echoes slightly.
He frowns and makes his way to the shower area. There is a row of showers and then three toilet cubicles. One is open, and the others are closed but unlocked. He goes up to the first one and knocks on the door. Nothing.
He pushes it open. Empty.
He goes to the next. He wonders what he would do if the killer was here. Would he have enough time to escape before the killer caught him and cut his guts out?
With the tip of his foot, he pushes the door open. It swings open too hard and bangs into the cubicle wall, making a loud noise. Drew flinches, but the stall is empty.
Phew, he thinks.
He goes back to the lockers and starts to change. Once he’s in his Speedo, he goes through to the showers and turns on the tap. A steady spray of water comes out, and he steps under it, wetting his hair. He turns around to make sure he has eyes on the entrance.
Brian and Justin are both dead. The killer is still out there. He needs to be careful.
He turns off the water, then goes back out to the pool. The water stretches before him, still and pristine. He dips his goggles into the water and then puts them on. He knows that, soon, the exercise will make his mind shut up. If he pushes himself hard enough, that is.
He dives into the water, barely making a ripple as he breaks the surface. He swims underwater for as long as he can, until he comes up for air and starts swimming toward the end at full speed.
June. Brian. Justin.
He reaches the end of the pool, then flips under, and then pushes off. He turns his head, to take in a breath. He swims up, and back, up and back, as if he is in a trance. Drew has never meditated, but he thinks that swimming works the same way for him. It’s one of the few times he feels peace. The other person swimming gets out of the pool and leaves, but he keeps going. He’s in the zone now.
“No.”
“What do you mean, no?”
“It’s not safe,” he says. “We’ll move, and put this all behind us.”
Impossible.
“I’m not asking, I’m telling. I’m sick of hiding, and I’m going back.”
Dad’s pointer finger taps on his biceps, a nervous twitch of his whenever he is thinking really hard about something.
“I can’t stop you,” he says. “But please, don’t do this.”
“I’m sorry, I have to.”
“When will you go?”
“Now. I’ll get the bus.”
“I’ll drive you. You’re not going to take any chances, okay?”
Finally, a promise I know I can keep.
Chapter Seventeen
I’m trying to feel the way that I did when I first arrived at Munroe.
I can remember the excitement, the anxiety, the level of anticipation that was nearly out of control. I want to feel that way again, but I know I can’t. Munroe used to be untouched, my chance for a new life. Now it’s more of the same, as tainted by my past as almost everything in my life has been. This whole drive has been weird, to put it lightly. Dad clearly doesn’t want me to go back to campus, but he’s forcing himself not to say anything. We’ve barely spoken. All we’ve been doing is listening to the radio, which is playing a bunch of identical-sounding pop songs, each one blandly safe. It’s probably misplaced aggression, but each one is pissing me off to an almost extreme degree. Who decided that people can make millions of dollars producing songs that sound like this?
I glance at Dad. He’s gripping the steering wheel tight, and I swear he’s driving slower than he normally does. I’ve never gone against him like this. I know it’s what I have to do, though. Nobody else is going to die because of me.
“What are you thinking about?” asks Dad.
“Nothing.”
He huffs but returns his attention to the road.
We reach the Munroe sign and pass by it without comment. We make it to my dorm, and Dad pulls off the road. The campus is different. When I was here last time, it was buzzing with activity. Now it’s still, and so quiet. Too quiet. I know from the email the dean sent that the first week of classes has been pushed back to next week, but seeing it in real life is something else.
“Thanks for driving,” I say.
He puts the car in park and undoes his seat belt.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m walking you to your door. Do you have your Taser?”
I take it out and show him.
Inside, my dorm building is pretty similar to what it is like outside: It’s much quieter than it should be. This should be the first week of classes; everyone should be here. The only reason classes have been delayed is because of me. We go up the elevator. I readjust my grip on the Taser, and we head down the hall.
We reach my door without incident. I unlock my door and then check all the hiding spots. When we find there’s nobody in here, I pocket my weapon.
“Is there any way I can talk you out of this?” Dad asks.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“Just be smart, okay? If I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do.”
“I’ll be fine.”
Dad hugs me, squeezing me tight. “Don’t do anything stupid, all right?”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t go out alone at night. If you want to go anywhere, pay someone to drive.”
“I will.”
“I’ll pay, no matter how much it costs.” He hugs me again. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to come back home with me?”
“Nope.”
“Okay. If it takes you longer than half an hour to respond to a text, I’m calling the cops.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. I’ll call you when I get home.”
“All right.”
He leaves. I close my door, then take out my phone and text Eli.
I’m here.
I know, I saw.
* * *
Hey, I just got back to campus. Are you around?
I have the message saved, ready to send to Josh. I haven’t been able to hit send yet. What if he doesn’t want to see me anymore? I would get it, too. I want to talk to him, though. He likes horror movies, so he might have an idea of how to catch Eli so all of this can end.
And honestly, I don’t want to be alone right now. Maybe if we can hang out like we did during rush, then I wouldn’t feel like this.
I hit send, then toss my phone away so it lands on my bed.
That was stupid. There’s no way that he’s going to want to spend time with me, not after two people died because of me. Maybe I should have just …
Bzzt.
Josh has responded.
Hey, man! I’m sorry, I left campus, it didn’t seem safe. Drew and Booker are still around, if you need someone to talk to.
Oh.
This is damning.
It’s a good move—getting himself away from me is probably the best way for him to stay safe.
My room suddenly feels so quiet.
All I can do is wait until Eli messages me. I don’t have any classes to distract myself, or any fraternity things, because those have all been put on hold as well. My pledge pin is still sitting on my dresser. I pick it up and admire it. In another life, I’d be having the best time as a pledge. I’d be spending as much time as I possibly could with Oren, and I’d hang out with the other pledges. It would be amazing. I might even be fixing things with Alyson, not ghosting her yet again.
I swipe through on my phone, and I feel curious, so I go to Beth’s podcast. She’s uploaded a new episode, titled “Murders at Munroe.”
I hit play.
“Hey, welcome to Margaritas and Murder. I’m Beth, and I love murder. This week’s episode is a big one, folks, and one I know you’ve been dying to hear me talk about. That’s right, I’m going to talk about the murders of Brian Collins and Justin Lynch, two young men I had the honor of knowing myself. I’m going to give you a front-row seat to what happened. I’ve had a lot of people tell me I should leave to stay safe, but don’t worry, I’m going to be fine. I’ve got pepper spray and my whistle. Plus, let’s say I’m not the kind of person the killer is interested in.”
My phone chimes.
It’s a text from Oren.
Hey, I heard you got back to campus. Want to grab a coffee?
I know I should say no. It’s the safest thing for him. Yet there’s still that dream I have of what this year should be. Spending time with Oren is a big part of that, and here is my chance. I run through potential risks, and it should be fine. It’s the middle of the day, which isn’t Eli’s MO. As long as we go somewhere that’s well lit and has plenty of people, and we don’t make a decision to go somewhere private, then it will be fine.
Somewhere public?
Great. The Grove in half an hour?
I’ll see you then.
* * *
The biggest Munroe coffee shop, the Grove, is split over two levels, with booths running along the far walls and loads of tables, almost all of which are empty right now. I can picture what this would look like while classes are on: People would be in here on their laptops, chugging iced coffees in order to power through their assignments or to study before their exams. Right now there’s just a girl with messy hair reading a YA novel with a bluish-green cover about someone called Leah, and a pair of people focused on their computers.
“Grab us a table?” asks Oren. “And what would you like?”
“I can get it.”
“My shout. You can get the next one.”
His eyebrows lift up. “Sorry, um, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“No, it’s fine, I’ll owe you. A cappuccino, please, with oat.”
“That’s my order,” he says as he makes eye contact.
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
I go to an empty booth with a good view of the front door and slide in. I check my phone, and I haven’t gotten any new messages from Eli. That’s a good thing, at least. I have followed his instructions, and he managed to get me back here, but at the same time I don’t really believe that. He asked me back here for a reason, so there’s no way that he will just leave and give up. No, if things have gone quiet it’s because he’s waiting for the right time to strike.
Oren comes back holding two plates, each with an enormous chocolate cookie. They seem homemade, and my guess is that they are more chocolate than cookie, which is my favorite ratio when it comes to cookies.
“They looked too good to resist,” he says as he places the cookie down in front of me. Faint lines of steam are rising up from it, and the chunks of chocolate are melted and gooey. My mouth starts to water, and I’m struck by how sweet it is that he got this for me. I think I needed it more than he knows.
“You’re welcome,” he says.
He smiles, and my God, is his smile cute. It’s a little lopsided. Even with everything going on, it’s impossible to miss how cute it is. How cute he is, really. As he has been every time that I have seen him, he’s wearing a great outfit, and his skin is almost flawless. He doesn’t even have any bags under his eyes, like he hasn’t missed a second of sleep. He must have, because there’s no way he hasn’t, but he’s somehow found a way to hide it. Now isn’t the time, but at some point, I should ask him about his routine.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“I’ll be okay.”
“I know, that’s not what I asked.”
“Right,” I say. “I’m scared.”
“Me too.”
“Guilty…,” I continue.
“Guilty?”
“Yeah.”
“Why guilty?”
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t help them, even if it’s not fair of me to cry. Oren has lost two of his friends, and it’s my fault. He should be the one venting to me, not the other way around. And yet, I appreciate what he is doing for me so much. This is like when I was offered a beer at the first rush event that I went to. Over the past two years I’ve been sure that people would dislike me if they found out what I’ve done, and recently I’ve been convinced that the brothers would be the same as the people on the internet and would blame me.
That fear seems unfounded, though.
“This isn’t your fault,” he says. “You know that, right?”
“It kind of is.”
“No, it’s not.”
“This wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t come here.”
A waiter comes over and places two coffees down in front of us. I glance at the waiter, and I see recognition in his eyes, which is quickly replaced by fear. He goes back to the coffee machine, and it might just be in my head, but it seems like he got away from me as fast as he could.
“Listen to me,” says Oren. “You aren’t to blame for this.”
“You know about the lake.”
He blinks. “I do, yeah.”
“Do you know what I did?”
He watches me, his gaze steady. “I do. What does that have to do with anything?”
I want to tell him that it means I’m a bad person. And that this feels like some sort of cosmic retribution, a way for the scales to rebalance. You can’t kill someone without some sort of cost.
“I don’t know.”
“I knew Brian and Justin,” says Oren. “They were my brothers. And they wouldn’t blame you.”
“Really?”
“I know they wouldn’t. This isn’t your fault.”
All right. That’s two people who have told me that now. Maybe I should listen. I think about it, if my past had happened to Oren, and then this happened. It’s pretty clear that I wouldn’t blame him, I would blame Eli. I can extend that same grace to myself. It feels a little wrong, like I don’t really deserve it. I can try to ignore that feeling, though. I’ve gotten pretty good at that.
“Thanks,” I say. “I needed to hear that.”
“Anytime.”
I take a bite of my cookie, and it’s amazing. Hunger builds, and I realize I can’t remember the last time that I ate anything. This cookie is like flipping a switch, as now I’m ravenous.
“I am curious about something,” says Oren. “Why did you come back?”
I can’t lie to him. Brian’s and Justin’s deaths might not be my fault, but I still think that Oren deserves the truth.
“Eli told me he’d kill again if I don’t.”
The door to the coffee shop opens, and I jump. It’s a stranger, though.
“Have you told this to the police?” asks Oren.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“I thought they’d do something to stop me.”
He thinks this over. “They probably would. Have you thought about letting them? Stop you, I mean.”
I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“If I do what he asks, then I’m buying time before anyone else gets hurt. But you’re right, I should tell the cops. I will after this.”
“What if you just leave? Don’t get me wrong, I’m liking getting to know you, but you might be safer somewhere else.”
“He’d keep killing until I come back, I know that. And I won’t be able to live with myself if I did nothing and someone else paid for it.”
He chews his lip. “I want you to be safe.”
“Me too.”
He sips his coffee. “In that case, can I help?”
“How?”
“If he asks you to do anything, tell me and I’ll come with you.”
“It’ll be dangerous.”
“He killed my friends, Sam. Right now I don’t want anything other than to get him behind bars.”
“You’re sure?”
“I am,” he says, and his tone is steady. I don’t think he’s lying to me.
“Okay, then.”
For the first time, I feel a little flicker of hope. Eli won’t be expecting me to team up with someone else to take him down. This gives me an advantage.
Game on.
Chapter Eighteen
Drew Lee goes swimming every day.
It’s his routine, and even with everything going on, he needs it. In fact, he thinks he especially needs it right now, after his breakup with June, and what has been going on on campus. He needs to zone out for a while, and to let his mind be numbed by exercise until everything feels less sharp.
He walks through the door to the Munroe pool and looks out. There’s one other person in the pool right now, swimming laps. Drew grips the handle of his bag tighter. On a regular day, a sight like this would be a dream come true, because he despises having to share a lane with another person.
Right now he wishes there were more people here.
But it’s fine. It’s midafternoon, and the dean has said that the campus is safe. He knows he is going to be fine. He always is.
He was a high achiever in high school: top of his class in two subjects and second in a third. He was on the debate team, and all the teachers loved him. He had a girlfriend and was popular. He had everything that society said he should want. But it wasn’t enough for him, and he knew it, and now he’s here.
Nobody back home really understood why he wanted to leave his home state of Oregon to travel to Santa Cruz. Maybe people would’ve gotten it if he was going to an Ivy—he had the grades, but none of them felt right. But Munroe did. He couldn’t explain it, but getting away from his old life was clearly the right move. It made everything more difficult, and he is sad that his decision to move ended his relationship with June, but he still knows he made the right call. This is where he is meant to be.
His heart aches. June. She used to swim with him sometimes. He can’t blame her for the breakup—he’s the one who decided to leave. Sometimes he thinks he should’ve tried harder. His parents didn’t teach him to be a quitter, and yet he gave up on a relationship that once meant everything to him. But sometimes quitting is the right decision, and things were never going to work out with June, not when he was feeling like this. The simple truth is that he loved her, but he couldn’t stay there, and she wouldn’t move away from her family, so they never stood a chance.
His family probably is the reason. They were always breathing down his neck, telling him what to do. It’s not their life, though. It’s his.
He goes into the men’s locker room, which is empty. The air is cool, and the whole place is quiet.
“Hello?” he calls. His voice echoes slightly.
He frowns and makes his way to the shower area. There is a row of showers and then three toilet cubicles. One is open, and the others are closed but unlocked. He goes up to the first one and knocks on the door. Nothing.
He pushes it open. Empty.
He goes to the next. He wonders what he would do if the killer was here. Would he have enough time to escape before the killer caught him and cut his guts out?
With the tip of his foot, he pushes the door open. It swings open too hard and bangs into the cubicle wall, making a loud noise. Drew flinches, but the stall is empty.
Phew, he thinks.
He goes back to the lockers and starts to change. Once he’s in his Speedo, he goes through to the showers and turns on the tap. A steady spray of water comes out, and he steps under it, wetting his hair. He turns around to make sure he has eyes on the entrance.
Brian and Justin are both dead. The killer is still out there. He needs to be careful.
He turns off the water, then goes back out to the pool. The water stretches before him, still and pristine. He dips his goggles into the water and then puts them on. He knows that, soon, the exercise will make his mind shut up. If he pushes himself hard enough, that is.
He dives into the water, barely making a ripple as he breaks the surface. He swims underwater for as long as he can, until he comes up for air and starts swimming toward the end at full speed.
June. Brian. Justin.
He reaches the end of the pool, then flips under, and then pushes off. He turns his head, to take in a breath. He swims up, and back, up and back, as if he is in a trance. Drew has never meditated, but he thinks that swimming works the same way for him. It’s one of the few times he feels peace. The other person swimming gets out of the pool and leaves, but he keeps going. He’s in the zone now.
