High schooler, Helena Gallagher is still recovering from life's latest tragedy when chaos occurs.
Another murder.
Only this one is much closer to home. And when fingers start pointing towards her boyfriend-Elliot-she has no choice but to intervene...
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A cup of coffee is suspended mid-air as I read through my word document so far. I run my purple highlighter along the bits I consider important and add notes. Things I have missed out. I worked relentlessly last night, considering every clue. I even studied the Never Have I Ever note, attempting to understand why only two letters are coloured in red. I've come to the conclusion that they must be initials of some sort. AI or IA.
Whoever that is.
"Lena?"
"Yeah?"
"Do I have time to shower?" asks Celia, shouting from upstairs.
I glance at the clock. "Sure! We're not leaving for another hour!"
The sound of running water interrupts my train of thought and stimulates my mind's need for more coffee—not that I need any more. Instead, I decide to text Jack with an update.
Helena: Elliot has been transferred to Highfield. Working on getting him out. Hope camp is okay? :)
I then decide to torture myself by composing yet another text message that'll no doubt get ignored by Jasmine.
Helena: Hope you're okay? Would be nice to catch up before we leave for college.
Shit—College!
I haven't given it much thought lately and with accommodation still to be organized, I really can't afford to let things slip. I rummage around in the top drawer for Penn's brochure and flip to the page I'm looking for.
"What's that?" asks Mom.
She helps herself to some coffee.
"College stuff," I reply, glancing over the various options. "Dorm room applications."
"I can't believe my baby is going to college."
I close the page and a sigh into my hands. "Your baby might not be."
Mom offers me a sympathetic smile and hugs my shoulders from behind. "With everything going on, I understand it's the last thing on your mind. But Elliot would want you to go."
"Even if it means leaving him in there?"
"He'll be out by then."
"And what if he's not?" I question. "What if he never gets out, Mom?"
I suddenly burst into tears, holding her as though my life depends on it. I soak her shirt with my tears and sob like a small child, terrified for my future.
"Listen to me," she demands, bringing her face level with mine. "That's not going to happen."
