Jane's a teenage weirdo. She's awkward, plain, anxious, and above it all, a hacking prodigy.
Ryder's the quintessential high school hero, or so it seems. Dark secrets that threaten their lives are uncovered when Jane decides to snoop into Ryder's...
Ryder's car was surprisingly cheap and stuffy, so far unlike what Jane had pictured belonging to the stylish star of Alexander High. An old blue minivan sat at the curb, parked illegally beneath a street light. It was lucky that it was too early for police to be enforcing parking laws.
With a jingle of keys, Ryder slid the passenger door to the side, revealing a cramped interior. The seats had been removed, leaving an open space that Ryder had filled with several suitcases. Possessions, retrieved from his father's house.
"Mi casa, su casa," Ryder joked wryly. With a grunt, he crawled inside, ducking his head. Jane had no need to do the same, as she was more than short enough to fit inside without stooping too much.
She decided immediately that she liked it. It was comforting, despite the lack of space. And it smelled like Ryder. That was a bonus.
Jane groaned, and immediately collapsed against the carpeted floor of the van. Pain shot through her limbs as her muscles truly relaxed for the first time that night.
"Right, I'll get us somewhere out of town, then. You should rest," Ryder said.
Jane was too tired to reply. Ryder's jacket was beneath her head, cushioning it, the red fabric blending with the orange of her hair. She heard the door slide shut as Ryder walked around the length of his minivan, reentering through the driver's side.
From her vantage point on the floor, the orange light of the street lamp almost appeared to be a halo as it was diffused through the window. She raised one freshly-unbloodied hand, watching the light seep between the gaps of her fingers.
"Go to sleep, Jane," Ryder said, glancing at her through the rear view mirror. Her strange behavior was making him worry.
With another jingle of keys, the van came to life.
The engine, so unlike Watson's powerhouse of a vehicle, was quiet, almost hypnotic in the gentle way its cylinders growled and hissed. Ryder's driving was much the same, gentle and understated, and, with no traffic on the roads, the brakes were barely needed. Slowly, Jane felt the warm grip of sleep pulling her beneath.
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"No!"
The gunshot repeated, over and over, an ear-shattering beat to the most twisted song she had ever heard. The kitchen burned all around her, flame licking at her limbs, chewing through her flesh like a sentient being. Jane looked into the emerald eyes of Jackson, as cold and emotionless as the precious gem itself.
He laughed, though it was not his voice. Victoria's carefree uproar tumbled from his mouth, lilting and cheerful. The gunshots were speeding up, growing louder. Jane could not tell where it was coming from.
The fire was all around her now, orange fingers clawing at her from every direction. Jackson stood from his seat. She realized he was the source of the gunshots, though no pistol was in his hand.
