KITTY SHOULD HAVE FOLLOWED OLIVIA OUT THE BACK DOOR of the club, grabbed her by the shoulders, and talked some sense into her. She was the leader of DGM, and it was her job to remind Olivia that they all needed to stick together.
The problem was, none of it was true. Kitty couldn’t trust them, not anymore. And they clearly didn’t trust her. The team was broken.
“What do we do now?” Margot yelled over the music.
Suddenly, Kitty didn’t care about the team, didn’t care about anyone but Donté. It was time for Kitty to put herself first for a change. “Go home,” she said.
“What?”
Kitty stepped into the hallway and shook her head. “It’s over.”
“You okay?” Logan asked when Margot made it back to him.
Margot nodded and forced a smile. Don’t Get Mad was no more, and she wasn’t sure how she felt. “Long line for the restroom.”
She turned to the stage, where John Baggott was crooning away at the microphone. Logan slipped his arm around her waist and held her close.
You want to know who’s the best candidate for Christopher Beeman? Try your new boyfriend on for size.
First Ed the Head, now Bree, both echoing a possibility Margot had already acknowledged. Logan could be Christopher Beeman.
Logically, she couldn’t dismiss the possibility. But even if he was Christopher, did it matter? Coach Creed had killed Ronny. All she needed to do now was prove it and then the entire nightmare would be over and it would be time to forget Don’t Get Mad, forget the girls and the missions and the wounds that would never heal. She had Logan now, and things would be better. Life would be better.
The song ended, and the crowd went wild. Shane leaned over to John and gave him a high five before he took his own microphone again. “How fucking awesome is this guy?” The audience cheered like maniacs. “And, ladies,” Shane said coyly, “I hear he’s single so, you know, there’s a chance for you after the show.”
The girls in the club screamed as if Channing Tatum had rushed the stage. One of them jumped up, threw her arms around John’s neck, and gave him a sloppy kiss.
“Exactly,” Shane said, as the girl bounced back into the pit. “Okay, last song, you guys. Thank you so much for coming out and supporting Bangers and Mosh!”
Just as they were about to start, the door of the club flew open, flooding the stuffy interior with a sharp blast of cold air, and Margot felt a chill race down her spine as the blare of dozens of sirens filled the air.
What now?
Olivia paused in the alley behind the Ledge. Her eyes stung from a mix of humiliation, shame, and smeared eye makeup, which only added to the deluge of tears. She leaned against the wall and, gritting her teeth, pressed the back of her head into the rough, jagged bricks. Olivia could have seen Amber going after Donté, or even Jezebel. But not Kitty. The only person less likely to try and date a friend’s ex was Margot.
Margot. Olivia had worked so hard to put that night back in seventh grade out of her mind. She’d known, deep down, that Amber was leading her into something sketchy, but she hadn’t been strong enough to speak up. She wasn’t popular then, just a poor kid from a broken home, so when Amber started buddying up to her, Olivia was flattered. And too scared of having that kernel of friendship withdrawn to speak up when she realized what was happening.
Then the day freshman year when by some bizarre twist of the universe, she and Margot had been assigned to the same project in religion class. She’d wanted to say something, to apologize. But how do you say you’re sorry you ruined someone’s life? They don’t exactly make a Hallmark card for that. When Kitty had approached them all about starting a secret revenge society, Olivia saw an opportunity. Maybe she couldn’t erase what she’d done, but she could at least try to make up for it.
But that was over now. Done and finished. DGM was no more, and all Olivia wanted to do was get away from the Ledge, away from the rest of DGM, and away from the site of her total and utter humiliation.
Slight problem. Peanut was her ride home, and Peanut was still inside the club. She had four dollars in her purse and her mom was passed out on the couch at home, which left only two options: walk or take the bus.
Walking five miles home on a chilly fall night sounded so romantic, like Kate Winslet caught in the rain returning from Willoughby’s. Maybe she’d catch pneumonia too, and practically die. That would show Donté how much she loved him, how much he’d hurt her. Then he’d be sorry.
Olivia stared at her feet. The black lace peep toes were sexy as hell, exposing just a hint of her scarlet toenails. But the skin around those toenails was rapidly turning a matching shade of red, and the backs of both of her heels were raw from the friction of an unfamiliar pair of shoes. Blister city in the morning. Walking was out of the question.
With a sigh, Olivia pushed herself off the wall and picked her way down the darkened alley, the shortest distance to the bus stop. It was creepily atmospheric, like something out of a movie set, and Olivia found herself tiptoeing past ominous Dumpster bins and piled-up garbage bags. She kept her eyes on the broken pavement, a necessity if she didn’t want to trip in an asphalt pothole and break her ankle. The light from the waning moon illuminated the cracked surface, veined like the parched desert as she forced herself to put one foot in front of the other.
Just a few more feet. But as she neared the end of the alley, something caught her eye. Not a garbage bag, or discarded furniture. It looked like a shoe, lying at a strange, unnatural angle. Like it was still attached to something.
Like it was still attached to a leg.
Olivia’s brain registered this fact too late. She stumbled around the corner of the building and stopped cold.
Lying facedown in the alley was a body.
Olivia had a split second to take in the camouflage pants, the bald head splattered with blood, before she started to scream.
