LOGINWHITNEYThe loud crash at the arena stays in my head long after Carlos and I leave that evening. We search every hallway together, even checking the locker room and the equipment storage, but we find nothing except a fallen metal cart lying on its side. Carlos says it could have fallen by itself, but neither of us truly believes that. I keep looking over my shoulder as I walk home, unable to shake the feeling that someone must have been following us. Even after I lock my bedroom door that night, I cannot sleep because every small sound makes my heart race.The next morning, I decide I am letting my imagination get the better of me. I tell myself that I am only nervous because everything I believed has fallen apart. Before leaving for school, I hide my investigation notebook beneath a stack of old textbooks inside my desk drawer. I know exactly where I leave it because I carefully line up the books before closing the drawer. It makes me feel a little better, as if I have protected the
WHITNEY. The message from Whitney surprises me more than I want to admit."Can we meet after school? I want to compare what we've found."I read it twice before replying."The arena. After practice. The bleachers will be empty."She agrees almost immediately.The entire practice, I can barely focus. We are preparing for the regional tournament, and Coach keeps reminding us that every mistake matters. I do my best to stay locked in, but my mind keeps drifting back to Whitney. A few months ago, she wanted nothing more than to destroy me. Now she is choosing to meet me on her own. I never thought I would live long enough to see that happen.When practice ends, I wait in the empty arena.The lights above the ice shine brightly, making the rink look peaceful. The seats are empty, and the silence feels strange after hours of skates scraping across the ice. I place a folder on the bleachers and wait. A few minutes later, the doors open, and Whitney walks in carrying her backpack and a noteb
DEVIN.I cannot stop thinking about the names Whitney found.Every volunteer who works beside Carlos and Jayden seems to disappear after the assault. Some transferred schools, some graduated early, and others vanished so completely that it feels like they never exist at all. That is not normal, and the more I think about it, the more I believe those students know something everyone else has forgotten—or has been forced to forget.After two days of sending messages, I finally get a reply. It comes from a former volunteer named Rachel.Her message is short."One hour. Small café near the train station. Don't bring anyone."My heart starts beating faster.I quickly text Whitney."I found someone willing to talk. I’ll be meeting her privately.”She replies almost immediately."Be careful."I arrive at the café fifteen minutes early.The place is quiet, with only a few customers drinking coffee while soft music plays in the background. Every time the door opens, I look up. I expect someone
WHITNEY.I spread everything across my bedroom floor again.Photographs cover one side of the room. Newspaper articles sit beside old event programs, while my notebooks are filled with dates, names, and questions. Looking at everything together feels overwhelming, but I know I cannot stop now. Every answer I find only leads to another mystery, and somehow I feel closer to the truth than ever before.I sit cross-legged on the carpet with a pencil in my hand.Instead of looking at Carlos or Jayden this time, I focus on everyone around them. Every photograph has dozens of faces. Every event schedule has long lists of student volunteers. I tell myself that maybe I have been staring at the wrong people all along."What am I missing?" I ask myself.For nearly an hour, I circle names and draw lines between different events. Then I suddenly stop as I make an observation. The same set of names keep appearing—not once, not twice, but over and over again.I lean closer to one of the photographs.
CARLOS.The captain's letter is back on my jersey.A few weeks ago, I thought getting it back is all I wanted. Now that it finally happens, it does not feel the way I imagine. Coach quietly returns it before practice, only saying that the investigation proves I am not responsible for the leaked strategy. He does not make a big announcement. He simply places the jersey in my hands and nods once. I thank him, but when I walk into the locker room wearing it again, I can already feel the eyes on me.Some of the guys smile.Others look away.A few whisper to each other before I even reach my locker.One player mutters just loud enough for me to hear."So he's captain again."Another shrugs."Guess Coach forgot how badly we lost."I pretend not to hear them. Getting angry will only prove them right.Coach blows his whistle a few minutes later."On the ice! Let's move!"Everyone rushes out, but the tension follows us. Every pass feels sharper than usual. Every mistake earns an angry look.We
WHITNEY.I never imagine that one day I will watch Jayden the way I once watched Carlos.The thought alone makes me feel like a terrible person. For years, Jayden is the one person I trust without question. I stand beside him through everything, and I promise myself I will always believe him. Now, every smile, every pause, and every answer makes me wonder if I am missing something important. The guilt sits heavily in my chest, but I cannot ignore the questions anymore.I decide to stop asking.Every time I confront him, he becomes emotional, and we end up talking about our feelings instead of the facts. That changes nothing. So instead, I simply watch. I carry a small notebook everywhere I go, writing down little things that seem strange. At first, I tell myself I am being paranoid, but after only a few days, the pages begin filling much faster than I expect.That afternoon, I meet Jayden at a restaurant near his place for lunch.He looks healthier every day. The bruises are almost go
"You have until the count of five to decide," he adds, and I still stubbornly hesitate.I was hoping I'd finally come up with a wise choice during his little counting spree, but the bastard completely catches me off guard.Sighing in resignation, he declares, "Five."Motherfucker didn't even count.
Two days ago, I meant it when I said I was starting over. For someone who's been so hellbent on getting revenge from the start, I think I'm doing pretty well at letting go so easily. Or that's what I like to believe.I've been so obsessed with finding justice for my friend to the extent that I forg
"What?" Ava's bewildered exclamation cuts me out of my trance. "Selective amnesia?""Yes," Dave affirms solemnly. "We are hoping he recovers from it soon."Disbelief courses through me as I process the bad news. God, I can't believe it.A tidal wave of disappointment crashes over me, washing away t
My heart pounds with both elation and relief on our ride to the hospital. Ava clearly shares my emotions, judging by the grin etched across her face as she navigates the road."I told you this would all be over soon, Whit. Now look— Fuck, I'm so happy." She blasts the horn by accident, prompting me







