Jake

“Come on, come on,” I say to my phone, willing Jess to text me back. I watched her come home and stare up at my window, but then she scurried into her house as if she’s afraid of me. My truck is gone, my house has been searched, and reporters were on our curb all day, and she missed the whole thing. I need her, but she’s not answering my question, r u mad at me.

As the minutes tick by and my screen doesn’t light up, my chest tightens, my eyelids twitch. I need her to believe me, or believe in me. I would never hurt anyone without a good reason. How do I know Tegan didn’t attack me? Maybe I defended myself? No one can be certain.

I close my eyes and remember how good Jess smelled at school today when we talked in the alcove. It took everything I had not to kiss her until she forgot her first name—but then she took off, as if being around me scares her. Losing Jess to college would be less painful than this, seeing her every day and being rejected.

I text Manny: can u come over

He texts back right away: On a date with Alyssa

I scroll through people’s stories, and it seems like everyone is out—at the movies, at restaurants, on dates, or throwing parties in honor of Shawna. Life goes on for everyone except me—and Shawna, I guess.

I turn off my brand-new phone and glide down the steps to the kitchen. The vodka bottle Mom keeps on the top shelf sings my name: Jake, drink me.

Fuck it.

My life can’t get any worse.

The first drink is a memorial toast to Shawna.

The second is in honor of the Crystal Cove Police Department that I expect will arrest me at any moment. I don’t know how blood got onto my T-shirt, but if it’s Tegan’s blood, I’m fucked. And if the police have Shawna’s phone or pull her last texts out of the cloud, they’ll see we were supposed to meet at Falcon’s Peak, where she died. I will be even more fucked.

The third drink is for the hell of it, and now I’m just drinking.

“Cheers, asshole!” I say to my reflection as I pour another screwdriver and swallow it in two greedy gulps. I don’t think Jess is coming back to me, and the feeling is all too familiar, like when Dad died, like falling into a bottomless pit. She’s gone and it’s my fault, all because I followed my dick into a bedroom.

And now Shawna—fuck! Her body was lodged between the rocks while Manny and I were racing to the top of the bluff, feeling so alive. Was that seal I glimpsed beneath the surface her? It feels too close to home, too coincidental—no one will believe I wasn’t involved.

And Tegan is still missing.

Or is she?

I grip my glass and peer out the kitchen window into the dark woods. “Tegan, are you out there? Are you behind all of this?” If Jess is right and the live feed was set up as a joke on Tegan, then maybe Tegan isn’t missing. Maybe she’s getting revenge on her friends for double-crossing her and she’s setting me up to take the fall. If so, then who is next on Tegan’s list? And where is she hiding? She must be close.

I lean over the kitchen sink and drink water directly from the faucet.

In my mind’s eye, I imagine Shawna’s body falling off that cliff, briefly flying, and then crashing into the waves, striking unseen boulders, becoming trapped underwater, and then her bright blood reddening the sea. Jesus. I pour another shot and swallow the liquor, reveling in its hot and numbing sting, then toss the glass into the sink and stumble into the family room.

People speculate online, saying that I’ve snapped and gone on a vengeful rampage—that I murdered Tegan and Shawna to prove my devotion to Jessica—but if I’ve lost my mind, how would I know?

Thinking of Jess reminds me of Brendon Reed, the Cameraman, and how he posted her reaction on YouTube. That reminds me of my promise to beat the shit out of him. I grab my laptop, pull up his channel, and watch the last seven of his stupid-ass videos. The FBI took down the one starring Jessica, but the Cameraman has over fifty thousand new subscribers since Sunday morning. The more I think about Brendon, the angrier I get.

People loved watching my girlfriend fall apart on his channel. He even zoomed in on her face, cutting between her horror and my tongue in Tegan’s mouth. I don’t care if he has an alibi or not; he must know something. I should not go to his house. I know that, but fuck it, I think it’s time I paid the Cameraman a visit.

If I’m going to jail, I might as well get answers first.