Chapter 4 THE TEXT

POV: Wren

Someone knows something about Callum's brother.

I know this because I was not fully down the stairs this morning when I heard his sharp intake of breath above me. I know this because I have learned in seventeen years to recognize the sound a person makes when something hits them somewhere they cannot protect.

I did not turn around.

It was not my business, and Callum Voss is not my problem.

But I spent the entire bus ride to school thinking about the look on his face at the top of those stairs, and I hate that I spent even one second on it.

School is a different kind of war today.

Yesterday I was the new girl with the sign. Today I am the new girl from the comment. The one CVoss18 laughed at. People I have never spoken to know my name now, and not in any way that helps me.

I walk into first period with my head up and my face completely neutral. Zola is already in her seat. She looks at me when I sit down and slides her notebook over without a word.

She has written: I saw the comment. I know it was Sable. Everyone knows it was Sable.

I write back: Who is Sable?

Zola's eyebrows go up as I have just asked who invented gravity. She writes: Sable Voss. Callum's cousin. Thinks she owns him. Thinks she owns everything. You moved into her territory, and she decided to remind you of your place.

I stare at that.

Voss. Same last name. Which means the girl who posted that video is connected to the family my mother just married into.

I write: Does she go here?

Zola writes: She is literally the reason half this school is afraid to exist out loud. Yes, she goes here.

I close the notebook. Put my pen down. Stare at the board.

I have been at Hartfield Prep for exactly thirty-one hours, and I already have an enemy with the same last name as my new stepbrother and access to my entire life through a house I did not choose to live in.

One more year, I tell myself.

But it sounds a lot less convincing than it did yesterday.

I see Sable for the first time at lunch.

I know it is her before anyone tells me because of the way the room moves around her. She is the kind of pretty that feels like a warning. She walks with two girls behind her, and her eyes do a slow sweep of the cafeteria like she is taking attendance.

They land on me.

She smiles.

It is the most terrifying smile I have ever seen on a human face because it is completely warm. Genuinely warm. The kind of smile that makes you think you read the situation wrong, that maybe she is actually nice, that maybe you should smile back.

I do not smile back.

Her smile stays the same as she looks away and sits down.

Zola appears beside me with a lunch tray. "She saw you," she says without looking at Sable.

"I know."

"And you didn't flinch."

"I know."

Zola sits down. "Good," she says simply. "Don't ever flinch. That's the only rule that matters with Sable."

I get home at four.

Mom is at the kitchen table with her hands wrapped around a mug she is not drinking from, which is her tell. Her hands do that when she has something to say that she has been practising.

"Hey, baby," she says. Too light. Too careful.

I drop my bag. Sit across from her. "What happened?"

Not a question. She knows I know.

She turns the mug in her hands three times. "I got a call from Mrs. Okafor today. She's the school parent liaison. Apparently, there was an incident yesterday involving a video."

"Mom."

"And your name was in the comments, and she wanted to make sure."

"Mom. I know about the video."

She stops. Look at me. And I watch her face do the thing that breaks me every single time. The guilt. The helpless, drowning guilt of a mother who works two jobs and cannot be everywhere and knows it.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she whispers.

Because you were glowing last night, I think. Because you looked happy for the first time in three years, and I would eat a thousand sign-on-the-back mornings before I took that from you.

"It's handled," I say. "The comment was deleted."

"Wren"

"It was Sable Voss, Mom. Callum's cousin."

The mug stops turning. Her face changes. "What?"

"She posted a video of me from yesterday and used Callum's account to comment on it. He deleted it this morning. It's gone."

Mom sets the mug down very carefully. "Callum used his account to"

"No. Sable used his account. He didn't know."

She is quiet for a moment. I can see her putting the pieces together and not liking the picture they make.

"I'm going to call Gerard," she says.

"Please don't."

"Wren, this girl is family now. She was in our home last week for dinner. If she is targeting you, then Gerard needs to know that his niece."

"Mom." I reach across and put my hand over hers. "If you call Gerard, Sable finds out I told. And then it gets worse. That is how this works. Please."

Mom looks at me for a long time.

Then her eyes fill, and she blinks it back fast because she is Nora Calloway, and she does not cry where people can see her. I got that from her.

"You should not have to know how this works," she says softly.

I squeeze her hand. "One more year."

She squeezes back.

I am in my room at nine, trying to focus on homework, when my phone buzzes.

Unknown number.

I almost ignore it.

But the preview text stops me cold.

You should ask your new stepbrother what he is hiding about Theo. Ask him what really happened at the medical centre six months ago. Ask him why his father doesn't know.

I sit straight up.

My heart is slamming.

I type back fast: Who is this?

Three dots appear. Disappear. Appear again.

Then: Someone who knows Callum Voss better than you do. Someone who knows what he's capable of. You think he's the victim here? He's not. And when you find out the truth about what he did, you're going to wish you had never moved into that house.

The dots disappear.

The number goes dead.

I stare at my phone until my eyes blur.

Then I look up at my ceiling.

Two doors down the hall, Callum Voss is hiding something about his little brother. Something bad enough that someone is using it as a weapon.

And I am living in the same house as whatever that secret is.