Chapter 2 The Target

Monday morning at Oakridge Academy felt less like a school and more like a funeral home.

The glittering gym from Friday night was locked up, cordoned off with yellow police tape that fluttered in the damp morning breeze. Patrol cars were parked along the gravel driveway, their blue and red lights painting the brick walls of the main building in rhythmic, silent flashes. Detectives in heavy coats stood by the fountain, interviewing parents who looked furious that their expensive schedules were being disrupted by a police investigation.

I kept my head down, pulling my hood up as I walked through the iron gates.

Usually, as a scholarship student, my goal was to be a ghost. I didn't join clubs, I didn't sit at the popular tables, and I certainly didn't talk to the police. But today, the silence on campus was heavy, suffocating.

Every single student was glued to their screen. Nobody was talking out loud; they were all whispering in tight, paranoid circles.

"Did you hear?" a girl muttered as I passed the lockers. "They found her car by the lake. Empty."

"The police think she ran away," another whispered back. "But what about the podcast? That had to be scheduled."

I didn't stop to listen. I hurried down the hallway toward my locker, my chest tight. I couldn't stop thinking about Charlotte's voice coming through my phone on prom night. I’ve left the master files in safe hands. Who did she leave them with? Charlotte was nice to me, but we weren't best friends. She had her own circle of elite allies or enemies.

When I reached locker 402, I spun the dial, my fingers slick with sweat. 14... 32... 08.

The metal door creaked open.

I froze.

Sitting right on top of my chemistry textbook was a heavy, matte-black USB drive. It was tied with a thin, crimson velvet ribbon, the exact color of Charlotte’s prom dress. Tucked beneath the ribbon was a small, folded piece of thick cardstock.

My heart did a violent flip.

I grabbed the note first, shielding it with my body as I unfolded it. Written in Charlotte’s neat, looping print were three short lines:

They are watching me, Joy.

If I don't make it to graduation, you are the only one who can play the tape.

Don't trust the council.

My breath hitched. My hands shook so badly the paper fluttered in my grip. Me? Why me? I was just the girl who poured her punch. I was just the quiet girl who sat in the back of the class.

"What do you have there?"

The voice was low, rough, and entirely too close.

I gasped, slamming my locker door shut with a loud CLANG. I whipped around, pressing my back against the cold metal, desperately jamming the note and the USB drive into my hoodie pocket.

Standing in front of me was Liam Vance.

If Charlotte was the school's golden girl, Liam was its dark shadow. He was Charlotte’s stepbrother, but they couldn't have been more different. While Charlotte was perfect and beloved, Liam was notorious. He had a reputation for getting into fights, skipping classes, and ignoring every rule the academy had. He was tall, with dark, messy hair and eyes that looked like they hadn't slept in days. Right now, those eyes were locked onto my pocket.

"Nothing," I squeaked, my voice cracking. "Just... school stuff."

Liam took a step closer, crowding me against the lockers. He didn't look like the grieving brother. He looked dangerous.

"Don't lie to me, Joy," he said, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "I saw you drop something in your pocket. And I know my sister's handwriting."

My throat went dry. "I don't know what you're talking about, Liam. I need to get to class."

I tried to slide past him, but he put his hand on the locker next to my head, blocking my path. He leaned in, and I could smell the faint scent of rain and tobacco on his jacket.

"My sister is missing, and the police don't know garbage," Liam whispered, his eyes drilling into mine. "But she trusted you for some reason. She told me she was going to leave the final episode with someone who wasn't part of the system. Someone they couldn't buy."

He looked down at my pocket, then back up to my face.

"You have the drive, don't you?"

I swallowed hard, looking around the hallway. A few yards away, two members of the student council were watching us, their eyes cold and calculating. They were already keeping tabs on everyone.

"We can't talk here," I whispered, panic rising in my throat.

Liam’s eyes flicked to the council members, his jaw tightening. He lowered his hand, stepping back just enough to let me breathe.

"The old boiler room behind the gym," Liam said, his voice barely audible. "During lunch. If you don't show up, I'll tell them exactly what you have in your pocket."