Free Nearly Gone by Elle Cosimano Page A

find Marcia’s body. Maybe even get caught with it.
And he’d marked her. But why? What did it mean? The number looked like it had been written in blue ink, but it wasn’t smudged or faded by the water. Permanent marker.
They drew the number ten in permanent marker on her arm . . .
Like the number ten on Emily’s arm.
Like the blue markings on my chem lab table . . .
DEAD OR ALIVE . . .
I slumped to the floor.
The person who wrote those ads knew me. He knew I read the Missed Connections on Friday mornings. He knew exactly where I would go, leaving the door to my physics class open. He carved the message in my desk, and left the chair down to make sure I saw it. He knew how to communicate with me.
Somehow, this was all about me.
I needed to get out of here. I snuck out of the bathroom and down the stairs, emerging in a corridor near the auditorium. Blue lights flashed through the windows from the parking lot outside and walkie-talkies squawked muffled commands. I backed around the corner and peered around the wall, listening to the chaos on the other side.
Theater students lingered in tight groups as EMTs and police cleared a path. Jeremy stood a head taller than the crowd, watching through his camera and snapping pictures until a uniformed officer put a hand over the lens. Part of me wanted to grab Jeremy’s attention, wanted to pull him behind the wall with me and tell him everything. But a short girl with dark hair stood close to him. He tucked her under his arm, holding her close while she dabbed her cheeks with a tissue. Anh.
My reflection stared back from the darkened courtyard windows where I’d stood only an hour ago. I was too close, too visible here. I backed slowly away from the blue flashing lights. When I rounded the corner, I ran, cutting through dim halls I could navigate blind, stopping at each exit, checking the doors. All locked.
When the front hall came into view, it was silent. Empty. I smacked into the release bar and it yielded easily, sending the metal door flying into the wall outside. I jumped out of my skin at the crash. It was dark. Steam rose off the cooling blacktop. I pulled my hood low over my face, but the police by the auditorium were busy interviewing the students who remained and didn’t look over.
The parking lot was empty except for a handful of cars, including Jeremy’s Civic. I needed to get home. I was sure the police were anxious to speak with me, or at the very least would keep a close eye on me after tonight. I’d reported a crime before it had happened. Nicholson would be an idiot not to suspect me.
I felt eyes on me. A figure stood just beyond a weak halo of light. I sped up as we made eye contact. Lonny’s friend, the guy I’d crashed into, reclined against a motorcycle, silently taking in the scene.
I kept my head low as I veered from the sidewalk and slid into the shadows, avoiding the security lights, cutting through the ball fields, not caring that this route through the backyards of rough neighborhoods might be more dangerous than where I’d just come from. Wanting only to make myself invisible. But I couldn’t.
He’d been watching.
And he’d seen me.

10
    The speed limit in Sunny View was a heart-stopping twenty miles an hour, and most people treated the three stop signs as suggestions. From my front steps, I watched the Civic come to a complete stop at each one. I checked my wrist in an aggravated pantomime for Jeremy’s benefit. I didn’t actually own a watch, but I knew we were going to be late and I wanted to get to school early. I needed to know what everyone saw or heard on Friday night and by now, the rumor mill would be churning out the details. Jeremy grinned weakly at me through the windshield as he pulled to a careful stop at my feet.
    I threw open the passenger door. The air felt heavy and thick and seemed to press in from all sides. I rolled up my window and Jeremy flicked on the AC without a word, angling his own vent at me.
    “I