Free The Deadly Sister by Eliot Schrefer

ordinary and even boring. If I could go back then, knowing what I knew now, I would write to him: Be good to the ones who adore you. Because, as it turns out, one of them may kill you.
    I kept telling myself that each page would be the last. But I continued searching. I realized that I was looking for someone. Not as my main purpose, but as a side curiosity. Caitlin, the girl that Maya had mentioned. Caitlin, who Jefferson said had a nice ass.
    Nowhere. Not a mention.
    Finally, I surfed away from Jefferson’s page and on to Maya’s. It seemed she’d obeyed me and hadn’t gone online since I’d talked to her, thank god.
    Her last update had come from her phone, eleven P . M . last night, probably right after Jefferson had died.
    I’m lost.

11.
    I spent Sunday worrying about Maya and accomplishing nothing, and it wasn’t until the evening that it hit me that I would have to go to school the next day. Could I pretend to act normal, could I possibly concentrate on schoolwork and APs and graduation plans? How would I answer everyone’s questions? By early Monday morning, my plan had switched to dodging school entirely. I couldn’t take all the group pomp that was bound to happen. If it was anything like what had happened after those boys almost decapitated one another in that sword incident last year, there would be a somber message on the morning announcements, and then the whole school would crack open. There’d be an assembly and maybe shrinks brought in to stop us from throwing ourselves in front of trucks. Everyone would be concerned and caring and suspicious and awful. They’d ask me what I knew and I’d mess up my answer. Maybe a big plug would come undone at the base of my skull and all this steaming gray truth would come boiling out. I didn’t know what was going to happen, and that was why I couldn’t let it start.
    I’d tried to call Veronica a few times on Sunday, but she never picked up. It was for the best that she avoided outside contact, but it still had me worried not to know whatwas going on with Maya. I showered like usual, picked up the lunch my mom left for me, weathered a squeamishly long hug, got into my car, and headed in the direction of school. But I chose the right turn lane when I technically should have gone left, and any possibility of Monday being a school day was history. I traveled the couple of exits to Veronica’s. Cheyenne called while I was on the way, undoubtedly because she’d seen I wasn’t at school and wanted to make sure I was okay. I let her go to voice mail—I’d never done that to her before.
    Veronica answered the door in a sari she’d bought in a thrift store years ago and wore on days when she said she was working but was actually watching talk shows. Her hair was in curlers. Who actually wore curlers in the twenty-first century?
    “What are you doing here, honey?” she asked.
    “I wanted to check on Maya. How’s she doing?”
    “Come in,” Veronica said.
    “She’s not here anymore, huh?” I said as she sat me on the couch.
    “How do you know me so well?” Veronica said. She had this sigh in her voice, like she was expecting me to fight. So I did.
    “Don’t try to soften this,” I said. “You’re supposed to be taking care of her.”
    “I know I am, Abby,” she snapped. “And watch your tone. I’m not your little sister. I won’t have you muscling me around.”
    “So where is she?” I asked.
    “You need to be involved as little as possible,” she said. “I say that for your protection. The less you know about where she is, the better off you are. Rest assured that I’ve sent Maya to a secure place. The police won’t find her.”
    “This is not the plan, Vee. You promised to tell me where you sent her. Is she around here? Is she still even in Florida ?”
    “You know I’m not going to tell you anything more. Do you want an oatmeal cookie? Made them this morning.”
    “I know you mean well, but it’s not a good idea. I’m