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We come down through the rooftop entrance, and as soon as she reaches the bottom of the staircase, I snatch her into my arms and pull her into my body.

“We have to be quick,” she gasps, pulling off my shirt. “Matty will be waiting for me.”

We crash onto the sofa, and I toss the PlayStation controller to get it out of the way. I peel off her tank top, she pulls her hair out of its ponytail, and she starts to unfasten my shorts.

But I jump off of her. “Condoms,” I groan.

I hurry to the surveillance room, already hard with the blood rushing to my groin. I’d dumped some provisions in here when I came to delete any possible footage of us on the bridge two days ago.

But Aro calls out, “Just one!”

“Maybe.”

I hear her laugh. She thinks I’m kidding. I open the grocery bag on the desk, digging out the box and pulling a couple of packages out. I stuff them in my pocket and start to leave, but I see one of the drawers cracked open.

The drawer with the phones.

I slide it open all the way and immediately spot the new addition. It’s a twenty-year-old Nokia like most of the others, but this one is black and a slightly updated 6210.

I pick it up and press the Power button. The screen lights up, and my heart skips a beat. “Aro?” I call out. “Come here!”

I wait for the phone to go through its start-up process, and after a few seconds, I hear her shuffle in behind me.

She stops at my side. “What is it?”

“Did you put this in here?”

I look down at her, seeing she holds my T-shirt to her body, her shorts still fastened. I show her the phone.

“It’s a phone that wasn’t here before,” I point out.

“I’ve never seen it.” But then she draws in a sharp breath. “There was someone here, though. I completely forgot to tell you.”

“What?”

“He grabbed me on Grudge Night, pulled me in through the mirror in Rivertown before a cop caught me. He saved me, actually. I thought it was you at first.”

“And?” I blurt out.

“And nothing.” She shakes her head. “He left. He just said ‘You know why they call this place Carnival Tower? Because freaks play here.’ And then he was gone.”

What the hell?

I look back down at the phone. Someone knows we’re here. I mean, I kind of knew that, but he’s been coming in and out while we’ve been here. He left a new phone.

Whoever he is, he’s having fun with us.

I should’ve realized something was wrong when I noticed the portrait missing in the other tunnel yesterday. I just assumed Aro moved it.

I tap the Menu and find Messages, clicking on the only thread I see.

I told you she always liked me more.

I hold it between Aro and me, so we can both read.

You think? the owner of the phone replies. Maybe she likes your face. Maybe she fantasized it wasn’t actually you.

Aro looks up at me, and I try to make sense of what they’re saying. She likes his face. Winslet?

Did she think it was someone else she was having sex with?

“Twins?” Aro says.

I stare at the phone. The story says one friend died, the other avenged him. The legend says one friend faked his suicide, while the other joined him in taunting her.

But both are mistaken.

“They weren’t friends,” I say out loud. “They were twins.”

Identical, from what it sounds like.

“That’ll narrow it down,” Aro tells me. “How many sets of twins have been in Weston?”

Not many, I’m sure.

I want her in the tower, Person B says.

I do too, the owner of the cell phone replies. But I have a better idea first.

I always love your ideas.

You want more of her?

Hell yes.

You want me to have her? the owner asks.

I’m dying for it.

My blood races but it’s cold as ice.

Rivalry Week, our man says. A new tradition. Hostages.

I’m listening…

We’ll talk at home, he tells his brother.

And the conversation ends.

I exit, double-checking for more, but that was the only discussion.

I toss it back into the drawer, standing there with Aro.

“They were twins,” I murmur.

She could’ve easily slept with one, who pretended to be the other. Maybe the obsessed boy got her after all. How much more diabolical to get revenge on an unrequited love than to fake your own suicide and pretend to be your brother—the one she really wants?

“And it didn’t end with Carnival Tower,” Aro says.

“Rivalry Week…” I mumble.

She stares up at me, amazement in her eyes. “The prisoner exchange was their idea?”

Hostages, they’d said. Sounds like the prisoner exchange we have every October before Rivalry Week between St. Matt’s, Shelburne Falls, and Weston—three rival schools.

I sift through the other phones in the drawer. There’s a hell of a lot more to the story, and someone involved in it knows we’re here and is now participating.