Page 49 of My Rules for Revenge (Twisted YA Mysteries #1)

It was a cloudy Friday afternoon when we got the news. It had rained all month long, and the sky remained a murky gray.

She had been absent the entire week, but I wasn’t particularly worried.

She had told me beforehand that she had been feeling sick and didn’t want to attend school for a bit.

I was anxious about seeing her because she texted me over the weekend that she had done something bad.

I called her and tried my best to convince her to tell me, but she insisted on telling me in person.

The end of the summer didn’t exactly conclude on a high note. Volunteering with Luna became awkward after we discussed the conflicted relationship she had with Deacon. We were still friends, and we goofed off, but it just wasn’t the same.

She was on her phone a lot, endlessly texting him. They continued to argue about things she refused to tell me about. He would call her numerous times throughout the day, too. It felt like he was trying to control Luna all day, every day.

The last week of volunteering, she told me they had broken up. She told me they had decided to call it a summer fling and mutually agreed to end the relationship. This was obviously a big shock to me, as I thought she was head over heels for him, but I was quietly very relieved.

This Deacon Forbes guy was bad news. I thought he was just another entitled brat funded by daddy’s corporate blood money. I definitely thought that was the case with this guy, but I guess she didn’t.

I never knew what exactly happened between them, and I never got the chance to fully clarify things—Luna never told me. I eventually had to find out the truth for myself.

I was reading a short story in my English class when I heard the news through the loudspeakers.

I remember seeing Marcus and Kerry Payne sitting near the back, massaging each other.

It was kind of revolting. They snuggled and touched noses on more than one occasion.

Doing that with another person should've been outlawed.

One of the Terror Twins, Angelica Johansson, was right in front, sleeping and snoring loudly. My English teacher, Mrs. Monaco, was too afraid to tell her anything.

Vivian had sent me a text mere minutes before it was announced—it was a meme of a funny goat screaming. I accidentally played it out loud for a few seconds and almost shit myself. I covered my mouth and hid my face full of embarrassment as I giggled uncontrollably like a maniac.

My laughter evaporated when Principal Newman addressed the entire school over the loudspeakers.

“Good afternoon, students and faculty. Please pardon the interruption. This is your principal speaking. I hope you’ve all been well and you’ve had a productive first week.

There’s no way for me to say this, but it is with great sadness and sorrow that I regretfully inform you that…

a beloved student named Luna Rivas…has tragically passed away.

There will be grief counselors on campus and other resources available for you if you wish to process your feelings surrounding this incredibly tragic event… ”

I heard a deafening ringing in my ears as he trailed off.

I froze like a stone statue as I processed what I had just heard.

My eyes became watery, and I felt sharp daggers penetrating my stomach.

The ground felt like it was shaking as my racing mind conjured hundreds of thoughts and questions in a matter of seconds—they bounced and collided with each other in all directions in my head.

The class was dead silent as they looked to Mrs. Monaco for guidance. She was as stunned as we were and gaped at the wall in horror. She was at a total loss for words. After what seemed like hours, someone had the courage to break the silence.

“Mrs. Monaco… Are you okay?” Kerry whispered.

“Yes…yes. You’re all dismissed. Class is done for the day. You can visit the grief counselors in the library, or you can sit in the courtyard with me. I will supervise those students who come with me until your next period,” Mrs. Monaco said, in a saddened voice.

We weren’t in any frame of mind to continue our class work after hearing the tragic news.

We silently put away our belongings, strapped on our backpacks, and followed her out of the classroom in a single-file line.

I’ve never heard the school be so quiet before—it didn’t seem real.

As we descended the stairs, I overheard some whispers.

“Oh my god, why would he announce that in the middle of class?”

“That kind of sucks—she was pretty hot…”

“Do you think she killed herself?”

“Dude, I literally liked her post like two weeks ago, and now she’s just gone…”

“Her dad posted a video on social media, and he is destroyed…”

“Who’s Luna Rivas?”

Once we were outside, I chose a bench that was far away from everyone.

I unlocked my phone and searched for her name on the internet.

I found an article by the Brightwood Register.

It stated that the details were scarce at the moment, but that Luna Rivas was found dead in Blackwood Park when a hiker tripped over her body.

She was covered in leaves and hidden near some shrubbery.

The true crime journalists from the Brightwood Register believed that foul play was involved. The traces of blood and wounds on her body pointed to a murder weapon.

Murder weapon? I thought, and I just couldn’t believe it.

Someone killed my close friend, Luna Rivas—a sweet seventeen-year-old girl with a bright future ahead of her. I knew this was what people typically said whenever a young person had their life tragically cut short, but it was just the truth. She wasn’t a bad person. She didn’t deserve to die.

So much grief and rage were bottled up inside of me from the moment I first heard the news that I couldn’t hold it in anymore. My tears exploded, and I turned around so no one would see me cry.

I failed Luna, and I would never be able to forgive myself. I knew there was something wrong, and I could have done more—I wished I could have saved her.

All I wanted was for this to be some cruel prank or some hellish nightmare that I would eventually wake up from—sadly, it was neither.

I desperately wanted to know who killed her so I could rip out his beating heart right from his chest with my bare hands. But I knew this wasn’t the way. First, I needed some answers. I needed to know what happened, how it happened, and more importantly, why it happened.

The least I could do after failing her was to ensure she received justice.

The last text I received from her shook me to my core and sent chills up and down my spine. It read:

“ I did something really bad …”