Page 46 of Our Darkest Summer

“We didn’t.” She tipped her head. “We just took a midnight swim without a reason.”

“Feisty.” Braxton laughed, and Kinsley exhaled sharply before slipping out from under my arm and moving toward the house.

I clenched my jaw.

“They definitely made out,” Braxton muttered under his breath.

My head snapped toward him, my stare sharp, but he just grinned. Kinsley was already halfway across the lawn, when I followed after her.

Behind me, Connor’s voice carried through the night. “And where are you going now?”

I didn’t answer, instead I doubled my pace.

I wanted to say something. I wanted to grab her wrist, pull her back, make her look at me. But I didn’t. Because what was the point? Tomorrow, when the sun rose, I would need to go back and pretend none of this ever happened.

Kinsley was standing in the middle of the living room when I crossed the threshold. As I stepped closer to her, I noticed she was holding a piece of paper in her hands. She turned around, her face pale as she held it out to me.

The words were jagged, scrawled in red marker.

“Thomas,” she whispered, but when I looked at her, she was staring past me.

I followed her gaze, my pulse hammering. Through the glass wall, beyond the mist rolling over the darkened woods, a figure stood at the tree line. Motionless, watching. A white theater mask stared back at us, its carved features grotesquely cheerful, smiling eyes, gaping mouth, a hollow, unnatural grin.

I darted into the kitchen and pulled out a long knife from the drawer, while Kinsley grabbed the flashlight from the counter. I didn’t have time to argue with her. I cut through the living room, tossing her my hoodie from the couch.

I pulled the sliding door open and stepped out onto the porch, my eyes fixated on the unmoving mask. Kinsley halted beside me, and I felt her eyes burn the side of my face. My chest heaved.

“Just be careful, Wise Girl,” I muttered, then dashed toward the forest.

The wind crashed against my body, the ground cold under my feet. The only sign of Kinsley following me was the flashlight’s warm light that painted the grass. Whoever wore the mask watched us without moving. It couldn’t be that easy, could it? I gripped the knife tighter. Why wasn’t he moving? When we were only a few feet away, my steps halted and I raised my free hand to stop Kinsley as well. The white mask smiled at us from between the pines.

“It’s just a mask,” Kinsley panted, raising the flashlight higher.

I walked closer, making sure she stayed behind me. This still could have been a trap, and we could have just walked right into it. I unfastened the mask and turned it around to find a note left on the inside.

I gritted my teeth, and raised my eyes at the forest, surveying the dark. An owl hooted and Kinsley grabbed into the sleeve of my shirt, raising the flashlight at the woods. I was about to move into the drowning scent of the pines when a branch broke.

“What are you two doing?”

We twisted around, and Braxton shielded his eyes from the flashlight.

Shit.

???

“What’s that?” Connor asked, looking pointedly at the mask in my hand when the three of us reached the porch.

Everyone else was sitting around the table where we ate less than an hour ago. How could’ve someone get into the house without any of us noticing? I slid the knife into the back pocket of my swim trunks and hid its handle with my shirt.

“We should talk,” I answered, walking up the stairs into the house.

Kinsley pulled me into the kitchen.

“What do you want to tell them?” she asked, her gaze searching mine for answers.

“Nothing. I’ll only talk to Connor.”

Her brows knotted. “Braxton saw us. The knife, the mask…we can’t just pretend we weren’t doing anything.”