Page 18 of The Executioners Three

“I’m sure it’s fine, Jim.” Mom didn’t even glance at the pages he handed her. She was chewing her lip and staring at the empty Village. Outdoor heaters stood sentry at the end of each bench.

They looked defeated with no one at all to keep warm.

“I just don’t understand,” Mom murmured. “I put up flyers in all the usual places. And it’s a small town! People talk!”

“There’s still five minutes.” Freddie patted her mom’s shoulder. “People will come—I’m sure they’ll come.”

People did not come. Literally no one showed up, and five minutes later, after ascending the clattery stairs onto the stage, Freddie found herself standing all alone at the center and staring mournfully down at her mom and Mr. Binder.

Her fingers were cold, so she shoved them into her peacoat pockets.

And she couldn’t stop dreaming of her lost scarf. It would be so welcome right about now.

“You’re such a good sport,” Mr. Binder called from the front row. “I’ll get Greg and Principal Tamura to come to our next practice, but for now, why don’t you go ahead and get…” He trailed off. “Wait, Patty—do you hear that? I think people are coming!”

Sure enough, Freddie heard it too: car engines. Lots of car engines.

At first, Freddie thought, OH MY GOD, THANK YOU, JESUS. Until the engines cut and voices followed. Voices that—weirdly—sounded like teenagers. Moments later, she could see the people reaching the gate, and although they were very clearly her own age, she didn’t know any of them.

Except for the figure at the fore—a lanky, sauntering person with his hands in his pockets and a smirk that bordered on evil.

Freddie darted for the stage steps. “No, no, no.” She leaped down two at a time.

Gone were any thoughts of missing scarves or torturous pageants.

Instead, she suddenly understood exactly how Tybalt had felt when he’d learned Romeo had crashed his party.

She flew over the dirt and reached Theo Porter before her mom could.

He grinned at Freddie like she imagined the Big Bad Wolf might: hungry and very pleased with himself.

“ What, ” she spat, “are you doing here?”

“What does it look like?” He bobbed his shoulders innocently. “We’re volunteering.”

“No you’re not—”

“Freddie!” Mom cried. “Stop that!” She shoved in close and thrust out a hand. Her eyes glowed with excitement; her cheeks glowed with cold. “I’m Patricia Gellar. Thank you so much for coming. And so many of you, too!”

Theo—curse him—bared a smile that oozed Romeo charm. The effect was only enhanced by his perfectly combed hair, his fitted gray sweater, and his flattering navy fleece jacket.

Boys didn’t dress that nicely outside of catalogs. And oh how Freddie wanted to destroy him.

“You must be Freddie’s mom.” Theo shook her hand. “I’m Theo Porter, ma’am. And can I just say how much we love your daughter over at Fortin Prep?”

“You do?” Mom’s eyebrows popped high. “I mean, of course you do!” She giggled before twisting to Freddie and whispering, “You are officially the best daughter ever. What a surprise!”

Freddie held her tongue. Because what else could she do? She was not the best daughter ever, and Theo was obviously up to no good.

Well, over her dead body would he ruin this pageant.

“Oh, Freddie, this means you won’t have to play all the roles!”

“Yay,” Freddie said flatly, her focus never leaving Theo. To think that only yesterday she’d thought he might be an okay guy.

“And Greg won’t have to perform either!” Mom’s elated gaze swept over the benches—which now had more than enough bodies to fill the pageant.

Freddie hoped they all got beard hairs stuck to their chins.

“Yay,” Freddie repeated. Theo was staring back at her, but instead of murder in his eyes, there was only delight.

“Well, get back up on stage, Traveler Number One!” Mom poked Freddie’s shoulder. “You’re up first, remember? And”—she lifted her voice, waving a script high—“we need a Traveler Number Two to join her—”

“I’ll do it.” Without breaking eye contact, Theo grabbed the script. “Lead the way, Gellar.”

Freddie spun on her heel and stalked back onstage. There was nothing she could do. Absolutely nothing. Since the Fortin Prep students were volunteers, she couldn’t tell them to just bugger off.

God, where was a fire alarm to pull when she needed one? Because obviously all these people weren’t here to simply help . Theo Porter had something else up his nefarious sleeve, and no doubt it would be very bad for Mom’s pageant.

It was, Freddie had to admit, inspired, and if she weren’t so angry with Theo, she might have been a little impressed.

She skipped up two steps at a time, then strode for the center of the stage beside the not-yet-sawed fake tree. Theo joined her a heartbeat later. He was really smiling now, as were all the other Fortin Prep students, lounging on the benches and looking like they owned the Village.

“Quiet, everyone!” Mr. Binder bellowed. He, at least, looked as discombobulated as Freddie felt.

He, at least, seemed to understand these out-of-towners were likely up to no good.

But he didn’t send them away. Instead, he moved onto the stage and proceeded to introduce the pageant, laying out how parts would be assigned (to whomever raised their hand first) and what the goal of the project was (to raise money for City-on-the-Berme upkeep).

Freddie took the opportunity to step in close to Theo.

“Why are you here?” she whispered. Frosty wind pushed against them. It ruffled his hair and made his cheeks and nose pink. Which looked… good. Unfortunately.

“I told you.” He batted those long, pale lashes of his. “We’re just here to volunteer. You see, Gellar, I don’t know if you heard”—he bent down conspiratorially—“but we all got arrested last week, so now we have to do community service to atone for our collective sins.”

As he was saying this, a thought occurred to Freddie. One that only added to the murder on her mind. “Did you take down all of my mom’s flyers?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He uttered this in a way that suggested he knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Listen to me, Mr. Porter.” She closed the space between them. His blue eyes glittered in the afternoon light. This was not the Theo Porter from her weird dreams, offering her a heart of iron. This was a creature of darkness and evil and rich-boy terror.

“If you in any way mess with this pageant,” Freddie whisper-hissed, “I will destroy you. Do you understand? This event is the most important fundraiser of the year for my mom.”

“Understood.” He flashed another innocent smile. “But you don’t need to worry, Gellar. I told you: we’re only here to volunteer.”

“And I’m Miss America.”

“You could be, with cheekbones like those.”

Freddie made a guttural scoff. Theo had stolen that line from her, and now she really, really didn’t understand how she’d ever smiled at him yesterday.

“Alrighty,” Mr. Binder said with a flourish of his script. He turned to Freddie and Theo. “Let’s get started, shall we? Today, we will read our lines while I take you through the basic stage directions. Does that sound good?”

“Absolutely,” Theo declared while Freddie simply mumbled, “Yep.”

“Great. So Travelers Number One and Number Two are a young couple—”

“What?” Freddie recoiled.

“—who have just found City-on-the-Berme after months of hard travel. I want to see relief and adoration on your faces. Can you do that?”

“Absolutely,” Theo declared again while Freddie simply chomped down on her tongue. She was doing this for Mom. For Mom, for Mom.

Okay, and a little bit for Sabrina too.

“Fantastic.” Mr. Binder strode to the edge of the stage. “Begin.”

Freddie sucked in a long breath and lifted her script. She could do this. “Thank goodness we have finally arrived—”

“Louder!”

“—FOR ’TIS COLD HERE IN AUTUMN.” She was practically yelling now. She lifted her gaze to Theo.

“It’s alright,” he read. Then he splayed a hand to his chest. “ I am here to keep you warm, my love.”

Oh god. Freddie gritted her teeth. For Mom, for Mom . “Look, there’s a light through yonder—”

Mr. Binder coughed. “You skipped a part, Freddie! Read it again. All of it.”

“Just shoot me now, please.” She inhaled through her nose. Exhaled through her mouth. Then she read the line again—properly and loud . “LOOK, MY LOVE, THROUGH YONDER TREES. Maybe ’tis a logging camp. I have heard of a generous man named Allard Fortin here. Perhaps ’tis he?”

Theo’s nostrils flared, like he was trying to hold back laughter. “I think you are—”

“Louder!”

“I THINK YOU ARE RIGHT, MY LOVE. LET US APPROACH AND SEE.”

“Good.” Mr. Binder clapped lightly. “Now you kiss and walk off stage holding hands.”

“Wait, what ?” Freddie rounded toward Mr. Binder. “There’s no kiss in here.” She rattled the pages at him.

“There most certainly is.” He lifted his own copy. “Page two, Freddie.”

No, no, no. She tore back the first page…

And yes, yes, yes . There it was in very simple words: Traveler Number One and Traveler Number Two kiss affectionately.

“But it’s just a rehearsal,” Mr. Binder said, “so I won’t make you do it now—though you will have to in the performance.”

“Over my dead body.” Freddie twisted toward Theo, thinking surely he was as horrified by all of this as she was. But he was simply grinning his wolfish grin.

Then, as if all of that weren’t bad enough, the crowd of Fortin Prep students seemed to have figured out what was going on.

“Kiss her!” one guy hollered from beside a heater.

“Right on the lips!” a girl sang from the third row.

“Kiss, kiss, kiss!” chanted another, and in seconds, they were all shouting it.

Freddie was definitely going to murder Theo Porter.

Except that as she watched him, his cocky grin stripped away. In fact, he looked uncomfortable, one hand on the back of his neck and the other tapping at his thigh. “I’m sorry,” he said after several seconds of this. “Just ignore them and let’s walk off stage.”

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

Somehow, the fact that Theo was trying to be nice only made Freddie hate him more.

Like, he couldn’t just flip from being a Bad Human to a Good One in the space of ten seconds.

That was not how this worked. Plus, if Freddie walked off stage right now—as Theo was currently twisting around to do—then that would be letting all of the jerks in the audience win.

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

No. Freddie was the Prank Wizard here. This was her Village Historique, her pageant, and those Fortin kids had messed with her mom.

“Wait.”

Theo was halfway across the stage now. He didn’t hear Freddie above all the shouting.

Kiss, kiss, kiss.

So Freddie said it louder: “WAIT.”

This time he heard. This time he paused and glanced back. And before Freddie could really consider what she was doing or that her mom was watching or that she might seriously regret this once it was done, she kicked into a jog.

Five bouncing steps brought her to him. His forehead creased. “What is it?” he asked. Then he seemed to realize what she was doing—why she was rolling onto her toes and bringing her face to his.

She gave him a split second to pull away. A chance to escape if this wasn’t what he wanted. But Theo didn’t pull away. Instead he leaned in, and Freddie’s lips reached his.