Page 35

Phoebe

Then

The program should have ended after Tomas’s accident.

Any self-respecting company would have called it quits then, refunded our money.

But not Hamilton College. It’s not enough that one of us died a horrible death while the rest of us watched.

No, they had to make sure we pushed through. God forbid they lose a cent.

So on we trundled, our bus pulling away from Cullamonjoo National Park and on to our next destination.

The scenery stayed the same outside our window for hours, the red of the dirt reminding me of the blood dripping from Tomas’s leg.

And any time I closed my eyes, trying to block out the wasteland around us, I saw his dark eyes, his kind smile, the freckle above his lip that winked whenever he talked.

Sweet, decent Tomas. My friend.

“This is your fault!” Adrien had shouted on the bank of the lake as Birrani drove off with Tomas in the buggy. “You were angry with him for telling me about your juvenile plan back in Cairns. And this was your revenge. To get him in that water, to get him killed!”

What could I say? She wasn’t wrong. It was my fault.

And maybe, just maybe there was a part of me that was bitter towards him for ratting me out back on the yacht. Is that why I did it? Am I really as horrible as they say?

Yes, you are.

There was no stopping the voice now. It had become my internal soundtrack, constantly blaring in my ears. And I could no longer argue with it.

***

I wake up to light filtering through the window of my room, illuminating Claire’s empty bed. We arrived at the Raven Inn late last night, a dump in the middle of nowhere that makes me long for the tents we used in the national park. No question, we had a lesser chance of catching bedbugs in those.

I wipe sleep from my eyes, the dreams from my fitful night still clinging to me.

Unidentifiable screams mixed with the feeling of being underwater, the brush of something slimy against my skin.

I shiver and look over at Claire’s bed. Empty.

She must have slept with Declan last night.

Unsurprising, given that she’s made no effort to say more than two words to me since Tomas’s accident.

I didn’t think our relationship could get any chillier after her admission during the truth and dare game, but now it’s downright frozen.

I pull the threadbare blanket up to my neck, freezing.

Odd, since this doesn’t seem like the place that would waste money by blasting the air-conditioning, even though the daytime temperatures are topping a hundred degrees.

My eyes fall on the sole painting hanging on the wall opposite my bed, one I didn’t notice when we checked in last night.

A slick black raven with beady eyes stares out from inside the frame, and I can’t fight the feeling that it’s watching me, judging me along with everyone else.

I hear a loud gurgle in my stomach and heave myself from the bed, making it to the bathroom just in time to get sick in the toilet.

I don’t know how long I’m in there, but at some point, I hear Claire return.

“We’re going to be late,” she yells through the bathroom door, her voice colder than usual. “We’re supposed to meet downstairs in two minutes to visit that mine.”

“I’m not going to make it,” I yell back. “Tell Nick I’m sick.”

“Sure,” she says, and I hear the latching of our door. I know what the others will think: that I’m too ashamed to show my face after what happened. But I know the truth.

Later that afternoon, when the others are supposed to be off riding camels—an Outback attraction, who the fuck would have thought?—I leave the Inn and walk towards town. The shopping options are severely limited, but eventually I find what I need. A small, locally owned pharmacy.

I don’t make eye contact with the middle-aged female cashier as I fork over the box I found on one of the sparsely stocked shelves. Its cheerful pink lettering shouts up at both of us from the counter as she rings it in. Results 6 days sooner!

When I get back to the Inn, plastic bag in hand, I’m relieved to find the front desk empty of the creepy ass receptionist who checked us in last night.

Randy, I heard Nick call him. As I took my key, his eyes cut through my clothing.

I watched him do the same thing to Adrien, and when she shot him a look, he muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

Like most men, he appears to have two approaches to women—disgust and pleasure—and he erratically oscillates between the two.

But as I head towards the stairs, a door next to the desk flies open, nearly striking me in the side.

“Jesus,” I say, jumping back as Randy exits, a strange smirk on his face. In the flurry of activity, I drop the plastic bag in my hand, the box tumbling onto the carpet in full view of me and—

Randy reaches for the pregnancy test before I can, making no effort to hide his glee.

“Give me that,” I say, grabbing for it.

His lips contort into a disturbing smirk. “Someone’s been having fun.”

I ignore him, my face on fire as I shove the test back into the bag.

“Who was it though? Those little boys didn’t seem like they were much interested in ya. Maybe that curly-haired fucker. The Irish one. Or…” His eyes light up with disturbing excitement. “Maybe it was that big bulky leader of yours. I can see ’im givin’ it to ya.”

Anger pulses through me. “You’re disgusting.

” I should stop there, I know, but all the emotions that have been coursing through me over the last few days—the grief, the anxiety, the never-ending guilt—turn explosive.

I turn so that I’m facing Randy head-on.

“You sit down here all day, every day with your dick in your hand and watch guests come in and out, living their lives. While you stay here, in this dump. You’re nothing.

No, you’re less than nothing. A pile of worthless shit. ”

Randy’s jaw slackens and he looks like he’s been struck. I don’t wait around for his response. Instead, I spin, taking the stairs two at a time. It’s only once I’m back in my room that I realize why those words sounded so familiar, why they came so easy.

They were the same things my brother used to say to me.

And then a second thought strikes me.

Randy doesn’t seem like someone who lets things lie. And he certainly isn’t the kind of guy who lets a woman talk to him like that.

What will Randy do to get his revenge?