- STEVEN -

"A-Alice?" I asked, voice shuddering. "Who's Alice?"

Myra sighed on the other end. "No one really knows."

"Huh?" I felt my eyebrows wrinkle. "What do you mean, 'no one really knows'? What is she, a freaking ghost?"

"It's—it's complicated," Myra drew another heavy breath. "Before Lane...there was Alice. Elizabeth Martin's first daughter."

My jaw dropped. "What!?"

"That's right," Myra affirmed. "Lane had a sister...well, depending on who you believe."

"Mrs. Gravestepper, what are you even saying? Who is Alice, and...and why hasn't anyone thought to mention her before?"

"Because the only people who knew about her still care about Elizabeth..."

"I—I don't understand," I mused. "I mean, I get that Lane's mom might be upset about her daughter's disappearance, but—"

"No, Steven, that's not it. It's...oh, it's all so terrible—so wretchedly horrid! And now Alice is...and Lane, and...and I just can't believe this!"

"It's okay, Mrs. Gravestepper," I heard Ahmed whisper, no doubt putting his arm around her shoulder. "It's okay. Why don't you start from the beginning? You said something about Alice being Lane's sister. Was she older or younger?"

"Older—so much older. And she may not even have been Lane's real sister." Myra hesitated. "Elizabeth Martin came to this town almost thirty years ago. She came with her husband, Everett, and a shameless, misbehaving teenage daughter...Alice. That girl put gray hairs on her mother's head faster than Elizabeth could dye them. Spreading nasty rumors about her teachers, running off to kiss boys under bleachers in the middle of class, writing explicit notes to the football coach—Alice did it all. And she was proud of it, proud to have her mother running after her cleaning up her messes, proud to have the boys drooling over her; it was disgusting. That child was a monster, and she—"

"Bro! What's up!?" A heavy hand clamped down on my shoulder, jarring my concentration and making me drop my phone to the coffee-shop floor.

"What the heck!?" I whirled around, fists balled as I faced my brother. "Cam, what gives!?" I yelled, probably louder than I should've, then stooped to pick up my fallen phone. I must've pressed End Call by accident; the screen was black when I gripped it in my right hand. "Dude, I was in the middle of something!" I barked.

"Bro, chill," Cam held up both hands. "Sorry—didn't know you were talking to the freaking pope. My bad."

I growled. "Cam, what are you doing here?"

He chuckled. "Is that, like, a real question? I'm getting coffee, bro."

"No," I pressed, "I mean what were you doing with...her?" I pointed in the direction of where that girl—Alice, Mia, whatever her name was—had been sitting.

"It's called a conversation." Cam placed a hand on my shoulder and gave another laugh. "Steven, what's the deal with you? You seem really freaked..."

"Forget it," I growled, shrugged off Cam's hand. "Just forget it, okay?" I clicked my phone screen back on to dial Ahmed again.

"Steven..." He replaced his hand on my shoulder. "Bro, come on. I'm serious."

"No, Cam!" I almost screamed, shaking off his hand again. "Just leave me alone!" I heard him shuffle uncomfortably behind me, stuffing his hands inside his pockets.

He cleared his throat as I shoved my back to him. "Anna's...probably going to break up with me," his voice was gravel as it projected behind my ears.

I stopped in my tracks. What did he just say?

"I just thought..." His voice was heavy. "I thought if anyone would care...it'd be you."

I turned around. "I'm...I'm sorry, Cam," I tried. "I'm sorry about Anna." I balled up a fist and placed it against my forehead, suddenly throbbing. "I didn't mean to blow up at you. I didn't...I'm sorry."

Cam's eyes were at the floor. "Maybe I deserved it."

"No," I shook my head. "Cam, you're right—you're my brother. And I'm here for you, okay? I'm here for you." Or at least I was trying my best to be.

He half smiled. "Thanks."

I hesitated, shuddered in place. "Can I ask you something?"

He nodded, his eyes still refusing to meet mine.

"Is it true that you...lost your job?"

He nodded again, slower this time.

"Is that—is that why Anna's...?" I trailed off, couldn't finish.

Cam nodded once more. "She says I'm a liar. Apparently, half the town got that text, and she's fuming that I didn't tell her." He shuffled his hands around inside his pockets. "But how could I? How could I tell anyone?"

"This town sucks," I offered. "That's for sure." I took a step closer to him. "But that doesn't mean we can't...face it—this town, I mean. Face it together. Like we used to—back when Mom and Dad kept freaking out over every little thing." I turned my eyes away, gazed upward to the ceiling. "Who am I kidding? They still freak out over every little thing; and Dad's..." I trailed off, lost the words I knew I could never say.

I took three steps closer, stood next to Cam. Now it was my turn to put an arm around his shoulder, to grip him in a brotherly embrace. "You were strong enough to get out before, Cam," I said lowly. "This time...take me with you."

He sniffled.

"I'm serious," I whispered. "There's nothing for me—nothing for us—here. Leave EdgeWay to its secrets..."

Cam shook his head and grasped my hand, then slowly moved it from his shoulder.

"Cam, what're you—?"

"There's something I gotta do," his voice was grave. "It's Anna—she's waiting for me at the lake house." He sighed. "She promised she'd hear me out about this whole job thing...and truth is, I'm terrified of seeing her." He gulped hard. "But I have to make this right, Steven...even if it ends things. At least it'll be over." He walked with determination toward the front door, then into the night of wispy ice.

I felt the chill of the air breeze past. It all seemed surreal, so surreal that I barely noticed the sound of Cam's engine whirring. I looked around, stared at the nearly empty coffee shop. No Cam, no Alice—not even Carl Finnish with his stupid mop and barista outfit.

Resting atop the cashier station, a set of nametags was propped next to a pile of receipts, the engraved names Carl and Audrey staring back at me underneath the dim lights.

Flicking my head upward and staring to the ceiling, I listened to the whisper of the indoor air as it wafted with the scent of roasted coffee beans. The smell mingled with the air's low hum, overlaid by the faintest of buzzing tones that—

ZZING! ZZING! ZZING!

Vibrations against my palm—I instinctively looked down.

Crap! I thought to myself, four missed calls from Ahmed!

I scrolled to recent texts:

Dude, pick up! one message read.

Steven, seriously! You're not gonna believe this! read the next.

But the final message, positioned at the very bottom of my notification scrollbar, wasn't a text from Ahmed...it was from Dylan.

Steven please call me back. I got your message.. can we talk?

Without thinking, I smashed my finger on Dylan's contact photo, then jabbed the icon for placing a call. I felt sweat liquidate on the palms of my hands as the dialing ring sounded on my end.

I know I should've called Ahmed, should've heard the rest of what Myra had to say. But Dylan was my best friend.

I needed to know he was okay.

...I needed to know I was okay.

"Steven?" Dylan answered, his voice hopeful.

"Dylan," I breathed, a wave of relief crashing over me. "Dylan, you're okay." I felt tears tugging behind my eyes.

"Yeah, I'm...I'm fine." Breaks peppered his voice as he spoke.

"Are you—" I tried, "Are you...still at the hospital?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "Doctors are letting me go. My parents'll be here to pick me up any second." He gulped. "Steven, listen...about what happened before, I was—"

"Don't," I cut him off. "Please don't apologize." I let out a weak, painful sigh. "I...I should be doing this in person, not over the phone." I shook my head, heard my voice crack. "I'm such a dick. What I did was freaking stupid. I just..." My breaths were full-on gasps, the water behind my eyes creeping to the tops of my cheeks. "I put you in danger. You just wanted to play X-Box, and I made you help me break into that house. And then I...yelled at you in the hospital when—when I'm the reason you got put there in the first place." Tears fell at those last words, and I drew one last breath between the liquid streaming down either side of my face. "I'm an awful friend. I'm so sorry, Dylan."

I was crying now, and I made no effort to hide it. Dylan stayed silent on the other end; perhaps he was just listening, or perhaps he was unsure of what to say.

I wept a steady stream, let the weight of everything just wash out through my eyes. The front of my skull throbbed, heartbeat pulsing as I emptied my head of its siloed tears—tears I'd been afraid to cry, desperate to cry.

And then I heard them echoed back to me—more tears, the sound of deep sobs wailed in my ears.

Dylan?

He wasn't just listening; he was crying too. My best friend—he was crying with me.

"Dylan, I'm so sorry," my words came out as a plea. "I'm just...I'm sorry."

More tears poured down my cheeks, raining wet droplets onto the tiled floor.

Just as I felt my hand clench around my phone and my chest tighten against itself, a sudden rapping along the outside window made me look up.

In front of me, Sam stood banging on the glass. "Steven!" I could barely hear him through the clear barrier; but reading his lips, I made out words as he spoke: "Dude, we gotta get outta here! Like, now—Irina's missing!"

I exhaled. "Dylan," I whispered into my phone. "I gotta go, but...I mean every word I said, okay?"

"O—okay," he said through sniffles.

"You mean the world to me, bro," I sniffled back. "Don't ever forget that."

He half chuckled, half cried. "Same to you, bud."

He sniffled again, then the two of us hung up.

Clicking off my screen, I speed-walked to the front door where Sam waited outside and pushed my way out into the night.

"Ahmed just called," he explained. "He said Irina's...gone."

"Gone?" I drew a single breath. "What do you mean, gone?"

"He didn't say much about it, but he did say that Lane might not be acting alone. Apparently, she has a...sister? Someone named—"

"Alice," I confirmed.

Sam nodded. "Right before he called, Ahmed said Irina freaked on Myra and stormed off. She took her car and left the two of them at Molding the Way. Then Myra left and said she was going straight to the police."

"Wait, so she just ditched Ahmed?"

"Well, she offered him to come with her, but...you know what Prudence said. Ahmed told me he figured it'd be better to wait it out at Molding than get taken in by the cops, so he told Myra to go on without him. And I guess she was too frazzled by this whole thing to put up much of a fight about him staying at that nut house by himself; she left him there, waiting inside at the front desk."

I paused. "What were they even doing at Molding the Way? I thought Ahmed and Irina were supposed to be heading to Chadwick's."

"They were—it's a long story, and I get the feeling Ahmed's got a lot more to tell us when we get there. I was only on the phone with him for a few minutes, and I told him we'd come get him right away. I mean, safe or not, he's still stuck at Molding the Way all by himself."

"Oh...right," I nodded.

"Come on," Sam motioned to his car. "Let's go."