Games We Play (Thistle Cove 2)

“She went down to the bathroom after your touchdown. She never came back.”

His eyes search over everyone’s head, and a feeling of unease builds in my stomach. “You guys do this. I’ll go find her.” I push out my fist and they both bump theirs against mine. “Maybe she wanted to just celebrate with you on her own.” A sparkly cheerleader jumps on one of the players. “Away from all this craziness.”

“We’ll meet you out front,” Finn says as he’s being pulled away by a teammate.

I comb through the crowd but Kenley’s nowhere to be found. I ask a girl to check the bathroom. When I describe her, she says, “Oh, she was in here a while ago. She left though. I think she was calling someone.”

“Did you see her again?”

She shakes her head and runs off with her friends.

At the gate I bump into Shannon Hughes. “Hey—have you seen Kenley?”

“Not since the fourth quarter. She was headed down below.”

“Yeah, I can’t find her.”

“It’s pretty crazy in here. Maybe she’s waiting for you by the car?”

“Maybe. Thanks.” I start toward the gate. The crowd is thinning now and there’s a long line of cars waiting to get out of the parking lot. I cross the median to get to the student lot where Kenley’s car is among those left. I walk toward the Honda, eyes scanning the lot. A sinking feeling settles in my stomach. Something isn’t right.

“Ozzy!” I spin when I hear my name. Janice Hill crosses the parking lot. “Hey, have you seen Kenley?”

“I’m looking for her. I haven’t seen her since the fourth quarter.”

Two other figures walk our way. It’s Finn and Ezra. Changed out of their uniforms but it’s obvious they didn’t shower.

“Any word?” Finn asks.

I check my phone and shake my head.

“She called me,” Janice says. “She said she knew what caused the bruise on Jacqueline Cates’ face and sent me a picture.”

She holds up the phone. It’s a photo of a ring—the Thistle Cove State Championship ring. The number nineteen is on the side.

“That’s Chandler’s,” Ezra says.

“The message ended abruptly. I think maybe she got cut off.”

“Do you think she’s right?” Finn asks. “About the bruise?”

Janice holds up another photo. It’s a blown-up image of Jacqueline’s face. The bruise is obviously hard to see, but with context, it’s easy to make out the imprint of a triangle and indentions from the raised design. “She may not be wrong.”

“Chandler tried to warn me off of Kenley this afternoon,” Finn says. “We got the idea that maybe she said something to him.”

“She did,” a voice says. We all look up and see Juliette standing a few feet away. She’s still in her cheerleading uniform but her eyes are red, and she looks anything but happy. “She confronted my dad last night at my house.”

“He’s been at the game all night. It’s not like he could do anything to her,” I say.

Juliette takes a step forward. “Because my dad isn’t the one that she should be afraid of—it’s my mom.”

35

Kenley

I wake with a jerk, my body being flung forward, followed by a flash of light and a slam. I blink, acclimating myself, and see that I’m in a car. The seatbelt is holding me in place. I reach for the door, but it flings open. Monica Chandler stands in the dark, a small, dark gun in her hand.

“Mrs. Chandler?” I ask, reaching up, then realizing my hands are bound. My head throbs, and I remember falling in the parking lot. And being hit. By Monica.