Pretty When She Cries - Black Mountain Academy

Everything inside me turns to ice when I flip over the photo and read the pretty, perfect handwriting.

I win, demon slut.Choking back the bitter taste on my lips, I return the photo to the box and haul it to Landon’s locker in a daze. The bell rings, and the hall floods with other people. Everything around me is spinning violently. Someone bumps me, and I look up at what I know will be my biggest heartbreak.

Landon Blackwood.

“Kail?” He reaches out to touch me, and I shrink away, shaking my head in warning.

I can’t even speak. There are no words. I throw the box at his feet and dart away.

He calls after me in frustration. “Kail, wait. Please.”

But I’m already gone.I didn’t go to my meeting with Mrs. Oaks. I just walked out the front door, got into my car, and drove away. Landon tried to call me. He left me voicemails and texts, but I couldn’t look at any of them.

I didn’t even know where I wanted to go. I just knew I couldn’t be there. I couldn’t think about him, and I couldn’t accept what I saw.

He lied to me.

You can’t deny a photograph. There are no excuses. No justification. He was with her in that bed. He told me I was the only one. The thought of Audrey carrying his baby makes me so violently ill, I pull over to vomit twice.

How could he do this to me?

In a daze, I navigate the winding mountain roads until I end up at Devil’s Bluff. This is the place people come to when they want to find some quiet during the day. On weekends, students from the surrounding schools show up in hordes, dragging in kegs and cases of liquor. They park their luxury vehicles along the edge of the gravel and stuff their pockets full of condoms and weed. They rage and dance and have sex, and when the sun comes up, they all disappear like it never even happened. If these canyons could talk, the stories they could tell would probably put us all to shame.

It’s beautiful and isolated here, which makes it the perfect place to hide out. The problem is, I’m not the only one hiding from something today. When I turn off the ignition, my eyes flick to the other car parked along the edge of the bluff. It’s like someone drove to the precipice and then thought better of tipping their vehicle over it.

The driver’s door is open like maybe they jumped out in a hurry. A shiver moves over me as I get out to examine the scene. It seems so ominous, but I’m sure it’s just a tourist who came up here to take some photographs. I read something once about the inordinate number of people who die every year trying to capture that perfect selfie. I hope the tourist didn’t tumble over the edge.

But that’s a ridiculous notion, right?

Except the longer I stare at the car, the more familiar it seems. It’s a silver Lexus convertible. I don’t pay a lot of attention to all the cars at school, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen that same car parked at BMA. The top is down even though it’s chilly, and the owner is nowhere in sight. It seems really strange, and I can’t let it go. What if someone really did fall over the edge?

I reach into my pocket and grab my canister of Mace. Maybe I’m using this as a distraction right now, but if someone really needs help, I can’t just leave. Where would I go, anyway? I know what’s waiting for me back at BMA, and I just can’t think about that right now.

It’s a long walk to the car. My feet drag against the gravel, and every once in a while, my ankle still gives a little twinge of pain. I welcome it for a change. It gives me something else to focus on.

When I reach the Lexus, I hang back a little at first, cautiously walking around to examine it. There’s nobody inside. No corpse on the back seat. But there is a BMA blazer sitting on the passenger seat.

Sweat prickles my skin as I edge along the cliff and peek over. The drop is so steep and high, I can’t even see what’s down there. If someone did fall, they would not have survived.

I’m trying to figure out what to do when I hear the softest of sobs coming from the clump of trees to my left. Convinced I’m hallucinating now, I stall my breath and fall perfectly still, but the quiet sob erupts again, followed by a sniffle.

I reach for my phone, fingers hovering over the screen. I think I should call for help, but what would I even say? Someone is crying in a clump of trees up at Devil’s Bluff. No, I need more information first. I need to go see for myself. But what if it’s a trap?