KIMBRA

Kimbra was so surprised by her father’s message she forgot to slip her phone back into the top of her cheerleader’s uniform. She stood, stiff and silent, as the Bison team burst through a panel of painted paper spread across the cafeteria’s exit and the other cheerleaders screamed and the band played and the students lining the hallway shouted themselves hoarse. The Bison Stampede, another ancient ritual for the Perlin game, and Kimbra had forgotten how to cheer.

She, Dashandre and April had been stationed by the doors of the cafeteria, meaning that by the time the Bison’s starting line had reached the gym at the other end of the school the three of them were still stuck clapping for the backbenchers whose names people barely remembered. This would have bothered Kimbra enormously last year, back when she still cared about this school and this town, back before her boyfriend started keeping Real Secrets from her and she had Real Life Problems. Now she was too preoccupied. Her father’s message was just the latest strange turn in a day that had already made her tipsy with unease.

Even knowing that KT had been returned home, Kimbra had awoken this morning desperate to know what it was the boy had been hiding from her all this time. She had been eager to help Joel Whitley, certain—for reasons she couldn’t quite define—that these Bright Lands he’d asked about were the key to the great mystery that had grown up around her.

Yet Whiskey and T-Bay, so helpful yesterday, had ignored her after first period. A few of the girls on the squad had shrugged when Kimbra had murmured a simple question—“Have you ever heard of some place some of the boys go? Somewhere they don’t talk about?”—and given her blank looks that she took to be genuine.

Despite all her care and discretion, Garrett Mason had caught her eye in biology, had brought a bruised finger to his lips without a word. Shh.

Then, at lunch, KT had texted, his first message to her since last Friday, and all he wrote was lets leave now. She hadn’t responded, even when he’d started blowing up her phone.

And now here was this odd message from her father. He always went quail hunting on the weekends, leaving town after the game so he could be at her uncle Jarvis’s house outside Sprickstown in time to sleep and still be up well before dawn, when the quail started to rouse. Yet today he had apparently decided to miss the game altogether.

Her father never missed a game.

Something bad is going on

“Yo, K-K-Kimbra. You got a second?”

It was Benny Garcia, the backbencher’s backbencher, standing like a dwarf in his oversize pads and fussing with his gloves. The opening bars of the pep rally’s warm-up number were already echoing from the gym.

“What is it?” Kimbra said.

Benny only nodded at the empty cafeteria. She studied his big green eyes through the grill of his helmet. He looked like he had something important to tell her.

She made a motion for Dashandre and April to go on to the gym without her, followed Benny through the scraps of paper that still hung from the cafeteria’s doorway. Information—like money—was irresistible to her.

“Has your d-d-dad s-said anything about it this w-week?” Benny said.

“About quail hunting?”

“N-n-no. Ab-b-bout the B-B-Bright Lands.” When B-B-Benny tried to whisper, spittle flew from his lips, clung to the bars of his helmet’s grill. “G-Garrett said if I t-told the c-cops Jamal wanted a c-c-condom at the game then they’d t-t-take me there tonight.”

Kimbra struggled to see what this had to do with her father. Nothing, she insisted. Nothing. “So?”

“They’re t-t-taking Luke! Luke!” Benny pointed down the empty hallway. “B-But I h-heard it was your d-d-dad runs that p-party. He m-must have t-told you wh-where t-to find it, right?”

Down the hall the pep rally’s warm-up number repeated: they were waiting for her.

Kimbra hardly heard it. She didn’t care. Suddenly she didn’t care about much of anything.

Benny took an anxious step away from her, another. “F-forget I said it,” he said, and jogged down the hall.

Go. Go now.

Don’t think. Don’t ask.

“Don’t let those guys fuck you up.”

Something bad is going on

Heading 2 uncle jarvis’s house early

Go.

She didn’t bother to change out of her cheer uniform. She took off down the hall, pulled loose her phone, texted KT:

Let’s do it.

u mean now?

now.

u ok?

you want to do this or not?

A pause. He wrote:

Gimme 30 min. i gotta say bye 2 mommers.

I’ll get the money.

She reached her locker, pulled out her backpack and gym bag, looked for anything she might need. She grabbed an extra lip balm. A pack of gum. She would ask KT everything when they were safely across the county line, she told herself. Maybe when they hit New Mexico. Maybe never.

She shut her locker and saw Bethany Tanner standing a few feet away, watching her with an ugly mix of anger and concern. Sweet fuck, the girl looked so exhausted even the sequins of her singlet seemed to have dulled. Bethany had spent every minute since her loud confession in the parking lot yesterday morning doing her best to preserve her reputation. Considering the fact she was walking the halls alone, without Jasmine, her trusty sidekick, Kimbra suspected Bethany’s efforts hadn’t been successful. Things at the top of the pyramid didn’t look good.

“We’re waiting for you,” Bethany said.

Kimbra tossed her lock into her bag. “I’m leaving.”

“Leaving?” Bethany took a step forward. “You can’t leave. This is the biggest day of the fucking season.”

“Watch me.”

Kimbra didn’t have time for Bethany anymore. If she wanted to dance and cheer while boys were getting killed and running away and telling lies about her father then Bethany could—

She grabbed Kimbra’s arm.

“You have a job to do.”

Jesus Christ. Kimbra dropped her bag and brought her heel down on Bethany’s foot, twisted when the girl squealed and tossed her into a locker. The metal boomed through the empty hall. Bethany released her.

It was almost satisfying—Kimbra had wanted to give Bethany Tanner a nice shiner for years. She took a quick step away, out of Bethany’s reach, but Tanner made no move to grab her again. The girl only stared at Kimbra, rubbed the back of her head. For the first time in her life, Kimbra saw Bethany on the verge of tears.

B-B-Benny spoke briefly in her mind. Fine. Kimbra would be a good person. “If you want to be useful for once in your life, tell Luke Evers not to go tonight, wherever he’s going,” she told Bethany. “Tell him it’s dangerous.”

And with that, Kimbra turned on her heel and strode away. For once, finally, she had had the last word.