Chapter 1 -Abby-
-Two Years Earlier-
Jordan and Kaylee are draped over the railing at the mall, the biggest one in Daphne, peering down at the food court below. Daphne isn’t Los Angeles—we all know that—but none of us have ever really needed it to be. We’re popular at school, the three of us, and we’ve spent enough Friday afternoons here to know every store, even if we were blindfolded. Mobile is forty minutes south for when we want something louder, but mostly Daphne is all we’ve ever known or needed.
I’m the one in the cheer uniform, hoarse from shouting into the megaphone, and Kyle’s the one they’re all screaming for under those Friday night lights. You know the couple—the kind teachers nod at in the hallways, the kind freshmen gawk at from a safe distance. Kyle never seems to mind that my daddy’s the reason he’s driving that cherry-red convertible, or that I hold all the authority.
Daddy works in a quiet government office in D.C.—something no one questions—because of that, my credit card never gets declined. Mom’s rarely home, as she’s always in some conference room three states away. Usually, it’s just me or me with the girls.
My parents think I’m a goodie two-shoes, but Kyle knows the truth. He was the one in the back of his truck after homecoming freshman year—the smell of freshly cut grass and cheap beer, his letterman jacket rough under my fingers. It wasn’t some grand romance, just something to do in a town where Friday nights either ended at the Waffle House or in someone’s backseat. If you wanted to stay at the top, you played the part.
“Hey,” Jordan says, not looking away from the food court below. “Should we go to Mobile tonight?”
Kaylee’s laugh bounces off the railing. “Can’t. Matt’s being all mysterious about tonight.”
I shake my head. “Can’t. My mom’s flying in tonight.”
“Party poopers,” Jordan sighs, leaning her weight into the railing until the metal creaks in protest.
“Oh, please. You know you want to get railed by Travis in the back of his dad’s Chevy.” I chuckle, leaning my hip against the cool railing. “Don’t even try to deny it.”
Jordan glares at me. “I literally hate you,” she says, but she’s already smiling, turning back to the railing. “He did follow me on Instagram last night, for what it’s worth.”
Jordan’s been trying for weeks to get Travis to notice her, but he’s been all about that new girl from California. He’ll come around the second he figures out she bats for the other team.
Our laughing is interrupted by the tinny blare of my ringtone. “Hold on,” I say, digging past my lip gloss and keys in my Coach purse. The screen glows with DAD. I step away from the railing, toward a potted fern. “Hey, Daddy.”
“Hey, baby girl,” he says, the words frayed and thin through the static. “You heard from your mother?”
“No, not since last night.” The phone feels suddenly heavy in my hand. “She said she was coming home tonight. Why? Is everything alright?”
The line crackles, a sound like frying bacon. I think he’s gone. Then his voice cuts back through, strained. “Yes, everything is fine.” A beat of silence, filled only by that awful static. “She’s just not answering.” Another pause, longer this time. I can almost hear him choosing his words. “Baby girl, promise me you’ll stay in tonight.”
My brows narrow. “Um, I had plans with Kyle.”
“Abigail Turner.” The static swells between us. “Stay in tonight. That’s not a request.” Something in his voice makes me turn away from the girls.
“Okay,” I say. “But what’s—” The crackling sound intensifies, and then the line cuts out suddenly.
I shake my head and rejoin the girls, thinking nothing of it. We kill another two hours drifting through the food court before finally heading for the parking lot. That’s when the screaming starts—not shouts, but raw, animal cries that echo off the vaulted ceiling. The crowd surges toward the exits in a blind crush, a human stampede. I snatch Jordan and Kaylee by their wrists and yank us all into the narrow hallway leading to the restrooms just as the tide of bodies smashes past.
“What the hell?!” Jordan’s voice comes out high and strange. She’s got both hands pressed to her sternum like she’s trying to keep her heart from leaving her body.
“I don’t know, but something is off,” I say, my voice low. “We need to get out of here.” I peer back out at the crush of bodies—a solid wall of panic shoving toward the doors. “There’s no way through that. We have to find another exit.”
I drag the girls away from the crowd, cutting toward the back of the cinema hallway where the emergency exit glows red at the far end—except there’s a man already there, swaying in the middle of the corridor. His eyes have rolled back to almost nothing, just a rim of iris floating in white. Foam has collected at the corners of his mouth. His head swings between the three of us, slow and considering. Then his knees bend. I get my hands on both girls and push hard, and we’re running before I’ve decided to run. Jordan’s shoulder hits the exit bar, and the alarm splits the air like something fierce. We spill out into the parking lot, and every face turns toward us, but none of those faces are the ones I want looking at us.
“Shit,” I breathe.
