- AHMED -

I stood next to Irina, and the two of us watched as Sam and Steven backed out of the driveway. As the air whistled icily, I threw Irina an uncertain look.

"Do you think they'll be okay?"

She unfolded her arms. "If I'm being honest, Ahmed, I have no idea. I just hope they don't do anything stupid. Whoever's stalking us is out for blood."

I lowered my eyes. "Irina, come on..."

"What, Ahmed? It's the truth."

"Yeah, I know. It's just...you seem different, Irina. Did something happen, or—?"

"I'm fine. I'm just...mad—and scared. Scared for me, and for you...for Sam..."

I sighed. "You didn't sound too scared for him five minutes ago—"

"Do not start with me," she trilled. "I've been nothing but concerned for him. He's the one who screamed at me and wouldn't answer my calls for weeks."

"But he was scared, Irina, and you know that. Plus, all the stuff he knows about Lane might just help us find her."

"If she's even alive."

"Sam seemed to think she was—and as crazy as it is, it really does make sense."

Irina paused, sniffled lightly.

"Irina, are you oka—"

"Yes, Ahmed!" she trilled again. "I told you I'm fine!" She reached inside her purse, lifted her keys. "Let's just do this already. If we hurry, we might still be able to catch my mom at Chadwick's."

I trudged outside behind her to her car, tucking my head between my shoulders and keeping in step as I followed.

She pressed her key fob. The lights flashed, and the doors unlocked.

I opened the passenger seat and slid inside, just as Irina took the wheel.

"Want me to turn on the heat?" she asked once we were situated, her hand gliding to the air conditioner. "Are you cold?"

No, but you're being pretty icy right now. I shook my head. "I'm okay."

When I looked up from the floor, watched Irina's hand trace from the AC back to the steering wheel, I saw that same bright glint I'd noticed a few weeks ago—the glimmer of pale light reflected by a single blond strand.

I was still, silent, biting back the one question now scratching at my brain.

I glanced out the passenger window, did my best to avert my attention.

Green leaves turned black by the night hung over the road as we drove, passing by in a blur. In moments, we were almost to the edge of the subdivision, to the stop light suspended in the cool air. The bright lamp posts on either side of the approaching archway exit grew closer and closer until—

Huh?

Beyond the traffic light and to the right, blue and white flashed on the side of the road, followed shortly by the familiar whirr of police car sirens.

"...Um...Irina—?"

The tires screeched beneath us, Irina's car scraping to a halt.

"It's a stop point," she breathed. "The cops—they must be checking everyone leaving the neighborhood." She reached forward, clicked off her lights. "Ahmed, put your head down."

"What, wh—?"

"Now!"

I ducked, covered my head with my hands as the car kicked into reverse before turning sideways and bolting off.

"Irina, what the heck!?" I screamed, jarred.

"We can't let them see us," she growled. "Remember what Prudence said."

I nodded slowly, still shielding either side of my face with my arms.

"We'll have to go out the back...assuming they haven't blocked it off already."

Irina zipped by tall, dimly lit homes and the trees springing up to separate them. Glass windows and street lights blurred past.

"There," Irina piped up as we neared another neighborhood exit, this one crowded with tinier foliage but overhung by no traffic signals. "It's still open." In seconds, we tore onto the main road as Irina whipped right, the screech of tires scraping the air.

Once we'd fully made it out on the road and crossed several lanes, Irina finally let out a sigh. Periodic dots of light from passing homes were replaced by the intermittent shimmer of fast-food restaurant signs flickering in the distance—their glow illuminating once more that same strip of blond clinging to the dashboard.

I shifted uncomfortably. "Irina..." I tried, "There's...can I ask you a question?"

She exhaled. "What is it?"

"Are you...I mean..." I stammered, felt my lips shaking. "Who's hair is this?" I reached out and secured the blond strand on the dashboard between my index finger and thumb. Trying to lift it, I discovered for the first time that it was adhered with the tiniest strip of invisible tape. "What the—?"

"Don't," she breathed, "Don't touch that."

"Wha—Irina, why th—?"

"It's..." her voice began to crack. "I can't...I can't do this." She swerved to the right, slowed the car to a stop on the side of the road.

"Can't do what? Irina, what's going on?"

She was silent at first, then began to sniffle. Isolated teardrops fell moments later.

"Irina," I gulped, "tell me the truth—are you...the person who attacked Steven?"

She sniffled again. "No," she shook her head. "But I think I've met her before."

"Met her? Met her where?"

Irina raised her arm to swipe at her eyes. "It was some fancy hotel, some stupid event that Steven dragged me to..."

"Steven? Why would—?"

"Ahmed, it's a long story..." she sniffled, more teardrops falling.

I paused. "Okay," I tried. "Okay, you don't have to tell me...I just—please. If you know something about what's happening..."

"Steven and I used to date," she blurted. "We were freshmen, he played basketball, and we were that couple." She drew a long breath. "And there was some church conference. Steven's dad billed it as a chance for growth and spirituality, and my mom said it'd be a 'wonderful opportunity.' But it was just some name game for rich pastors and their kids to mingle and play nice. And for Steven, that meant bringing his girlfriend to the fancy conference hotel and showing her off to every wandering eye."

I gulped.

"We were in ninth grade, Ahmed. But those boys were pervs...and Steven was the worst. The conference was four days—but between the dirty stares and snickers behind my back, it felt like an eternity. I kept telling Steven I just wanted to go home, but he wouldn't let me. He couldn't let down his dad, his mom, his brother...they were all there. And to all the other self-righteous snobs scurrying about, I was just a cute little ornament on the Hall family Christmas tree." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "We were so Christ-like, they all said—we were somehow doing God's work by existing, by looking like some flawless American couple..." She shook her head, shut her eyes.

"Irina..." I reached to rest my hand on top of hers, but she drew away.

"But it was all fake. They called it a meeting of worship, but God wasn't in any of it. It was about them—their families, their children, and no one else. And even that wasn't enough for Steven."

I hesitated. "W...what do you mean?"

"He—he..." Irina shivered, her voice tremoring with pause. "The last night of the conference, there was this...send off. The most influential pastors were recognized for everything they'd done, and so were their families. Steven stood on that stage, smiling the widest he ever had, as everyone in the crowd blasted his family with praise. The Halls could do no wrong...and Steven took that message literally.

"After the ceremony, he took me upstairs. He said he just needed to 'grab something' and wanted me to come with him. I was so suspicious, but I went. And when we got to the room, he started trying to take off my clothes. I fought back, but he threw me on the bed." She started sniffling. "I remember my head hitting the bed frame. I remember hands reaching under my dress and between my legs. I remember being horrified—the most afraid I've ever been..."

Irina paused, drew another breath. "But then, then it all just stopped. I heard Steven scream, and I heard glass break. Then I felt a hand grab my arm and pull me from the bed. I was dazed, I was seeing stars, and I could feel my body shaking; but the girl, the one who pulled me—she told me to keep running. She held me steady, made sure I didn't fall down.

"Eventually, I heard a door click open. The girl pulled me inside, and I got a glimpse of her for the first time, except...not really."

I paused. "What do you mean?"

"It was dark. I could barely see anything. And she wouldn't turn on the lights. She said I shouldn't see her." More tears fell. "I thought...I thought I was in some kind of trouble or—or worse..."

I gulped hard. "And you think that might've been Lane?"

"I don't know!" Irina screamed back. "I have no idea who it was, but...she said something else. She said Marcus Hall was a liar, a cruel and manipulative liar. And she promised she would make everything...better. She told me to leave the room, leave the hotel. She'd called a cab, and it was waiting outside for me. But the weird thing is...Ahmed, I didn't want to leave."

"What?" I gasped.

"I can't explain it...but sitting there, I almost felt like—like I knew this girl."

I sighed. "...Like she was your sister."

Irina nodded in silence. "But it wasn't GiGi. She's been in Molding the Way all this time. It couldn't have been her."

I felt air getting trapped in my throat. I had so many questions, so many things I wanted to say but somehow couldn't.

"But I did leave. I left eventually. I thanked the girl, I took the cab, and I didn't look back. I didn't even call Steven to tell him things were over. I made up some story when my mom asked about why I was home from the event early. But when I went up to my room, there was this...hair, inside a clear plastic box. And a note was on it. It said something like, Love, Your Big Sister—Ahmed, it was so weird. And back then, I had no idea about GiGi. I was freaked out...but I never told anyone."

"Irina, this doesn't make any sense," I started. "If you were so freaked out, why'd you keep the hair?"

"I didn't!" she screeched. "I tossed it, and I never told my mom. But a few months ago, I found another strand in a plastic box...on the front seat of my car." She reached to the glove box in front of me and unlatched it, then retrieved a folded note. "And this was taped to the box."

I won't let them get away with it, I promise I won't.

An icy chill scraped down my back.

"It's her," Irina whispered. "I know this is the girl who saved me. So...I kept it; I kept the hair. And besides you, no one's ever even noticed it was there."

"Well, it—that could be Lane..."

"I know," Irina replied evenly. "But I've been thinking a lot lately. This hair's...I almost feel like it makes me stronger just being there. I don't know, but...if it is—if Lane really is the girl who saved me...I'm not sure I want to help the cops find her."

I froze. "What!?"

"Ahmed..."

"Irina, do you hear yourself? This girl murdered people!"

"Yeah, well, the more I find out about these 'people,' the less I think they didn't deserve it...Glenn Clather singlehandedly raped and widowed Charity, and we know how awful Caroline was!"

"Awful enough to murder, Irina? What the heck are you even saying? Since when is it our job to decide who deserves to live or die!?"

Irina tilted her head evenly. "Ask Glenn Clather."

"Irina, you can't be serious. I mean, yeah, Glenn was horrible...but he deserved to face justice for what he did..."

"He did face justice, Ahmed."

"And what about Steven? What about Sam? What if they find Lane and she kills them both?"

"She wouldn't do that! She cared about Sam! She had to have cared about him! She kept his secret, and we were all friends, and...we loved each other!" Irina screamed. "Ahmed, if this is really Lane, I have to believe she cared about Sam as much as she must've cared about me."

"You keep saying that, but what if it's not really Lane? Or what if it is, but she's completely lost it? Maybe she wouldn't kill Sam, or maybe she would! But what about Steven? What about all the other people she's buried!?"

Irina winced, drew back at my rage.

I exhaled, trying to level. "It doesn't matter who she is or why she's killing people—you know we have to stop her..."

Irina was silent.

"Irina, please," I begged. "Please."

She swallowed hard, then returned her eyes to the road. In another second, the engine roared to life. Irina swerved back onto the highway, her eyes refusing to look back at me as I kept mine fixed on her.

More police sirens began their high pitch somewhere nearby.

"Irina," I tried again. "I'm serious. We have to—"

"I hear you, Ahmed," she fired. "Look, just chill for a second, okay? We still don't even know where we're going."

"Um, what about Chadwick's?" I retorted. "That sounded like a pretty solid plan to m—"

"You see that?" Irina cut me off, pointing ahead singly with her index finger.

For the first time, I noticed more flashing blue and white lights—they were just up ahead, blinking at the nearest exit linking our road to the interstate.

"That exit's the only way to make it to Chadwick's, and it's blocked." Irina stopped the car, then gave a sigh. "Now if you're done patronizing me, I think we'd better get back to—"

"Wait," I cut in sheepishly. "Irina...I'm sorry. Look, I know this is really hard for you. It's hard for everyone, but...what happened to GiGi wasn't right. And I know you're mad. You have every right to be, just..."

A teardrop streaked down Irina's cheek as she kept her gaze stonely forward, leaned her foot against the accelerator to begin driving again.

"I'm really scared, Irina...and I know you must be too. But please—"

She lowered her head slightly, but her eyes didn't stray from the road ahead. She pulled as far left as possible, avoiding the only exit to Chadwick's and the police cars positioned there.

We kept driving, the night seeming to fall darker and deeper the further we pressed. Slowly, dimly, beyond the dark fingers of tree branches and the wispy blackness, the light of rooms behind glass started to glow.

I glanced out the passenger window, stared at the building coming up ahead. "Molding the Way," I whispered.

Irina turned briefly as we came to it, content at first to keep driving. But then she stopped, gasped.

"Irina, what is it?"

"Th-that's..." her voice began shaking. "That's my mom."