Chelsea has been rifling around in Shane’s desk drawers for the last twenty minutes, but her search for a weapon is not going well.

“There’s nothing!” she declares. “He doesn’t even have a pair of scissors!”

I don’t know what to say. Even if Shane had a sharp pair of scissors in his drawer, I don’t know how I would feel about using them. I don’t think I’m capable of stabbing somebody with a pair of scissors.

“What about a pen?” she asks me. “There are a lot of those.”

I draw my knees to my chest, hugging them close to my body. “What are we supposed to do with a pen?”

“I don’t know. Poke him in the eye?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think I could poke somebody in the eye with a pen. Could you?”

She straightens up and turns to look at me. It’s so dark in the room that it’s hard to make out her expression. I only catch glimpses of her when there’s a flash of lightning. “I could if I had to. If it were Tim or me.”

She’s talking about it now like the whole thing is decided. Tim is the one who killed Brandon and Kayla. But I still can’t wrap my head around it. I know Tim too well. He couldn’t do something like that. Okay, maybe I wasn’t aware of his crush on me, but that’s different.

“I don’t think Tim killed them,” I say. “I don’t believe it.”

Chelsea plants her hands on her hips. “You have a serious blind spot when it comes to Tim. He isn’t as great a guy as you think he is.”

“Yes, he is.”

“Trust me—he isn’t.”

It sounds like she has something specific in mind, but I’m sure it’s something stupid. “Look, he’s not a killer.”

She lets out an exasperated sound. “Don’t you get it, Brooke? It had to be him. He’s the only one who had the opportunity. He was alone in the living room and he could’ve gone up and killed her. Nobody else had the chance to do it.”

I chew on my lower lip. My lips have gotten very chapped in the last couple of weeks, as the weather has turned. Licking them and biting them makes it worse, but I can’t help it.

“Actually,” I say, “one other person had a chance.”

“Who? Shane was outside. And nobody else is here. Who else had a chance?”

“You.” I try to pick out her features in the dark room, but all I can see are her dark eyes with leaked mascara. “You were alone in the living room when Tim and I were in the kitchen.”

Her jaw falls open. “Excuse me?”

“Well,” I say thoughtfully. “It does make sense. More sense than Tim or Shane randomly killing Brandon and Kayla. I mean, Brandon was cheating on you. A lot. And then Kayla was accusing you of killing him. It stands to reason—”

“Oh, this is good!” Chelsea sounds like she’s trying to be sarcastic, but there’s a slightly hysterical edge to her voice. “First my boyfriend is murdered and I have to find his dead body. And now you think I killed him, and apparently busted down Kayla’s door and did her in as well?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” I say carefully. “I’m just pointing out that you had an opportunity and a motive.”

She stands there for a moment, her silhouette completely still. “If I am the one who killed them, why am I bothering to look for a weapon? If I did it, that means I’ve got a knife stashed away somewhere, doesn’t it?”

“I… I guess so.”

“Damn straight.” She shakes her head. “I mean, you are seriously out of your mind if you think that I’m capable of killing two people.”

My stomach churns as a thought hits me. Tim was looking for the knife while Chelsea and I were in the house. He didn’t find it, but that was information he told to me alone. So how could she know the killer has a knife stashed away? Unless…

“I think we should go downstairs.” I scramble to my feet. “I want to make sure the guys are okay. And… I think it’s better if we’re all together.”

“Are you crazy? For all we know, Tim has already stabbed Shane to death, and he’s waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs!”

“No,” I say firmly. “He’s not.”

I’ve got to get out of this room. Now that Chelsea knows I’m onto her, I’m not safe here. I don’t want to end up like Brandon and Kayla—I can’t. I go over to the door and turn the knob, but the wall of books we built in front of it keeps it from opening.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Chelsea slips in front of me and puts her hand on the door, holding it closed. “Seriously, what are you doing? It’s not safe down there.”

“I want to go.” I kick some of the books away. “Let me go.”

“Brooke, you’re being crazy! You don’t seriously think I killed Brandon and Kayla, do you?”

“I don’t know.” I push a few more books out of my path. “I just need to get out of here. I have to use the bathroom.”

I try to reach for the doorknob again, but Chelsea is blocking it with her body. I raise my eyes to look at her round face, her black hair with the pale tips that I helped her bleach in the bathroom at her house, and her brown eyes that suddenly look like pools of blackness in the dim light of Shane’s bedroom.

“Chelsea,” I say firmly. “Step aside. Now.”

Her gaze zeroes in on my face. “No. You’re not leaving.”

Chelsea had been searching the room for a weapon, but she didn’t need to search. She had a knife on her all along. The same knife she used to kill Brandon and Kayla. The same knife she’ll use to kill me.

Except when I look down at her hands, they are empty. Where is the knife? Did she stash it somewhere?

“Chelsea…”

“You need to stay here, Brooke. You can’t leave.”

No, I’m not going to end up like Brandon and Kayla. If I can get past her and escape this room, Tim and Shane will help me. And I’ve got an advantage over the other two she’s killed—I know what she’s capable of. And I know from cheerleading practice what her weaknesses are.

I draw back my sneaker and kick her as hard as I can square in the shin, right where she always gets splints when we run. Chelsea crumbles to the floor, moaning as she clutches her leg. “You bitch!” she cries.

I grab the doorknob again and this time I’m able to get the door open a few inches. I say a little thanks for all the hours I spent keeping my weight down to fit into my cheerleading uniform, and I squeeze my body through the tiny gap between the door and the door frame.

“Brooke!” she shrieks.

I don’t turn around to watch Chelsea attempting to scramble back to her feet. There’s not much time, but I only need a few seconds’ head start. I sprint into the hallway, which is pitch black, and I feel around for the banister of the stairwell. I’ve got to get downstairs.

“Tim!” I call out. “Shane!” No answer.

It’s not a good sign. I had assumed the two of them would be downstairs in the living room, keeping an eye on each other, but the living room is dead silent. Nobody is down there.

I suddenly wonder if I have made a terrible mistake leaving the bedroom.

I pick my way down the stairs as quickly as I dare. I hear noises coming from Shane’s bedroom. “Brooke!” Chelsea calls out again, but her voice is muffled like she’s still in the bedroom. It’s strange—I hit her hard, but not that hard. She ought to be back on her feet by now and running down the stairs after me.

“Tim!” I call again, bordering on screaming now. “Shane!”

When I get to the foot of the stairs, I let out a yelp as I trip and go sprawling. Something was lying in my path, blocking me. Something soft.

Oh my God. It’s a body.

I squint down, trying to see who it is, but the living room is too dark. I lift my hands off the floor and there’s something sticky and wet coating my palms.

Blood.

Oh my God. Chelsea was right. Someone else was killed while Chelsea and I were hiding up in the bedroom. Chelsea was never trying to hurt me—she only wanted me to stay in the room so I wouldn’t end up like the others. I let out a choked sob, knowing I need to get back up and run but my body feels frozen.

And then the weight of a body crushes me, keeping me from getting back on my feet. And fingers grab the chain around my neck, pulling it

tight.