Haley waved a hand dismissively in my direction while she tapped out a text one-handed, sending the incriminating photo off to whoever was running this assignment.
“Now what?” I needed more details about the process.
“Now nothing. Our part is done. That’s all we had to do. The team running point on this one will make sure the photo makes it back to Chase’s girlfriend. From there, it should be smooth sailing.”
For everyone but Chase, I thought.
“This is for you.” Haley handed me a cell phone. It was a compact smartphone, but certainly nothing to write home about.
“Er...thanks?”
“It’s your burner. There should be zero Red Court communication on your other phone. There’s no such thing as privacy on a phone you don’t pay for. This one has my number in it. It’s how you and I will stay in touch.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed, understanding her meaning.
I opened the contacts tab and saw a phone number, Haley’s, and another contact labeled “Fire Alarm.”
“What’s this ‘fire alarm’?”
“If you ever get in trouble, get caught, or find yourself cornered by someone who thinks they know what’s going on, text that number with your location. It’s our fail-safe, but you only get to use it once and only when there is no other option. There is no pseudo-emergency. If you pull the fire alarm, help will come, but you better need it.”
Haley made the whole thing seem so dire. I could only bob my head in response and whisper, “Got it.” And then because I couldn’t stop myself, I asked, “What happens if you pull it twice?”
“Whatever happens, you face alone. We don’t know you and you don’t know us. Better get moving.” Haley gave me another shove, this time into the growing mass of students in the hallway. “And, Ember,” she said, “welcome to the Red Court.”
CHAPTER 5
I RACED HOME in my Jetta, which was certainly not my MO for driving. My license was only a couple of weeks old, and I was a speed-limit-is-my-friend kind of girl on any other day, but today was special. All the pent-up adrenaline from receiving my playing card, to meeting Haley, to being part of my first assignment, coursed through my veins. The Red Court was exhilarating. It was hard to admit, even to myself, but I buzzed with genuine excitement. I was a part of something now that made my pulse race like no track meet or debate tournament could. These were high-stakes games, and I wanted all in.
I pulled up to our house, a cookie-cutter copy of our neighbors’, and ran to the door. Fall in Colorado had turned from seasonal and pleasant to chilly and unforgiving quickly this year. Shutting the door against the wind and rustling leaves, I called out a quick greeting to see if either of my parents were home early from work. Met by silence, I made my way down the hall to my sister’s room.
“April!” I shouted as I entered.
“Yes?” She didn’t look up from her laptop.
April’s brow was furrowed in concentration as she worked on the midterm for her psychology course. She was a single point of focus amid the chaotic stacks of papers and textbooks surrounding her. If you asked her, she’d know precisely what was in each stack.
After her accident, April elected to change her college enrollment to online from on-campus so she could work as a volunteer coordinator at her physical therapy center. April’s mind for details was the perfect fit for the role, but I worried that she was driving herself into the ground. Between her classes, rehab schedule, and full-time job, it wasn’t unusual for her to work late into the night. The dark smudges beneath her eyes worried me.
“I’m in,” I said. I felt my chin lift in a moment of pride.
April’s head snapped up from her work. “What?”
“I’m in,” I repeated. “The Red Court. I’m officially a member.”
April ran a hand through her cropped hair. We had similar petite frames and the same fair skin and hazel eyes, but her hair was lighter, like our mom’s. Her mouth parted to speak, but she didn’t say anything. I wanted her to be excited for me, but I knew better than to expect it.
April had more reasons than anyone to want the Red Court destroyed, but she didn’t carry the same anger I did. She’d moved on, past the pain and the prognosis that her chances of walking again were slim to none. She’d found her place along the new path she’d forged for herself. It was me who couldn’t forgive, couldn’t forget that the Queen of Hearts was out there planning to hurt someone else’s sister.
A fresh pang of shame shot through me for my earlier thrill at being named a member of the Red Court. My resolve strengthened. I was going to find the Queen of Hearts and blackmail her into submission. Her remaining days of running Hell High were few.
“Part of me was hoping you wouldn’t get in,” April whispered.
A small stab pierced my heart. Did she not have any faith in me?
“Ember, you’re so talented. I hate that you’re investing your time in this. You could do so much better, give your time to something so much more worthwhile. And I know you don’t want to hear it again, but you could get hurt.” There was a hint of regret buried beneath the sweetness of her voice. I was her little sister; she was concerned for me, like any big sister would be.
I grasped her hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’m not missing out on anything.” Maybe it was the desperation for her approval I was wearing like a second skin, but her face softened.
“I’m proud of you for wanting to change things. What the Red Court does to people is terrible. I only wish that I had done something about it earlier. If I’d been less focused on myself a few years ago, I might have been able to put a stop to them myself.” April gave me a sad smile. My chest contracted in response. It was everything I needed to see to know I was doing the right thing.
“You could never be selfish.”
Unlike me.
My selfish need for revenge was what had fueled me through my exhaustion during finals and pushed me to run for captain of the debate team. It was basically my own renewable energy source, which was good because I would need it now more than ever.
“You’d be surprised.” April loosed a small, reluctant laugh before sobering. “You don’t have to do this for me. You know that, right? I’m not waiting for the Red Court to end to get on with my life.”
Though she seemed tired like usual, April’s features lacked the restlessness I knew I radiated. Maybe she was truly happy, but something in my mind refused to quiet. It was like a record skipping across the same thought and had been every day since I learned about the secret society that hurt April. The Red Court still existed, independent of my sister and what happened to her. She was only one person they hurt. If it didn’t stop, there would be more.