"Oz, I need your help."
For the first time in my life, I was stunned silent.
I honestly had no idea what I was supposed to say to her. Hey, Macy, you've been missing for a week now, and everyone is freaking out—how are ya? You good? What's the weather like where you are? And, where exactly are you, you little monster?
I cleared my throat. "What can I do for you?"
Macy laughed shortly. "I know—I can't believe I'm calling you, either."
The "you" in that sentence was stressed, like, out of all the people in the world, I called you.
I went straight from feeling important to irritated in a second. "Alright, then. Why are you calling me?"
Macy sighed. "So much for having a pleasant conversation with an old friend, huh?"
"What do you want?" I asked, my chest pinching. I cast a nervous glance over my shoulder to make sure that no one had entered the house—or my room—while I wasn't paying attention. The last thing I needed was someone to catch me on the phone with Macy Stinson.
I didn't miss the irony of the moment. I'd been trying to convince everyone that I didn't know where Macy was for the past week, and now here she was, calling me.
"I told you," Macy grumbled. "I need your help."
"I got that," I ground out. What was wrong with this girl? "I meant what do you need my help with?" I paused, considering. "Also, where the fuck have you been?"
Macy didn't reply right away. I could hear a shuffling sound in the background.
"Well," she finally answered after what felt like an hour. "I can't tell you where I've been. That's a secret. But I think if you thought hard enough about it, you'd figure it out."
"Really, you're going to be coy? Fine," I snapped. "Then tell me where you are right now."
"Please refer to my earlier statement."
"Are you being serious right now? Am I getting Punk'd?" I glanced around my room. It didn't appear that there were any hidden cameras, but what did I know?
"Why would you think that?" Macy asked. Through the phone, I heard her groan. There was a clattering sound and then she grunted loudly. "Shit."
"Because you're missing, and everyone thinks I've got something to do with it, and now you're calling me like it's no big deal. It's just...weird." That was the understatement of the century.
"I don't have time to talk about all that. I told you before—I need your help."
"You know you're missing, right? Like police interrogation and national news coverage missing?"
"Seriously, Oz, can we focus for a second here?"
I sighed heavily. "Alright, I get it. What do you need my help with? And how many times am I going to have to ask before you actually answer me?"
Instead of answering my question—for some silly reason, I wasn't exactly surprised by this—she asked, "Have you noticed anything weird lately?"
"Um, besides an apparently missing girl being on the phone with me? No, not really."
"Oz," she snipped. "Please think about it for a second."
"Fine," I huffed.
If you didn't count the fact that I'd been accused of murdering a girl that was very clearly alive, my life was normal. Except...
"This is going to sound crazy, but I swear someone was taking pictures of me outside my house a few days ago."
"Really," Macy said in a flat voice. "Taking pictures of you?"
"I'm getting the feeling that you already knew that, though," I replied.
"It was a lucky guess," she said dryly. "I could lie and tell you that I'm psychic, but I don't think you're stupid enough to believe me."
"That's true," I agreed. "I'm not Gretchen."
In a surprising twist, instead of being offended, Macy snorted. "Clever."
"I know I am. Now tell me what the hell is going on."
"I'll be straight up with you—as long as you promise not to freak out."
"Have you ever known me to freak out?"
"Um..." Macy hesitated. "I don't think there's a way to answer that without offending you."
I sighed. I didn't think I was known for being dramatic, but I was the daughter of two lawyers—arguing was in my blood. Well, maybe not my blood, but definitely my personality. "I get it, I get it. I won't freak out, okay?"
Macy was quiet for a moment. "Promise you won't hang up on me, either?"
"Why would I hang up on you?"
"Because I can't tell you everything right now."
I hesitated but finally relented. "Alright. I promise not to freak out or hang up. Any more requests, Your Highness?"
"Nope, I think I covered all the bases."
"Okay. Lay it on me."
"Give me a minute," she said. "This is kinda hard."
"Fine."
I could see her almost perfectly in my mind: the way she would be twisting a curly, red strand of hair around her finger. Her eyes, bright, as they flickered around to take in her surroundings—paranoid, as always.
When we were younger, she used to make me double check all the doors and windows with her before we went to sleep. She was constantly looking over her shoulder as if death was going to come beating down her door.
"I think someone's trying to kill me."
"What?" I said incredulously.
"I found something out, Oz—something that could ruin a lot of lives. I got drunk on Saturday, and I threatened someone with what I know, and now I'm like ninety percent sure he's going to kill me."
"Who?" I whispered.
Macy cleared her throat. "I can't tell you that just yet. You have to wait."
"What? You want me to wait?"
"Just until tonight. I need you to meet me at our place at midnight."
"Um...yeah, yes, of course." I paused. "Look, I don't want to sound like a bitch or anything, but why did you call me, of all people?"
"Truth?" She asked. "What I found out has a lot to do with you, Oz."
Yeah, like that wasn't terrifying. "Why can't you just tell me now?"
"It's too dangerous to do this over the phone. I need to see you face to face. Do you still remember where our place is?"
"Of course." Like I could forget.
A beeping sound filled the line, and I had a horrible feeling that I knew what was coming next. "Macy—"
"I'm sorry," she interrupted. "I'm getting another call. I'll explain everything tonight, I swear. Just promise you'll meet me."
I exhaled shakily. "I promise."
"Alright..." I could tell she was getting ready to hang up. "Oh, and, Oz? One last thing."
"Yeah?"
"Please stay safe."
She hung up before I could reply.
Five minutes later, I was still sitting in the exact same position.
Had I really just talked to Macy Stinson? I'd definitely had enough nightmares in the past week to know what it felt like to be trapped in a dream, and I didn't think this was one of those instances. But still, it felt so surreal. I couldn't possibly have just had the conversation I thought I did, right? Maybe I was hallucinating. Maybe I was daydreaming.
I reached down and pinched the skin on my arm. Ouch. Yeah, I was definitely awake.
So, only one thing was for certain: I wasn't dreaming.
I wasn't sure if I was more relieved or upset by that.
My phone beeped, pulling me out of my thoughts. I picked it up, assuming it was Macy again, but was surprised to see I'd gotten a text from an unknown number.
I stared at my phone blankly. It took a moment for the message to make sense.
YOU WOULDN'T BE THE FIRST TO FOLLOW THE YELLOW BRICK ROAD INTO THE FOREST AND GET LOST, DOROTHY.
BE CAREFUL.
Chills ran up and down my spine. What the hell was that?
I leaped off my bed and ran over to my window. I needed some air; I felt like I was suffocating.
I threw open my window and leaned out, drawing in as much fresh air as I could.
When I looked down, I noticed something odd. Lucca was leaning against the front bumper of his car. Nicky was nowhere to be seen, despite Lucca's statement about needing to talk to him.
But what made me pause was the look on Lucca's face. I'd never seen him look so...furious before.
I opened my mouth to call out to him but stopped when he brought the phone up to his ear.
"Look, I don't want to fight with you anymore." He sighed. "Just promise you'll keep your mouth shut, okay? I don't want you ruining my relationship with Oz over something so stupid."
There was a pause as the other person replied. When Lucca spoke again, his voice was low. "Fuck you. You don't understand anything at all. You don't know me, and you definitely don't know Oz. Just stay out of it, alright? Or I will take care of this, once and for all."
Lucca swore as he shoved his phone into his pocket and pushed away from his car. He glanced up as he reached the driver side door.
Panicked for reasons I couldn't explain, I yanked myself back inside the window and pressed myself against the wall. I couldn't see Lucca anymore, but after a moment, I heard his car door slam shut.
I didn't dare move from the wall until I'd heard him sharply take the turn at the end of my street and I had counted to twenty for good measure.
When I stepped toward the window, I was totally alone.
d