Anticipation tingles through my fingertips. For one thing, it's darker than we anticipated for five o'clock on Saturday afternoon. Rain drizzles down from the sky, and a gray fog clouds the air, making it difficult to see.

"Almost there," Pierce says. He's behind the wheel of the car while I sit in the front seat. Zoe's in the back, crouching down on the ground with her phone clutched in her hands, ready to call 911 at any moment even though we haven't even arrived on the scene yet.

The car turns off the road and onto a side road, taking us to the park. Tons of bushes and overgrown trees lurk in the surroundings. Nerves prickle up my spine. Could Brooklyn or Brian be here already?

Using Adrian as a sounding board, she texted the whole school that Pierce and I were going on a date. I'm sure Brooklyn and Brian know about this now and we're banking on them taking the bait. I talked to Pierce the next day at school on Tuesday, and he agreed to help us catch the killer. We told him our hypothesis and plan, and he was on board to help.

He's a year older than us, and already has a provisional license. He also has a firm alibi, making him the perfect person to help us.

The car pulls into an empty parking lot. I guess the one advantage of it being a gray rainy day is that there are no kids around. I can't stand the idea of someone else getting hurt because of me.

My hand finds the cold metal door handle.

"Ready?" Pierce asks. "A performance in Evan's honor."

"For Evan," I agree. And for me. If I'm right, I'll clear my name, not just for the police by for myself, too.

My feet land on gravel, and the door shuts with a bang. My feet crunch on the gravel as we walk out from the car. I glance around the empty area. This suddenly feels like a very bad idea. What if brooklyn and brian don't show up? What if their plans are finished?

Worse yet, what if they do show up? What if we aren't prepared for them?

I tap into my enhanced sense. This will be the key. I need to detect two people in advance before they make their move. So far, only two energies warm my skin.

Pierce looks at me, a question in his eyes. I subtly shake my head. No sign of them yet.

"Let's stand under there." Pierce points to an awning. I follow him over. The rain stops trickling on my face and clothes once we're under it. Water drips from the cracks in the ceiling onto plastic tables, but otherwise, it's fairly dry.

I shiver, cold seeping into my bones. I huddle against my winter coat. The cold wouldn't even be that bad if it weren't drizzling.

"So, any more thoughts on joining the drama club?" Pierce asks. Sitting beside me, he stretches his legs out under the table.

"Not really." I crack a nervous smile. He's trying to distract me, make the time pass less slowly. Silence permeates the air between us, aside from the rain pitter-pattering on the roof overhead.

Then I feel it. A two-fold warmth creeps up my arms, raising the hair on them. Two more people are nearby. It could be someone harmless, a kid and a parent coming to the park.

It could also be two more presences that have far more sinister intentions.

My eyes lock with Pierce's, and he knows.

It's time to complete the performance of our lives.

The plan that we came up with is now set into motion. I unzip my purse and root around in it for a moment. Then, I say, "I think I left my phone in the car."

"Oh." Pierce pulls his keys from his pocket and clicks the lock twice. The car opens.

"Thanks." I walk to the car, resisting the urge to turn around. When I open the door, I tell Zoe, "someone's here."

"Do I call?" she stares up at me with wide, expectant eyes.

"Not quite." I glance around. Still no sign of who these people are. "Though it's awfully strange that whoever's nearby is just lurking in the trees."

Dead tree trunks, barren except for a few dried leaves, twist around each other and crane their necks skyward. They're still, silent.

Then I hear a crackle. My gaze whips to the nearest tree. I squint into the distance. My vision isn't as adept as Pierce's, so I turn in his direction. Pierce has gone stiff, and though he tries to keep his face schooled, his eyes dart to a place among the trees, not far away from the awning. Burnt orange fabric seems to move through the trees alongside a beige sweatshirt.

I recognize the beige sweatshirt. Actually, it was what Brooklyn wore in class today.

"Now," I whisper. Zoe's finger jabs the screen, and I shut the door to muffle the 911 call.

And now to delay looming death. Can I cheat it this time?

I crouch behind the car, peeking around the front of the shiny chrome. Pierce turns his back to the woods while two figures sneak out from behind the trees, both Brooklyn and Brian. Part of me wonders why they both came. Shouldn't at least one be creating an alibi?

Their feet barely make a sound on the grass. Lucky for them, there isn't a leaf in sight. Then again, maybe they cleared them all away.

From her gaping sweatshirt pocket, Brooklyn removes a paper bag. She opens the top, sneaking around the back of Pierce. I ready my camera, taking a few quick photos. They're almost to the awning, almost right by Pierce.

"Stop!" I yell. Brooklyn and Brian duck behind the rocky posts of the awning. I rise from behind the car and approach. Pierce whirls around. His hand whips out pepper spray from his pocket and holds it up.

"Don't come any closer," he warns.

Pierce and I race out the other side of the awning. Pierce aims the spray bottle at them, cornering them against the stone post.

"Put the bag down," Pierce orders. Brooklyn's face hardens into a glare, then she tosses it aside.

"That just had my lunch in it," she says. "We were just having a picnic."

"In the trees?" Pierce raises an eyebrow.

"I got photos," I say. "You had that bag poised over Pierce's head. You were going to strangle him. Which fear was this to replicate?"

Brian and Brooklyn don't speak.

"Maybe fear of the dark," Pierce says.

"The police will be here shortly," I say. "We already called the police."

"You have no proof it was us," Brooklyn says.

"Oh really? You don't think we can find video footage of you stealing my phone from my bag in class?" Brooklyn purses her lips again.

I unlock my phone, revealing the screenshot I had already pulled up on my screen. "You both were adopted. On here, it states that your original last name was Keiger. You were related to Ronald and Lori, the two victims in the old oak bridge murder trial. We also have footage of someone who looks like Brian entering the buffet and never leaving. You have no alibi during that time because you switched your work shift and didn't go to school." Everything escapes me in a rush of air. When I'm done, silence reigns in the air. Brooklyn and Brian are like statues, unmoving, unblinking, unspeaking.

Brian coughs. "Brooklyn—"

"Shut up." Brooklyn snaps.

"Brooklyn, they've—"

"Shut up! They have nothing on us."

"They have everything on us unless you deleted the classroom video footage." Brooklyn purses her lips. Brian turns to his sister. "Brooklyn, it's over. They caught us on video."

For the first time, I see a semblance of emotion enter Brooklyn's eyes. Her blue eyes glisten, the same way her mother's looked in the photo in the police file. Her lips pull back in a sneer, ending the resemblance.

"You little —," she starts to snarl, then cuts off. "You had to go and mess everything up. Everything is just always about you, isn't it?"

I startle. "What do you mean?"

"You have to go and ruin everyone's lives, make people's miserable lives even worse."

"I don't understand. What are you talking about?"

"All you do is take from other people. Both you and evan."

"What do you mean?"

Brooklyn barks out a laugh. "For all your brains in figuring this out, you really are stupid. Don't you understand why we had to do this, why the score had to be settled."

"We had to even things out," Brian says.

"Killing Evan won't get revenge on Mr. Barnes," I say. "Besides, he already went to prison."

"For five years." Brooklyn wipes her nose and spits a glob in the dirt. "For three, short pitiful years. Our Mom was wrongly imprisoned for life, and yet he is getting out in five months. Or did you miss that in your research?"

"I-I..." I don't know what to say. I guess I did overlook that detail.

"But why me?" I ask.

"You were the perfect person to frame for the crime. A little two-fold revenge. We could get revenge on both your families, yours and Evans. Of the two of you, you were the one with diagnosed anxiety. I mean, you both had anxiety and were seeing people at the counseling center, but you were particularly messed up. There's no better revenge than driving you mad by making you believe you committed the murders. Even better is the fact that you nearly turned yourself in, didn't you?"

Anger flares on my cheeks, anger because she's right, I almost did. And I'm angry that I have so little control over my spiraling thoughts that she nearly convinced me that I'm the murderer.

"It's all your fault that our Mom is in prison," Brooklyn says. Tears are streaming down her face, but not the remorseful kind. They are the angry, resentful, revengeful kind.

"What are you talking about?" My head reels from Brooklyn's words, from her virulence.

"She framed our mom for murder!" Brooklyn all but screeches. Rain is pouring down now, and I shift my feet. Mud makes my feet feel rooted to the ground.

"W-what?" I say.

"Your mom framed our mom for murder," Brooklyn repeats.

A whirring sound breaks through the pitter-patter of rain. Lights flashes in the distance, coming in closer. My head spins from Brooklyn's words.

"S-she wouldn't do that." My teeth chatter, making it come out more uncertain than before.

My mind circles back to the letters found in Mom's drawer. But that's impossible. She wouldn't hide a murder, would she?

"You used to live on the same street as us," Brian says. "Or maybe you didn't look into those real estate records."

The police car parks on the side of the road. Two officers hop from the car and slowly approach.

"Just ask her," Brooklyn says. "Just wait and see." Zoe frantically explains something to the officers as she tags along beside them. She shows them the video on her phone to one while the other hurries toward us. He lifts the knife, which is lying under the awning. Brooklyn is still wearing her leather gloves and is nearby, making it look quite suspicious.

"We have three eye witnesses," Pierce says. "Brooklyn and Brian were going to try to stab me."

My head falls into a tunnel vision as Pierce and Zoe talk to the police. The police state the Miranda Warnings to Brooklyn and Brian as they are hand-cuffed. All I see as they are being led away is Brooklyn's mouth moving as she says, "just ask her."

Just ask her. Ask my mom, the one who betrayed me. All these years, I've been terrified of misjudging someone as a threat, of harming someone who's innocent. But what if I've been blind to the true threat all along, a person I trusted yet was actually a criminal?

My knees buckle, and I stumble forward. Zoe catches me while the police officer says, "we need to call your parents."

Parents. Mom.

Mom is coming.

I don't know whether I should be relieved or terrified.

***

Mom's worried face appears from the car as she hops out. She rushes toward me, but I back away, deeper under the awning. Zoe and her mom are already here as is the police officer, all waiting to make sure I get home safely.

I don't know if i'll be safe with her.

"Oh, Madelyn. Are you alright?" Mom stops a few paces away, cautious, like I'm a frightened deer about to sprint off at any moment.

"I-I'm, I—" I break off. Tears swallow my words, constricting my throat.

"Let's get you home." Though I want to shrink back further as she approaches, I allow her to place a firm arm around my shoulder. She steers me to the car, and I numbly find myself seated on the cold leather of Mom's SUV.

The car engine revs, though I barely register it over the rushing blood in my ears, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" Mom asks. "What were you—"

"Why did you receive letters from Mrs. barnes?" The question shoots from my mouth, a projectile of frustration, fatigue, and anxiety. Definitely anxiety.

Mom's head jolts toward me. "W-what?"

"Don't even try to deny it, Mom. I saw the letters in your drawer. You never told me we used to be their neighbors, nor did you mention that we were neighbors to Ronald and Lori, the two victims in the old oak bridge murder trial."

Mom swallows. "Madelyn, that's not—"

"What memory did Amber erase from my mind?" Mom doesn't reply. The hum of the car, the sweeping of her hands over the steering wheel, replace any sound.

"If I run upstairs right now after this when we get home, what will I find? What sort of plots will I find hatched inside?"

Mom stops at the stop sign at the end of the road. Her eyes shut, and her throat bobs as she swallows. "Madelyn, I... I never intended..." Her voice breaks, but my resolve only hardens.

"Mom, did you frame an innocent woman, Lori Keiger, for murder?" Tears fall from Mom's eyes. Her non-response is answer enough. I cross my arms as my world crumbles around me.

I trusted her. I thought Mom could keep me safe. For years, I've been terrified of misinterpreting a threat, of being a menace to society despite misjudging benign intentions. In reality, the person who I've been terrified of harming, hurt me.

"You sent an innocent woman to prison, leaving behind two other kids."

"I didn't have a choice," Mom cries. This is the first time I've ever seen her face screw up with tears. Black lines trail down her cheeks from mascara.

"Yes. You did have a choice. You could've chosen not to frame an innocent woman."

"You don't understand." Mom faces me. "Mrs. Barnes saw you. She saw you through the window."

"The window?" My brow creases. I don't want to be interested in what she has to say — there is nothing to justify what she did — yet I find myself dying of curiosity.

"That's the memory you're missing," Mom says. "You saw Mrs. Barnes kill Ronald with a candlestick. You were so young and frightened, your powers were just manifesting, and Amber and I were concerned that the stress of a murder investigation might push you over the edge. Amber thought it'd be best to send the memory into dormancy in your mind and to shield you from the incident so you wouldn't have to testify in court. Unfortunately, what that did to your mind is that you internalized the event. Now, you're scared another murder will occur by your own hands."

"But that doesn't explain why you had to frame an innocent person."

"Mrs. Barnes offered us money."

"Money?" I deadpan. "Are you kidding me? You accepted—"

"It was for you!" Mom exclaims. "I did, we did it, for you. Your father and I. We could see that this was a difficult power for you to deal with, and Amber said that counseling would only go so far. You had to go to Eralyn to learn how to control your power before it completely controlled you."

I'm shaking with emotion, with anger, sorrow, frustration, panic, fear... everything.

"We could've never afforded it, Madelyn," Mom whispers. She faces forward now, both hands gripping the steering wheel. "You know that, right? Even when your father was alive and earning a salary, we could barely pay the bills. Now, we have a nice house and you can go to Eralyn."

"I would rather I never went," I say, crossing my arms. My world is shattered. I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know what I can do. Do I go to the police with this? How do I go on living with someone who covered up such an egregious murder?

Mom puts the car into drive at last. The car rolls forward, and she makes a right hand turn.

The car moves forward, headed home. Life moves forward, though I don't feel safe in my home anymore.