We hit traffic the whole way across town, but none of it compares to the pile up on Darren's street now. Every model of car clogs up the turn off for his driveway, and just eyeballing it, I can tell we're not moving anytime soon. I wish the numbers on the clock would follow our lead; my panic spikes as it ticks past the eight o'clock mark.

"Jeez, all of Susquehanna has to be here," Carter mutters, leaning over the steering wheel.

"We're not gonna make it." I snap my phone shut once my text to Darren goes through. After my first seven calls, they started going straight to voicemail, meaning he probably turned off his phone. I can only hope he checks it again over the next hour. "Once you park, meet me inside. Keep an eye out for Mark in the meantime."

Deja vu strikes as Carter locks the door before I can jump out. "Hang on, you're leaving me here? I can't just sit and wait while you go looking for them, not after you dropped the whole drug dealer bomb on me."

It wasn't the full bomb, just a baby nuke to stop his questioning. It had been enough to explain Mark's side hustle and the deal going down tonight without mentioning what exactly they're selling and the policy that goes with it.

"Too bad. We don't have time to argue about it, especially when we both know I'm gonna do what I want anyway."

"What if Darren gets pissed at you for interfering? I wouldn't put it past him to hit a girl, and at a party with all his friends, who knows what he'll do to save face if you bust him."

I yank on the handle impatiently. "He won't! Darren's not going to hurt me, but I can't say the same for Mark if I don't find them. Now please, the door."

Raking a hand through his hair, Carter gives me an exasperated look. "This isn't making sense, Amber. You're talking like they're about to enter a deal with Pablo Escobar, not a cocaine drop for a couple freshmen. What aren't you telling me?"

I should just tell him — I know I should — but I can't go into explaining Mark's death without touching on the time travel too. Adult Carter barely digested it the first time, and he had a fully formed frontal lobe. As much as I love the kid, the same can't be said now, and I don't wanna risk him holding me here until he gets it the second time around.

Staring pointedly over his shoulder, I gasp. "Shit, I think that's him!"

Like an encore performance, Carter's attention whips around to the window and his finger slips off the lock. When I burst out of the truck this time, I make sure to land on my feet.

"Amber, wait!" But I'm already gone, Carter's voice disappearing into the commotion of honking horns and party music from the house. Even at the top of Darren's driveway, the bass thumps against the beat of my heart, a palpitation effect that makes my chest feel like it's gonna explode. I push through and book it down the winding road, ignoring the increasing fire in my lungs.

The driveway is ten times longer on foot, and with the added obstacles of cars parked on both the grass and gravel, I'm out of breath by the time I reach Darren's house. A sense of foreboding restricts my airways as I stare up at it, making me wheeze. I bend over and steady myself with hands on knees, taking deep breaths and regathering my thoughts.

Scan the house. Search the bedrooms. Keep an eye out for Darren and Mark. I run the list through my head in a steady rhythm. The party is only so big.

With new conviction, I brace myself for the trek ahead, then take Darren's ridiculously steep front steps. It's a tight squeeze; people jostle me on either side, and from the moment my foot crosses the threshold, all I register is the smell of booze clogging my lungs.

I gasp for breath once the space around me clears up, Darren's foyer handling the crowd without problem. It's drastically different from the echoing entryway Mollie led me through days ago; every inch is draped with drunken teenagers, some new arrivals, others well on their way to hangovers tomorrow. It takes a minute to tap back into the layout of the house, but once I recognize the hallway on my right, it all snaps back into place.

A little voice reminds me that it's still too early, even as I push through classmates and strangers alike to reach the basement. I ignore it and sprint for the middle door, swinging it open and rushing down the stairs. The change in temperature is shocking between upstairs and here, the cool air heightening my senses. Just like I figured, no one's down here; then again, I already know it stays this way most of the party.

The vision of this night scratches at my memory, propelling me further beneath Darren's house. I don't bother with the first few doors, shooting directly to the one at the end, noting the lack of light from underneath it. I check anyway, letting out a short sigh of relief when it comes up empty. The timeline is holding up, and I'm ahead of schedule.

Feeling more assured, I do a quick sweep of the rest of the bedrooms just to rule them out, then pick my way back to the stairs. My legs are dead by the time I reach the top again. I know I shouldn't stop, but a vacant chair near the front entrance is calling my lungs, tempting them to take a break.

"I can still watch the door," I rationalize, feet already moving. My choice is justified more when I notice a clock on the opposite wall, hanging above the stairs that wind up to the second floor. I adjust the chair so I have a perfect view of both, then try and calm my racing heart.

I'm gonna find him, I chant to myself. I've got everything I need.

"Damn, down for the count already? Little early in the night, Amber, don't you think?"

I glance over my shoulder and find Tanner looking down at me, holding two red solo cups. He moves to hand me one, but I wave him off.

"I'm ok, thanks." Turning back to the door, I hope my body language reads go away now.

"Guess that's for the best if you're feeling sick," he holds it out again, "which is why I brought water. Already had some on hand for Clay. I say he's got about two more stands in him until he's out cold."

Studying the cup, I grudgingly accept it, swallowing down half of it in one gulp. "Thanks. "

"Well, I know Carter would kill me if I didn't come over and check on you. He should be here soon, actually, just in case you guys wanted to talk, or dance or... whatever."

Tanner's probably the worst wingman I've seen in action, but thankfully, Carter doesn't need one. "He drove me. He's just out parking the car."

"Ahhhh, hence your spot by the door." I can hear the smugness dripping off every word, but my eyes are locked on the foyer, analyzing anybody that walks through it. "In that case, I'll leave you to it. Tell Carter the keg's over here when he's ready."

I mumble in response, but all focus is back on Mark. Regenerated, I begin working out a plan while periodically checking the door so I don't miss him by accident. But just as I feel Tanner's presence leave my side, I'm struck with something to ask.

"Hey, Tanner, wait." I twist in my chair and catch him before he joins the circle around Clay and the keg. "Have you guys seen Darren yet?"

"Oh yeah, as soon as we got here. Greeted us at the door. Say what you want about the guy, but he knows how to throw a party." He gestures to the growing congestion around us.

"Where is he now?"

Tanner shrugs. "Last I saw he was at the door, but I heard shits getting crazy in the backyard, so his hands are probably full. If you're looking for bud, Clay bought on the way in. I'm sure he'd share."

Filing away the info about Darren, I spin back in my chair. "I'm good. Like you said, I'm down for the—"

The idiom dies in my throat when familiar brown hair tickles my peripheral. Just as quickly, it disappears back into the crowd before I can be sure it's him. Knocking back my chair, I barrel through the onslaught of people. Some curse me out as I shove them out the way, but their voices blur into the background when I catch sight of him disappearing around a corner.

"Mark!" I shout over the speakers stationed on either side of the living room. I pass between them to swing around the same corner, only to find myself in the biggest kitchen I've ever seen, including the one in New York. It's even busier back here, though most of the faces belong to total strangers. I don't think I recognize anyone from our school — except for a brunette cowlick on the far side of the room. Heart soaring, I fly across the marble floors and grab him by the shoulder.

And immediately, I know I'm wrong.

Too broad, too muscular; I don't bat an eye when I come face to face with random eyes giving me a curious look. "Yeah?"

Shaken, I stumble away from him.

"Sorry," I mumble, but he's already out of earshot. I lean against the kitchen island to steady myself, but any sense of security I felt moments ago is gone. There are hundreds of kids here, and Mark's haircut isn't going to be enough to identify him. Now isn't the time for me to get cocky or forget what's at stake — the clock on the oven confirms it.

8:15pm.

"Shit." How have I been here this long already? My head whips around the kitchen, scrutinizing everyone much closer than before. They must be underclassmen, or even kids from other counties, because their faces stay unfamiliar no matter how hard I stare.

The few seniors I do run into give me the same answer, one after the other: haven't seen him, haven't seen him, haven't seen him. Changing course, I try to redirect my attention back to the living room, but it's only getting later — and the party's only getting wilder.

There isn't an inch of free space, all of us packed together like sardines. It doesn't stop the bodies gyrating on the makeshift dance floor or the flow of alcohol raining down from the staircase. It's total chaos, a complete free for all with no supervision in sight. It hasn't slipped my attention that Mark isn't the only brunette MIA, and I have to ask myself, why would Darren do this to his house and not even try to control it?

I don't contemplate it for long. Mark must be off somewhere secluded, so it's useless to keep looking down here. I sprint past a sliding glass door, my path set for the jammed up staircase, but a familiar face out on the deck stops me in my tracks. A much younger face than the last time I saw her.

"Chloe!" I scream, banging on the glass.

Her eyes snap up from the drink she's nursing, then flood with relief once she locates me through the crowd. She was leaning against the railing with a good two feet between her and the group she clearly came with, but now she pushes off without a glance back. They're all too absorbed in whatever Jane's talking about anyway.

"Oh, thank God," she gushes once she reaches the door and slides it open, throwing her arms around me. I have to shift my weight to avoid toppling under hers.

"Chlo, wait, stop—"

"If I had to hear Jane pitch her new 'bike to school' initiative one more time, she was going over the railing. I'm not kidding bitch, legs flying through the— wait. Where the hell have you been?" Pulling back, she grips my shoulder to steady herself. "Shit, it's your fault I was stuck over there for the first five pitches. We were supposed to meet up hours ago! I get it, when dick calls, ya gotta answer, but a simple text would've been nice. I've been so patient waiting for it to happen."

"Chloe, we do not have time for this right now," I insist. I'm aiming for stern, but if getting sober Chloe to act serious is a challenge, convincing her while she's drunk is full on impossible.

"Well, guess we know Hayes is shit in bed. You're wound even tighter than usual, which in my experience is not a side effect of good sex. Drink," she tries to hold her cup up to my mouth, "to forget, babe. I really had high hopes for the kid. Makes me feel bad, like I should talk to him or something, you know? Maybe I can give him some pointers, I mean I have gotten some amazing feedback myself, and we're both working with the same parts—"

There's too much going on, and I can barely hear myself think much less the monologue spilling out of her mouth. Anything I say to her won't be worth the time it'll waste, not with so many people around us. Gripping her wrist, I drag Chloe back outside to a quieter corner of the deck in hopes it'll help her concentrate.

"Look, I will give you every intimate, toe-curling, sheet-gripping detail later, a fucking play by play if you really want it, but that's gonna have to wait because we have got to find Mark. That's the only thing that matters for the next forty five minutes, ok?"

"Mark?" Her brows furrow. "Look, I'm thrilled you finally slept with Carter, especially since it means I won my bet with Tanner, but I doubt Mark will share my enthusiasm."

"This isn't about Carter, Chlo. Mark's in trouble — serious trouble. He's been selling for Darren, and if we don't find both of them before nine, their deal's gonna go bad. We can't let that happen."

"Hold up," she slams the rest of her drink back, then leans against the railing. "You're telling me Mark's been selling this whole time and we're still paying Darren's shitty prices? The boy never even offered us friends and family!"

"Chloe—"

She holds her hands up. "Relax, I'm gonna help you find him. He owes us both an explanation, plus a good cut of what he makes as retribution. How could he not get us in on this?"

"Trust me, we don't want to be." Before she can ask any follow up questions, I grip her by the shoulders. "Look, there's no room for mistakes here. We have to be fast, but we have to be thorough. It's a big house, but we just gotta cover as much of it as we can and stay alert. Focus on quieter points, and no matter what, do not — I mean it Chloe, don't tune me out for this — do not let Tori distract you."

Her mouth drops. "What do you—"

"Cut the shit, you know exactly what I mean. Whatever she tries, you tell her no until you find Mark or Darren. Nothing else before that. Clear?" She starts to answer, but I cut in again. "And no, I will not explain how I know about you and her. Are we clear?"

Sighing, she tosses her cup into a nearby trash can. "Crystal. Let's find the son of a bitch."

We split up, Chloe taking the steps down to the backyard while I shoot back inside to check upstairs. It's a gruesome process getting up there, but I finally clear the steps and work methodically through the floor, combing over every inch of it and leaving no door unopened. I get cursed at — a lot — especially when I walk in on what looks like the beginning of a threesome, but none of it fazes me. All that registers is they aren't Mark.

Once I'm sure he's not up here, it's back down the stairs, through every family room, sitting room, formal room, powder room, then to the basement to flush it all out again. Every door that leads to an empty room adds another notch to my anxiety level, and by the time I scramble out the basement door into the backyard, I am full on panicking.

"C'mon, Chlo, tell me you've got him."' I don't even care which one at this point, as long as they're apart. I don't spot her right away. Tanner wasn't kidding about shit hitting the fan out here — there's a literal bonfire burning in the middle of the yard, with most people congregating around it. At the far back sits a liquor bar, fully stocked as if the party's just started, and I locate her hanging off the end of it, ordering another drink.

"What are you doing?" I screech, running up beside her. It takes everything in me not to wrap my hands around her neck when she looks down at me with nothing but an air of ease.

"Ah, yeah, I didn't see him anywhere. Swear I looked." She holds up three fingers in a scout's salute, then takes two drinks from the bartender. "Aaand, I got our favorites. Rum and Coke with a splash of grenadine, just like my sister makes 'em."

Thoughts of homicide not pertaining to Mark flood my mind until someone rests a hand on my waist.

"Hey, sorry, parking was shit." Carter looks haggard already, suggesting he found us the long way through the house. "Did you guys find Mark?"

His question sends my heart plummeting. "You didn't see him on the way in?"

"No, but there's a chance he came in behind me."

"And Darren?"

He shakes his head apologetically. "It's insane in there. Darren has to be running around dealing with it all."

"He's not," I shout, taking them both by surprise, but I can't bite back my fear anymore. Jerking my phone out, I hold my breath and check the time again, then nearly chuck it when the clock reads 8:30.

The two of them exchange looks, but it's Carter who rests a hand on my back. "Amber, calm down, he's gotta be around here—"

"He's not, Carter! I have spent the last twenty minutes covering every inch of this house, and I can say with certainty he is not here. This isn't making any sense. Mark, fine, he's not due for another seven minutes, but Darren? What am I missing?"

"A drink, for starters," Chloe tries again, but I snatch the cup from her and do chuck it across the yard. "Or not."

"Look, you said Darren's dealing tonight, right?" Carter pauses to see if I'll throw something else before continuing. "Maybe he's using someone's car to sell, or even the garage. Have you checked there?"

"Ooooh, or maybe the woods!" Chloe chimes in like it's a game of charades. "That's secluded, right? I could totally see Darren being dramatic and making people walk through trees and shit just to buy. But wait, why are we still pretending Mark's gonna come?"

Her question takes me completely off guard. "What?"

"I mean, the kid's been ditching us all summer for work," Chloe burps, takes another swig, then adds, "Why should tonight be any different? He probably just picked up another late shift at the diner and didn't tell you."

Annoyed, I brush her off. "He can't be at work, Chlo. He's supposed to be here selling—" but then, I finish the sentence, "hard drugs."

"It was just a suggestion," she mumbles into her drink.

"Well, it was a good one. I had the same thought," Carter assures her. "But Amber's right, he's not there. I checked before we came."

"What shift was it?" I ask, heart pounding my chest.

Carter frowns. "What do you—"

"Was it the last shift of the night?"

He eyes me cautiously, picking up on my frantic energy. "No. Tyler said there was another after his..."

I tune the rest out. I'm staring at them, but my mind is gone, every synapse shooting off at once. I'm in a brightly-lit living room, Chloe laying on a couch with too many pillows. It was so small, a stepping stone to figuring out Darren's involvement, and at the time I didn't give much thought to Chloe correcting me about his deals — and where they happened.

"Darren only carried weed on him."

"At school, yeah, but the right people knew where to find Darren if they were looking for something stronger."

"She told us to eat," I whisper, another memory hitting me square in the gut.

Chloe stands on her toes and looks over towards the bonfire. "Actually, I am a bit hungry. You think Darren splurged for catering?"

"Hey, are you okay?" Carter asks, rubbing circles against my back. "You're shaking."

"Callie... she told us to eat," I grip Carter's arm, digging my nails into his sleeve, "after I asked about another message. God, and I told you to hit her with the truck!"

"Who's Callie and why are we hitting her with a truck?" Chloe asks; she shuts up quickly when I grab her by the shoulders.

"The girls on the squad, the ones who buy the hard shit from Darren, have any of them ever mentioned the diner?" I demand, shaking her for good measure.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"The cheerleaders!" I shout. "You told me some of them buy outside of school at secret locations. Is the diner one of those places?"

"Carter, she's gonna pop my arm out the socket!" With his help, she shakes me off, then rubs her shoulder blade. "I've never said anything about where Darren sells hard drugs. Hell, I didn't even know he did that!"

"Then how did you—" But I'm remembering the conversation wrong. It wasn't Chloe who knew about the hot drug spots around town. It was her self proclaimed popular wife.

"Tori."

Dumbstruck, Chloe looks to Carter again. "Is she on crack?"

He looks like he doesn't know how to answer. "Amber, you gotta slow down. We have no idea what you're talking about."

"Tori. Where is she?" I have to know for sure. I can't take the risk of driving all the way out there, only to get hit by another curveball if I'm somehow still wrong.

"One minute you're telling me to ignore the girl, now I'm supposed to be her keeper," Chloe throws her hands up in frustration, "You're lucky I really did look around for Mark or else I wouldn't have seen her when I was checking out front."

Skidding in the newly set grass, I take off across the lawn and head for the driveway.

Carter catches up with me when I'm about halfway there. "Ok, I know we're doing this new trust thing, but this is getting a little crazy now. What the hell does Tori Whitfield have to do with Mark?"

"No one saw him tonight, Carter," I puff out. "We kept saying it over and over, and not once did we stop and consider that he never came. Darren sat stationed at the door to be sure people saw his face before he slipped out, and when shit went south, he snuck Mark into the basement and staged him like a partier. Darren didn't throw this to celebrate senior year — it's to cover up the deal going on somewhere else."

As we come around the front porch, Carter peers at me, baffled. "How does any of that answer my question?"

"Because she's the only one who knows where the deal is really happening." I find Tori lounging on one of the chaises spread out along the porch, Hannah and Claire flanking her on either side. Holding back tears from the pain in my legs, I take the front steps again two at a time, Carter close behind me.

I'm a sweaty mess by the time I reach Tori's chair, and by the look on her face, she doesn't appreciate it.

"Um, why are you standing here?" she asks flatly, eyeing us both. "Go away, you guys smell awful."

"Does Darren sell at The Pink Whale?" I'm cutting straight to the point — she's not gonna deal with me long.

She raises a brow. "Is that a riddle or something?"

"It's a question. The sooner you answer it, the sooner we leave. Does Darren deal out of the diner, yes or no?"

Tori crosses her arms defensively. "Why do you automatically assume I know?"

"Ok, as much as you've grown on me, and even knowing our acquaintanceship is gonna last past graduation, I will hurt you if you don't answer in the next two seconds, and I promise no one here will help you."

If I could frame the look on Tori's face, I'd hang copies on every wall in my house.

"He does," Hannah blurts out, glancing quickly at Tori. "At least, that's what Jessa told me. I haven't gone myself or anything."

"Yeah right," Tori mutters, standing abruptly. She pushes past me, presumably to storm back inside, but then I notice Chloe following us up the stairs.

"I need to talk to you," I overhear Tori saying just as I catch up to her.

Chloe's gaze drags dramatically down her body with a look that almost makes me blush. "Mmmm, decided to dress up for me, huh?"

"Nope," I step between them, "Nope, nope, nope. None of that until Mark is safe. I need you guys to watch the back bedroom in the basement just in case Carter and I don't get to the diner in time."

"Actually, I think I just said we're talking." Tori tries to push me out the way, but Carter breaks us up before I can haul back and slug her.

"Stop it, alright?" Carter scolds. "This is all getting blown way out of proportion. It would take me at least an hour to get the car back out of here, and from what you're saying, the deal will be over by then anyway. So, why don't we just call the diner, ask for Mark, and then—"

"They are selling heroin, and Darren's going to make Mark test it with coke still in his system," I finally explode. "He's gonna overdose if we don't leave, now!"

It sends all three of them into stunned silence, no one moving a muscle.

Then, "God damnit, Amber," Carter swears, grabbing me by the hand.

"The basement, was it?" Chloe calls after he and I as we barrel back down the stairs.

"Guard the back bedroom," I yell over my shoulder, "and for the love of God, please don't fuck her in it!"

The last thing I see is Tori's shocked expression before we're flying up the driveway. My feet pound against the asphalt with no destination in sight; we shoot right past Carter's truck that's boxed in on all sides.

"How are we gonna get there? Like you said, we don't have time to find the people blocking us."

"We're gonna borrow a car," he answers brusquely, not slowing down.

"Uh, did you have someone specific in mind?"

Carter's only answer is pulling me along faster. I follow his gaze to a lanky body walking down from the street, swinging a pair of keys around his finger.

"Well looky here, just who I risked sneaking out for." Tyler's voice identifies him before he steps out of the shadows with an arrogant smirk. "How about I help you ditch blondie here so we can get some alone time again?"

Without skipping a beat, Carter reers back and punches Tyler across the face, knocking him out cold. Leaning down, he yanks the keys from his finger.

"Enjoy the party, dick," Carter mutters before taking my hand again and pulling us the last few feet to Tyler's newly parked car.