Page 2 of We’re All Going to Die Tonight!

Marlene offers me a weak half smile. “It’s just a little bumpier than the ride up.”

“You’re not wrong,” I say. “The Death Van special.”

Marlene laughs a little, then frowns and says, “Are we sure this thing can make it all the way back to Rancho Paloma?”

“No,” I say honestly. There was one time they tried to take it to Big Bear and it literally started sliding backward down the road—even with snow chains. But I don’t think it would be helpful to share that now with Marlene, judging from the way her eyes flare wide.

“Sorry, just kidding,” I say, nudging her a little. “You can borrow my headphones if you want to try to drown out the noise. Might help if you can’t hear everything.”

She smiles. “Thanks. I have some. And Ms. Dorman gave me essential oils to help with motion sickness.”

“Did they help?” I ask, feeling my own stomach lurch as we hit a particularly rough stretch of road.

Marlene shrugs. She continues to roll the edge of her sleeve between her thumb and index finger, then looks back up at me.

“I wanted to talk to you, actually,” she says, lowering her voice so that it’s nearly impossible to hear her. “Before we get to the Airbnb.”

Right. The Airbnb. I should be happy we’re staying somewhere so nice after spending the last several days sharing a tiny room at the Hilton with Kaitlyn and Marlene. If you believe Emerson’s near-constant bragging, the Airbnb booked for tonight was built for royalty. It’s literally called Thornhill Manor and is so big that we’re each guaranteed our own room and bathroom, something I don’t even have at home because of my sister.

“A place for us to celebrate our success properly,” he’d told us when he booked it. “A place for winners.”

Thanks to me, it’s now more of a consolation prize. Something Emerson hasn’t failed to bring up—at least four times.

“If you’re okay talking,” Marlene says. “We don’t have to.”

I wince. Clearly, I was right about Marlene picking up on things. I’ve never had a great poker face, especially when I drift off to the land of picking myself apart. I mentally remind myself to stay in this moment, this conversation. My emotional wallowing can wait. There’ll be plenty of time for that later when I’m alone.

“No, of course,” I say, forcing a smile. “What’s up?”

She doesn’t answer right away, instead glancing over her shoulder and then to the front of the van. I follow her gaze to where Ms. Dorman’s driving and Mr. Jay’s next to her in the passenger seat. I stare at the back of Mr. Jay’s head. For a moment, I wonder what it would be like if someone hit him right in the back of his skull. How hard would it have to be to split it open? How quickly would the blood appear, and could you see it through his dark, curly hair?

As the thoughts cycle through my head, I run my tongue over the exposed skin on my lip. The metallic taste is still there. I know I shouldn’t think like this. But ever since the debate competition, I haven’t been able to stop.

What would happen if he fell down an elevator shaft? Drowned in the hotel pool? Stepped into oncoming traffic?

“Well, I was just thinking,” Marlene says, cutting through my still-drifting thoughts. At least Marlene doesn’t seem to have noticed this time. She looks from me to Mr. Jay. He’s laughing at something Ms. Dorman’s said, the sound ricocheting around us. I’ve heard they have a surgery for dogs that removes their vocal cords. It’s supposed to be pretty inhumane.

Maybe someone should do it to him.

“Go ahead,” I tell Marlene, pulling my gaze from Mr. Jay and back to her. “No one’s listening to us.”

“It’s just,” she says, staring at the floor. “I don’t really know what to say, but I feel like you should know.”

“Know what?” I press.

“Know that…that…”

A popping sound rips through the air, and the Death Van lurches sideways. I grip the edge of my seat to keep from flying. The leather, torn and sharp, bites into one of my hands as I use the other to grab the arm of Marlene’s hoodie to keep her from falling out of her seat. There’s the squeal of brakes, the sound of metal gnashing and dragging against the road, and the smell of burned rubber that’s immediately thick on the air.

I lean forward against the ice-cold glass of the window as soon as we’re steady and peer outside. I’ve spent most of the last few hours staring out this window, watching evening slip into night. We’ve been driving along the coast, and for a while I watched inky-black ocean waves break under the moonlight. For the last thirty minutes or so, the view was blocked by the thick forest on both sides of the two-lane highway. There was nothing to see but trees and road.

Now, though, I see something else.

A dark shape—moving from the road to the woods.

Chapter 2

Caulder