Unfriended (29 page)

OUTBOX 1 of 43
To: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:02
P.M.

Pretty please, Kavya?

A second later, my phone beeped with a response.

INBOX 1 of 38
From: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:03
P.M.

Yes. But only because you asked nicely.

I gripped the phone but resisted the urge to throw it against the wall, mostly because I knew Travis would make me pay for it, and probably also spring for an upgraded model. I peeked around the side of the building as subtly as I was able and saw Kavya, wearing a bikini top and jean shorts, sauntering up to the concession counter. I shook my head. Justin really didn’t stand a chance. I spotted Mark arriving from the other side, with what I’m sure he thought was a nonchalant walk but actually just made him look both suspicious and uncoordinated.

I hustled over to where Schuyler and Peyton were waiting, by the back door of the concession stand.

“Okay?” Schuyler whispered. She was wearing her usual warm-weather attire of a hat and long-sleeved shirt, and was looking very overheated as a result.

“I think so,” I whispered back as my phone rang with an incoming call from Mark. I pressed the button to answer it, but didn’t say hello, just put the phone on speaker, and we huddled around it so we could hear what was going on.

“Heya, Justin,” I heard Mark say in what was unmistakably a Boston accent. And not a very good one. Peyton frowned at the phone and I just shook my head, knowing there was nothing we could do about it now. The sound was slightly muffled, and with good reason—we were hearing this through Mark’s shirt pocket. “Greetings from the concession stand at the other end of the harbah!”

“Why is Mark talking like that?” Schuyler whispered.

“Because apparently he thought this wasn’t complicated enough already,” I whispered back to her.

“Uh, hey,” we heard Justin reply, as another voice cut in.

“Well. Hi there,” Kavya said in a voice that was much breathier—and nicer—than her normal one.

“Hey,” Justin said, sounding shocked, but very happy. “You’re, um, Kavya, right? From the smoothie place?”

“A man with a good memory,” Kavya practically purred, causing Peyton to roll her eyes hugely. “How … refreshing.”

“Did you need something, Matt?” Justin asked, sounding more distracted than ever.

“Mahk,” Mark corrected, his bad accent getting
stronger. “We’re outta napkins. Can I ask a favah? Could I borrow some of yours?”

“Oh,” I heard Justin say. “Um, sure … just …”

“I could come back later,” Kavya said, and even through a phone in a shirt pocket, I could tell that she was pouting. “Since it seems like you’re busy now.”

“No,” Justin said eagerly. “Not at all … uh, Mike?”

“
Mahk
,” Mark corrected.

“Right, sorry,” Justin said. “Just go on back yourself and take what you need. And I’ll help out my lovely customer.”

“Did you really used to date him?” Peyton asked me, looking appalled.

“Wicked,” Mark said. “Thanks!”

We heard a door slam, and Justin and Kavya talking in voices that were growing fainter. “Mark,” I whispered into the phone, looking around. I knew there was only so long the three of us could stand huddled around a phone by the back door, particularly when one of us was wearing the world’s largest sun hat, and not be noticed by someone who would want to know what we were doing there.

“Almost theah,” Mark said, sounding more and more like a Kennedy. Or an Affleck. “I’m just walking down the corridah.”

The back door swung open, and Mark held it for me as I glanced around quickly before stepping inside, Peyton following behind me. I met Schuyler’s eye before the door swung shut, and she nodded. She was going to be keeping watch, and texting if there was anyone
coming in who might be surprised to find two nonemployees there. “Mark,” I hissed, once the door was closed behind us, “what is with the accent?”

“I’m sorry!” he whispered. “I do accents when I get nervous!” He started to walk down the narrow, dark hallway that led to the counter, and gestured for me to follow. He pointed Peyton to a large wooden cabinet, and she opened it. Then he led us to a small row of employee cubbies, all thankfully open and without locks. I scanned them, just hoping that Kavya was working her magic and keeping Justin occupied. “There,” Mark whispered, pointing to Justin’s black messenger bag.

I took a deep breath and lifted it from the cubby, pausing for just a moment before unzipping it. This felt like it was crossing a line, for me. I was about to steal—or, technically, borrow without permission—someone’s personal property. But then I thought of how Isabel had stolen my prom dress and cut it up, how Justin had abused my trust to lure me into Isabel’s trap. True, Justin wasn’t as bad as she was, but he had thrown his lot in with her, and therefore would be held to the same standards. I unzipped the messenger bag and began rifling through it.

“Fastah,” Mark whispered to me, and I shook my head, feeling around in the darkness of Justin’s messenger bag.

“That’s not actually helping,” I said, sorting through what was in the bag. But I wasn’t finding what I was looking for. “What if it’s on him?” I asked.

“We’re not allowed to have them on us when we’re
working,” Mark whispered back, though he didn’t sound totally sure of this.

“You update your status from work all the time,” I replied, digging through the bag even faster now.

“Yes, but I nevah have any customers!”

I was trying to be fast, and thorough,
and
silent, which was a very challenging combination. I had just about given up when I felt it, at the very bottom of the bag. I closed my hand around it and, smiling, pulled out Justin’s phone.

“Thank Gad,” Mark murmured.

I had just started to tiptoe back toward the exit when the phone in my hand lit up. ISABEL CALLING, the display read. I froze, hoping that the phone was set on silent mode, but a moment later, “Gotta Be Somebody,” by Nickelback, began playing. I hit the button to silence the call immediately, but didn’t move, well aware of how quiet everything seemed to have gotten, and how it felt like I could hear my own heart beating. Peyton crept around the corner silently, her arms full of napkin packages. She handed them to Mark, then raised a finger to her lips.

“Hey, Mike?” Justin called, and I glanced down the corridor, trying to estimate how long it would take us to make it out, and realizing with a sinking feeling that if Justin did come back, we wouldn’t have enough time to get out unseen.

“Heah!” Mark called, his voice crackling with nervousness.

“Did you hear my phone ring?” Justin asked, and
his voice sounded closer than ever. I looked toward the door again desperately, ready to run for it, when I caught Peyton’s eye. She shook her head and held up a hand, as though telling me,
wait
.

“No, I sure didn’t,” Mark called back, sounding more nervous than ever. “I was just … ya know. Singing. To myself.”

“But—” Justin started, and a moment later, Kavya jumped in.

“So do we have a plan?” she asked. “I’d just love to show you how our … equipment works.”

I wasn’t sure how she had managed to make absolutely everything she was saying sound like a double entendre, but she was pulling it off with aplomb. I had a feeling it had something to do with growing up in L.A.

“That … would be great,” Justin said, and he must have turned back to her, as his voice grew more muffled.

Mark, his arms full of napkins, nodded toward the front of the concession counter. “Thanks,” I whispered. “See you later tonight.”

“I’ll be theah!” he said, giving me a quick smile before hurrying off.

Peyton jerked her head toward the door, and we hustled down the corridor to the exit. She eased open the door slowly, and we stepped out into the sunlight. It seemed especially bright after the darkness inside, and I blinked, trying to get my eyes to adjust.

“Is everything okay?” Schuyler whispered, looking worried.

I nodded, and held up the phone. “We got it,” I said,
and Schuyler let out a sigh of relief. I tucked the phone carefully into my jean shorts pocket.

“So are you set for the yacht club?” Peyton asked, and I nodded, then turned to Schuyler, remembering a crucial component of this plan.

“Did you bring your permit?” I asked. Schuyler reached into her purse and pulled out a small plastic hangtag. I tucked it into the back pocket of my shorts, just hoping that nobody would notice that Judy was not, in fact, a massive SUV.

“And we’ll see you back at school tonight,” Schuyler said. “Good luck with the smoothie shop. And … be as nice to him as possible, okay?”

“He deserves everything that’s coming to him,” Peyton said dismissively. “I mean, Nickelback?
Really?
“

At that moment, an older man wearing a Putnam Beach Concessions polo and holding a clipboard approached the back door. Schuyler and Peyton broke left, suddenly very engaged in a conversation, and I lifted my phone to my ear, pretending I had a call as I veered right, then doubled back around, heading for my car.

By the time I reached Judy, my phone beeped with a text. I looked down at it and breathed a sigh of relief.

INBOX 1 of 39
From: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:15
P.M.

Done! He’s coming by OAB tonight at 6:30.

I felt a little guilty twist in my stomach about what was still to come. Stealing—or borrowing—Justin’s phone was just the tip of the iceberg. But I pushed that thought away and texted back.

OUTBOX 1 of 44
To: Kavya
Date: 7/1, 4:16
P.M.

Great! THANK YOU. See you then.

I unlocked my car and got in, stashing Shy’s permit in my glove compartment and placing Justin’s phone on the seat next to me. I put the keys in the ignition but didn’t start the car yet. I checked the time and sat there, thinking. I had some time before the next step, but not quite enough time to go home. And I was fairly hot, and had a feeling that if I was going to get through the rest of the day, I was going to need an iced latte. I started my car and steered it out of the parking lot, heading for Stubbs.