The ambulance stopped out of sight of the windows, but its lights flashed an angry red against the dull brown brick, declaring an optimistic urgency I knew to be unnecessary.

Meredith Cole was dead, and no matter how long they worked on her, she wasn’t coming back. That bitter certainty ate at me, consuming me from the inside out until I felt hollow enough to echo with each aching thump of my heart.

While the medics worked outside, teachers came and went from the cafeteria, occasionally answering questions from anyone brave enough to speak up, and at some point, the senior guidance counselor pulled up a chair at the jocks’ table and began speaking softly to those who’d been close enough to actually see Meredith fall.

Eventually, the vice principal came over the intercom and declared that the school day had been officially suspended, and that we would all be dismissed individually, once our legal guardians had been contacted. By that time, the red lights had stopped flashing, and though no one had yet made the announcement, it echoed around us like all-important truths, unvoiced, and unwanted, and unavoidable.

After that, the first group of students was called to the office and Emma leaned against me while I leaned against Nash, letting his scent and his warmth soothe me as I settled in for the wait. But minutes later, Coach Tucker stopped in the cafeteria doorway and scanned the faces until her gaze landed on me. I sat up as she navigated the maze of tables, heading right for us, and stood when she reached out a hand to pull me up, barely sparing a glance for Nash and Emma when they rose. “The dancers are understandably upset, and we’re calling their parents first. Sophie’s not taking it well. Her sponsor spoke to your mother, and they’d like you to go ahead and take your sister home.”

I sighed, grateful when Nash’s hand slid into mine again. “She’s my cousin.”

Coach Tucker frowned, as if details like that shouldn’t matter under the circumstances. She was right, but I couldn’t bring myself to apologize.

“Don’t worry about your books.” She eyed me sternly now. “Just get her home.”

I nodded, and the coach headed back through the cafeteria, motioning for me to follow. “I’ll talk to you guys later,” I said, glancing from Emma to Nash as I squeezed his hand. She smiled weakly, and he nodded, digging his phone from his pocket.

I’d just stepped into the hall, heading toward the office, when my own phone buzzed. A glance at the screen showed a blinking text message icon. It was from Nash.

Don’t tell anyone. Will explain soon.

A moment later, a follow-up message arrived. It was one word: Please.

I didn’t reply, because I didn’t know what to say. No one would believe me if I tried to explain what had happened. But the premonitions were real, and they were accurate. Silence no longer seemed like an option, especially if there was any chance I could stop the next one from coming true.

If I could at least give the next victim a warning—and maybe a fighting chance—wasn’t I morally obligated to do just that?

Besides, hadn’t Nash suggested I tell my aunt and uncle the day before?

“Kaitlin! Over here.” I glanced up to find Mrs. Foley waving me forward from the atrium outside the front office. Sophie sat on the floor behind her, beneath the foliage of a huge potted plant, surrounded by half a dozen other red, mascara-smeared faces.

“It’s Kaylee,” I muttered, coming to a stop in front of the stunned dancers.

“Of course.” But the sponsor didn’t look like she cared what my name was. “I’ve spoken to your mother—” but I didn’t bother to tell her that would be impossible without a Ouija board “—and she wants you to take Sophie straight home. She’s going to meet you there.”

I nodded, and ignored the sympathetic hand the dance-team sponsor placed momentarily on my shoulder, as if to thank me for sharing some venerable burden. “You ready?” I asked in my cousin’s general direction, and to my surprise, she bobbed her head in assent, stood with her purse in hand, and followed me across the quad without betraying a single syllable of malicious intent.

She must have been in shock.

In the parking lot, I unlocked the passenger’s side door, then went around to let myself in. Sophie slid into her seat and pulled the door closed, then turned to face me slowly, her normally arrogant expression giving way to what could only be described as abject grief.

“Did you see it?” she asked, full lower lip quivering, and for once absent of lip gloss. She must have wiped it all off, along with the tears and most of her makeup. She looked almost…normal. And I couldn’t help the pang of sympathy her misery drew from me, in spite of the bitch-itude she radiated every other day of my life. For now, she was just scared, confused, and hurting, looking for a compassionate ear.

Just like me.

And it kind of stung that I couldn’t totally let my guard down with her, because I had no doubt that once her grief had passed, Sophie would go all Mean Girls on me again, and use against me whatever I’d shown her. “See what?” I sighed, adjusting the rearview mirror so I could watch her indirectly.

My cousin rolled her eyes, and for a moment her usual intolerance peeked through the fresh layer of raw sorrow. “Meredith. Did you see what happened?”

I turned the key in the ignition, and my little Sunfire hummed to life, the steering wheel vibrating beneath my hands. “No.” I felt no great loss over having missed the show; the preview was quite enough to deal with.

“It was horrible.” She stared straight out the windshield as I buckled my seat belt and pulled the car from the parking lot, but she obviously saw nothing. “We were dancing, just showing off for Scott and the guys. We’d made it through all the hard parts, including that step where Laura usually skips a beat in practice….”

I had no idea what step she was talking about, but I let her ramble on, because it seemed to make her feel better without putting me on the figurative chopping block.

“…and were nearly done. Then Meredith just…collapsed. She crumpled up like a doll and fell flat on the ground.”

My hands clenched the steering wheel, and I had to force them loose to flick on my blinker. I turned right at the stop-light, exhaling only once the school—and thus the source of my latest premonition—was out of sight. And still Sophie prattled on, airing her grief in the name of therapy, completely oblivious to my discomfort.

“I thought she’d passed out. She doesn’t eat enough to keep a hamster alive, you know.”

I hadn’t known, of course. I didn’t typically concern myself with the eating habits of the varsity dance squad. But if Meredith’s appetite was anything like my cousin’s—or my aunt’s, for that matter—Sophie’s assumption was perfectly plausible.

“But then we realized she wasn’t moving. She wasn’t even breathing.” Sophie paused for a moment, and I treasured the silence like that first gulp of air after a deep dive. I didn’t want to hear any more about the death I’d been unable to prevent. I felt guilty enough already. But she wasn’t done. “Peyton thinks she had a heart attack. Mrs. Rushing told us in health last year that if you work your body too hard and don’t fuel it up right, your heart will eventually stop working. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers, and the glitter in her nail polish flashed in the bright sunlight. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

It took me a moment to realize her question wasn’t rhetorical. She was actually asking my opinion about something, and there was no sarcasm involved.

“I don’t know.” I glanced in the rearview mirror as I turned onto our street, and wasn’t surprised to see Aunt Val’s car on the road behind us. “Maybe.” But that was an outright lie. Meredith Cole was the third teenage girl to drop dead with no warning in the past three days, and while I wasn’t about to voice my suspicions out loud—at least not yet—I could no longer tell myself the deaths weren’t connected.