Sara Shepard - Toxic

“So,” Emily said once she found her voice. “I—I missed you.”

Jordan swallowed hard. A tear ran down her cheek. “I missed you, too.”

“I’m so glad you wrote to me.” Emily smiled at Jordan so hard her cheeks hurt. “I mean, all I do is think about you.”

“Same.” Jordan stared bashfully at the tabletop.

Emily’s heart did flips. I’m so glad you don’t hate me , she wanted to say a thousand times. “Are you . . . okay?” she asked instead, then wanted to slap herself. Of course Jordan wasn’t okay. She was in prison.

Jordan shrugged, twisting her mouth in that adorable way Emily remembered. “I’ve been better. But it’s not that bad.” She leaned forward a little. “What about you ? I had no idea what you were going through, Em. It sounds awful. You’re okay now, right? Everything’s good?”

Now it was Emily’s turn to look down. A lot of people had inked their initials into the wood, including someone who called himself or herself FlameGirl. “Not exactly.”

Jordan’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

Emily winced. She hadn’t planned on getting into this in the limited time she and Jordan had together, but now Jordan was staring at her plaintively. Emily had no choice but to explain how Ali had attacked her at the pool. She left out a lot of the details—like how Ali had said Say you still love me! —but by Jordan’s stunned expression, it was clear she got the gist.

Jordan’s jaw dropped when Emily finished. She gestured to the bruises on Emily’s neck. “Is that what those are from?”

Emily nodded miserably. Her parents had asked a lot of questions about the bruises, too; she hadn’t known what to tell them.

“Did you go to the police?” Jordan asked.

“We did, but they don’t believe us. They still think she’s dead.” She sighed and stared at the ceiling. The lights in the room were so bright they hurt her eyes.

“So what are you going to do?”

There was a tinny taste in Emily’s mouth. Just rehashing the attack brought all her feelings of frustration, fear, and rage to the surface. This needed to end . “Find her,” she whispered savagely. “And kill her.”

Jordan paled. She glanced across the room at the guards. Both women didn’t seem to be paying attention, but suddenly, Emily felt wrong-footed. What was she doing talking about murder in a prison?

“I’m not serious,” she backpedaled. “I just get so mad.”

Jordan nodded, but she still looked concerned. “I wish you didn’t have to find her on your own.”

“So do I, but we don’t know what else to do.”

“Just promise me you’ll stay safe.” Jordan reached forward to grab Emily’s hand, but then she remembered the no-touching rule and pulled away. “Because I have some news. I have a new lawyer named Charlie Klose. There are some loopholes in my case that he wants to pursue.”

Emily cocked her head. “Like what?”

“I wasn’t read my Miranda rights either time I was arrested, for one thing.” Jordan drummed her ragged nails on the table. “And they searched my car without a warrant, and they mistreated me when I was still a minor. Serious stuff, actually. Combined with the fact that I’m repentant and willing to repay for all the damage I’ve done, he thinks I have a really good chance of getting off on parole.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

Jordan grinned excitedly. “There might still have to be a trial, but he’s really positive.” She slid her hand forward and touched the very tip of Emily’s fingers. “In a few months, I might be a free woman.”

Emily leaned forward eagerly. “And . . . then what? For you and me, I mean?” She hoped it wasn’t a premature question to ask. Jordan had so newly forgiven her, after all. Maybe they needed to take things slow.

Jordan offered a tiny smile. “I want there to be a you and me, Emily. For real. But it can’t be on an island, like we talked about before—not if I’m on parole. I’ll have to stay around here and check in with my parole officer. I want to stay on the straight and narrow this time—really build a life and start over.” She looked at Emily shyly. “With you . . . if you’re up for that.”

“Of course I am,” Emily bleated emphatically. She let it sink in. A life. With Jordan. It was something she hadn’t dared to hope for even days ago. She shut her eyes and pictured her and Jordan waking up every day together. Jordan was right: They didn’t need to be in a tropical paradise to be happy. Just being with her was paradise enough.

“So I need you to stay safe,” Jordan added, clasping her hands together. “Will you? For me?”

Emily nodded fast. “Of course. Cross my heart.”

“Good,” Jordan said.

“Time!” The loud voice stopped Emily’s heart. The guard lumbered toward the table and extended her arm toward Jordan.

Jordan glanced at Emily, her expression both hungry and tortured. Before she could stop herself, Emily shot forward, pulled Jordan toward her, and kissed her hard on the lips. Her mouth was soft and tasted as minty and delicious as always. Emily closed her eyes, savoring the milliseconds of contact. Every cell in her body seemed to reawaken.

But then the guard pulled Jordan away. “No touching ,” she grumbled, holding Jordan tightly by the arm and pulling her out of the room.

Jordan waved good-bye, shuffling out the door. Emily watched her go, feeling both wrenched and happy at the same time. The kiss still tingled on her lips. The heat of Jordan’s body seemed to radiate within her. She would have to hold on to those feelings, she knew, until next time. But there was going to be a next time—she could feel it. Jordan was going to get out.

And they were going to be together.

On Tuesday night, Hanna stood in the aisle of the Amtrak Acela train as it creaked and wobbled into Penn Station in New York City. The doors opened, and she followed the line of weary travelers toward the escalators, careful not to trip in her five-inch stiletto heels. She was also careful to pull the hem so that her sequined miniskirt covered her butt. A bunch of passengers in business suits had given her outfit strange looks, probably because she’d paired it with the dramatic shoes, a sparkly clutch, and some enormous sunglasses that she was still wearing even though the sun had set. She didn’t mind the looks, though, because she was going out on the town with Hailey Blake, movie starlet extraordinaire. Hanna had tried to work it into every conversation on the train—with the ticket collector, with the older woman sitting next to her, and even with the man who served her a Diet Coke in the café car.

She reached the top of the escalator, elbowed through the teeming crowd of people waiting for outbound trains, and spilled onto Seventh Avenue, momentarily overwhelmed by the rush of people, cabs and buses, and neon lights. Someone supporting the pro-life movement stood at the curb, holding a placard talking about when a baby’s heartbeat began in the womb. Someone else passed by pushing a pretzel cart. Then, through the crowd, Hanna saw another sign: ALI CATS UNITE! She blinked hard, trying to find it again through the sea of bodies.

But it was gone.

“Hey, bitch! Over here!”

Hanna’s head swiveled to the left. A white stretch limo was parked behind a pretzel cart. Hailey, her blond hair streaming, waved wildly out the back window. “Stop acting like a lost tourist and get in here, crazy girl!”

Hanna jogged over, her heart doing a flip. It was still hard to believe that the Hailey Blake had sent her a text last night that said, Hey, I’m in NYC tomorrow doing press interviews—wanna come up after your scenes and meet me? We can hit the kill or be killed premiere party! Hanna was never going to delete that text as long as she lived. Kill or Be Killed was only the most hyped movie out that summer—she couldn’t believe she was lucky enough to be there.