Circle of Silence

Chapter 11 (#litres_trial_promo)

Part Two (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 12 (#litres_trial_promo)

You Have Kindled a Fire (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 13 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 14 (#litres_trial_promo)

Power Is Pleasure (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 15 (#litres_trial_promo)

Fear Is Maintained (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 16 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 17 (#litres_trial_promo)

Power Is Not a Means (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 18 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 19 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 20 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 21 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 22 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 23 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 24 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 25 (#litres_trial_promo)

Part 3 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 26 (#litres_trial_promo)

The Blood-Dimmed Tide (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 27 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 28 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 29 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 30 (#litres_trial_promo)

Yet Understand (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 31 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 32 (#litres_trial_promo)

Chapter 33 (#litres_trial_promo)

Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)

Acknowledgments (#litres_trial_promo)

PROLOGUE

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea…

The words keep time with my pounding heart. Dashing, darting…hurtling forward. It’s like a nightmare. Chasing after the school bus, the train, a minivan. No matter how fast I run, I can’t get there in time. I’m left stranded, alone, surrounded by abandoned warehouses, darkened streets and smelly drunks….

This isn’t a dream. I know where I’m going. I just can’t move fast enough.

Jagger. Jags! I asked you not to do this. Begged you…

My cheeks feel wet. How did I not see the approaching storm? But the streets aren’t slick and the pitter-patter of rain does not mingle with the sound of my feet slapping against rough cobblestones.

I touch my face. Taste the droplet. Salty…

That’s when I know I’ll be too late. Instinct, ESP or maybe just plain terror breaks through. Because it’s my fault. I pushed too hard; it went too far.

Whatever terrible thing I am about to see, I could have stopped. No matter what anyone tells me, no matter who insists, “You can’t blame yourself,” I will always know, deep down, that it’s a lie.

PART ONE

SEPTEMBER–OCTOBER

1

My sweaty palm pushes the Media Center door open on the second day of senior year. The single most important class of my life is about to begin.

“Don’t look so worried, Val,” Marci tells me. “We got this covered.”

I give my best friend since eighth grade a pained look. Sunny Marci. Always seeing the bright side. Except this time, she’s especially naive. There’s no way it’s a sure thing.

Together, we move to the table Mr. Carleton assigned to us. Yesterday, he divided the class into two permanent Campus News teams. First order of business today: each crew votes for producer. The job I covet. The position I worked really hard, during both sophomore and junior years at Washington Irving High School, to get. If mine, it could propel me straight into the college of my dreams.

I steal a glance at my competition. Raul Ortega. His dark chocolate eyes take everything in. Taller by about three inches than me, he wears his hair in a brush cut that tops a solid body. Raul’s definitely the guy you want on your side in a fight. Not that he’s a hothead. On the contrary, the dude’s cool. He knows his way around TV Production almost as well as I do. Exactly the reason he might get more votes than me.