The Dead List by Jennifer L. Armentrout

Blood whooshed across my face. Before Gavin and I tried to do the couple thing, we had been best friends. When we were eight-years-old, he helped me rescue a box turtle with a cracked shell that we’d found in Back Creek. For Halloween one year, we dressed up as Jack and Jill. And when my grandmother passed away my freshman year, he’d brought me a plate full of red velvet cupcakes and didn’t wig out when I started crying.
    And when the entire town had been turned upside down while we were in the seventh grade, he’d been there right along with me. I would never, ever forget that.
    “I’ll be careful,” I said, hugging him back just as tightly. “I promise.”
    We broke apart then, promising to call each other later, and when I got in my car, I glanced out my window to see him still standing there. I wiggled my fingers.
    Gavin waved back.
    For the hundredth time since we broke up, I wished so hard that things hadn’t been so easy with him, that I felt more, because he was a good guy—a great guy. And as I pulled out of the parking lot, I wished I was seeing him later tonight, curling up on the couch together and watching stupid movies. I could really use him right now and if I asked, he’d be there, but that wasn’t fair. The last thing I wanted to do was mislead him if he still had more than friendly feelings. Our relationship hadn’t been the same since we broke up, and I’d give anything for it to go back to the way it was before we dated. Back to middle school actually, when we had this perfect, little group of friends.
    But no one could travel back in time.
    And I was no longer so incredibly naïve. My childhood friends—the four of us. We hadn’t been perfect. None of us. Far from it.
    #
    Traffic came to a complete standstill on Route 11. Stuck behind a fleet of orange buses, I wanted to bang my head off the steering wheel. Ms. Reed hadn’t given me an exact time to show up, but I also didn’t want this person waiting around forever for me.
    When I finally reached the turn on Airport Road, I almost missed it, having to hook a sharp right onto a narrow two lane road crowded by single family rancher homes that all looked identical. I winced as my tires squealed and an older gentleman out watering his grass sent me a sharp look when his head jerked up.
    Perhaps I also needed driving lessons.
    Glancing at the street number on the address given to me, I frowned as I slowed down to a crawl, following the road. Up ahead, the houses all but disappeared, replaced by a restaurant that appeared to be in an old plane hanger. The only other building was a giant gray warehouse situated to the left, surrounded by fields full of yellowy reeds.
    My stomach took a tumble as I parked my Jetta near a dark blue truck that looked vaguely familiar. Too nervous to pay it much attention, I took my sunglasses off since the sun had all but disappeared and picked up the crumbled piece of paper, along with my cellphone, holding both tight in my grasp as I stepped out.
    Wind whipped across the parking lot, stirring my loose hair. There were a few cars spotted through the lot, but as I stared at the darkened doors leading to the warehouse, my feet felt like they were cemented to the ground.
    The place looked foreboding and empty, a perfect place to host a Halloween haunt in October and, pretty much the last place I wanted to enter.
    Chills radiated up and down my back and a strange sort of pressure clamped down on my chest, squeezing my lungs until air wheezed in my throat, much like Saturday night when hands had circled my—
    “Stop,” I gasped out, swallowing hard. “Stop it right now.
    Talking out loud was a sure sign of veering into cray-cray land, but I forced my heart to slow down and my feet to move. Clenching the phone to my chest, I crossed the parking lot.
    The dark glass doors opened before I reached them and two older guys stepped out, gym bags flung over their shoulders. I had to be in the right place, but there