I turned off the water and wrung out my hair. It wasn’t as long as Girl Sam’s, but it was growing. I thought that maybe I’d grow it really long this year, and even put some streaks in it like Sam’s; I wondered what my mom would say about that. Smirking, I turned toward the dressing area . . . and my heart leaped into my throat.

The shower had steamed up the glass door.

In the steam, I saw the message.

HELP ME

FIND BILLY

I jumped back against the wet tile wall, terrified.

Gooseflesh worked its way up my arms. Naked and held hostage by the words, blood pumping double time, I stepped forward and used my palm to quickly wipe away the message, like it’d mean it hadn’t been there, then pushed so hard on the glass door that the handle hit the wall when it opened.

I was glad for the hair dryer because I sobbed in fear as I found my phone and texted Aunt Maureen to come and get me. I needed to get away from this place.

I toweled off and dressed as fast as I could, my clothes sticking to my still-damp skin, not wanting to pull up or lie flat in the right spots. My wet hair soaked the back of my T-shirt as I shoved everything I wasn’t wearing into the beach bag.

The hair dryer shut off, and wiping tears from my eyes, I waited for the other person to leave, fearfully glancing over my shoulder to see if a new message had somehow appeared.

The steam was fading, the spot I’d erased still there. There was nothing new.

I rushed out of the locker room, head down, nerves electric. Wiping at my face again, I pushed through the double doors to the lobby and told the front desk worker to tell Karly I went home sick. I’d probably get in trouble for not telling her myself, but I didn’t care.

Turning toward the main entrance, I ran smack into Izzy, hitting him hard. My forehead smashed into his cheekbone and made a thunk that didn’t sound or feel good.

“Whoa, Tess, what’s the rush?” he asked, touching his cheek gingerly.

“I didn’t see you,” I said, rubbing my forehead.

“I know,” he said, wincing. “I was just looking for you . . . Want to play Ping-Pong?”

“I’m leaving,” I said, adding, “I’m sick.”

“Oh bummer,” he said. “Maybe I’ll text you later?”

All I could think of was the message.

HELP ME

FIND BILLY

“Is that okay?” Izzy asked, but I didn’t answer. I wanted him to go away because everything was buzzing.

HELP ME

FIND BILLY

“I have to go,” I said, starting toward the door.

“Okay, see ya,” Izzy said, disappointment in his voice.