She raises her pink neon goggles to her helmet but doesn’t say anything. She has the most amazing eyes. I’ve seen them in photos, but they’re bluer in real life—even more so than her brother’s.

I tighten my binding, putting all my strength into it because I don’t want it to come loose again. I had to borrow a screwdriver from some guy at the top earlier.

“Want me to tighten that for you?” Curtis says.

“Do I look like I have a problem with my arms?” It comes out before I can help it. Rude, I know, but would I seriously be up here if I can’t tighten my own bloody bindings?

Fighting a smile, he looks me up and down. “I don’t see any problems at all.”

My cheeks burn. I hand the screwdriver back. And notice a rip in his lower leg. “Oh God, I tore your trousers.”

His smile widens. “Hey, don’t worry about it. I don’t pay for them. You can fall on me anytime.”

Is this guy a complete flirt or what? In front of his sister as well!

“It’s weird,” I say. “Because that’s the second time my bindings came loose today.” He’s making me babble.

His smile fades. “Really?” He turns to his sister.

Why’s he looking at her like that?

Saskia smooths her hair over her shoulders. “Must be the warmer weather. The holes in her base have expanded or something.”

“You’re giving my sister a run for her money today,” Curtis tells me, still looking at her. “She’s pulling stuff I didn’t know she could do.”

Saskia’s face darkens. Maybe I’m not as far behind her as I think.

She shoves out her hand. “Hi. I’m Saskia.”

“I’m Milla.”

She breaks into a grin. “I know. Are you coming out tonight? Glow Bar’s running a pre-comp party.”

I hesitate. “I don’t normally go out before a comp.”

Saskia tilts her head. “Why? Are you scared?”

I curse inwardly. “No. I’ll be there.”

CHAPTER 5

PRESENT DAY

In the freezing function room, we pass the “secrets” around. They’re all written in the same neat capitals.

“What’s going on?” Curtis’s voice is dangerously quiet.

A sea of puzzled faces. Dale clenches and unclenches his fists; Brent throttles the neck of his beer bottle. Heather’s eyes flit from corner to corner.

Whoever was behind the game, I don’t think it was Curtis after all. Nobody could fake that simmering anger, surely, and he wouldn’t have said those things about his sister.

He grabs the box and gives it a vicious shake. Wishing he could do the same to us, clearly. Shake us hard enough to get some answers.