(Malory)
Thankfully, Kyle has chosen to sit in the front seat while Olivia and I take the back. Ron drives off with a honk of his horn and, soon enough, we’re out of the street. Olivia, Ron and Kyle are talking but I don’t really know what to say. I’ve been trying to act as normal as I could, but I’m sitting in the backseat of a friend’s car, conscious of the murderer in the passenger’s seat.
“Mal,” Ron says, I hum in response, “Why are you so quiet?”
Kyle glances across to his right slightly to look at me for just a brief moment.
“I’m just feeling guilty is all,” I say. “Guilty that I didn’t get you a birthday gift.”
Ron’s fingers tap on the steering wheel. “Hmmm, but I know how you can make it up to me.”
“You do?” I ask, sitting up a bit straighter. I look at him
