You're Dead to Me

By Amy Christine Parker

How do you unmask your own killer when everyone wants you dead?

"A twisty thriller with a bloody ending you’ll never see coming."—Kelly Coon, author of Gravemaidens

Ruby is a scholarship senior at elite Oleander High School with a chip on her shoulder and an attitude to match—which she puts to good use as the infamous local anonymous gossip blogger ReputationKiller. When she’s outed as the voice behind the account, the entire town turns against her.

But after she’s scared witless by a vision of her own ghost dressed in a blood-splattered prom dress, she is faced with an awful truth. Someone out there doesn’t just hate her—they want her dead.

With less than a week until the prom, Ruby starts investigating. Turns out Oleander Bay isn’t the picture-perfect resort town it appears to be. With so many secrets, scandals, and people hell-bent on covering them up at all costs, the murderer could be anyone. Can Ruby beat the clock counting down to prom—and her death—and survive the night?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Random House Children's Books
• Release date: Dec 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9780593650943

Book preview

Grayscale dotted blood spatter extending down the page. This art is present at the top of every part opener.

Friday

8 DAYS UNTIL PROM

Grayscale blood spatter dripping down on white background. This image displays at the start of every chapter in the book.

CHAPTER ONE

Choke

Bennett Library is the perfect place to stalk my next kill: public and full of witnesses. A behemoth of Spanish architecture, Oleander Bay Academy’s crowning jewel looms over me and my best friend, Anton. The stucco walls are bleached bone white under the unrelenting Florida sun. Heat rises off the pavement, making the entire building look like it’s underwater.

I’d rather be underwater right now. I swear, it’s one hundred degrees out here. A few straggler students inch their way toward the classroom buildings at a pace that would make a sloth look fast. It’s so quiet, I can hear Anton breathing beside me.

We have fifty minutes until this period ends, I say. Walk faster, please? I’m anxious to get inside the air-conditioned library before I faint dead away. May through September in Florida is miserable, like living on the surface of the sun.

Anton huffs out a breath and readjusts the handheld fan he’s always carrying, so it’s aimed at his underarms. Uh, no way, Ruby. Speed equals sweat, and sweat equals stinky pits. I’m not about to smell more than I have to.

We trudge to the library’s main entrance. Anton fiddles with one of his backpack straps. It’s covered in a brightly patterned scarf, one of a dozen personal touches he’s added to his daily look to detract from his school uniform. The only personal touch I’ve added to my look is the woven bracelet with a bear charm around my wrist, but it doesn’t really count as style since it’s ratty and frayed. My grandmother gave it to me when I was in ninth grade—one month before she died. I haven’t taken it off since.

Inside, we are surrounded by carved walnut bookshelves that spiral around the perimeter of the space like a nautilus shell. A cozy gathering spot called the Serenity Circle in the center of the room is filled with tufted leather sofas and antique side tables, and beyond it is the large staircase that leads to the second floor. Above us is a grand domed ceiling, purposefully aged so it appears to have been here for centuries, not decades. Like most of Oleander Bay, this building—and the people within it—consists of more lies than truths.

I angle Anton toward the tables directly across from the Serenity Circle. Each one holds several computers and a line of bronze reading lamps that cast circles of light on the spread of Prada and Gucci backpacks.

I slip into a chair and drop my backpack—a JanSport—beside me. Adrenaline buzzing, I grab my burner phone from the side pocket, unlock it, pull up the camera, and very casually aim it at my target. Click. Today’s kill will be my biggest yet, the crowning achievement of the past four years.

Magnus Bennett is holding court at the center of the Serenity Circle, his long legs sprawled out in front of him, his arms draped casually across the back of a sofa. Oleander Bay Academy’s most rarified students—who the rest of us call the Bling Brigade—have gathered around him like worshippers in a church service for their biweekly Honor Cabinet meeting. In their navy-blue-and-gray uniforms, they look like an army of Stepford Children, all perfectly styled hair and flashy white teeth.

Magnus is dressed to blend in, but even so, he stands out. It’s the air of utter confidence that radiates off him. He’s the son of Phillip Bennett, the most sought-after divorce attorney in town. We are in the library that was literally named in honor of his family’s generous donations. This is his realm.

Which is why I chose this spot to stalk him. I want him to know he’s vulnerable. No place is safe from me.

Click. I take a second picture of him in profile.

Magnus scans the library with narrowed eyes as he takes a sip from his iced coffee. I shoot a look at Anton and glance heavenward. He’s drinking a Guillermo, the trendiest coffee drink in town thanks to his influencer girlfriend, Violette. She was the first to post herself on social media with one the other day. It’s an espresso with milk and lime over ice. I think it sounds weird, but all the members of the Bling Brigade have one in their hands today.

Of course they do.

I suppress a groan.

By next week, the rest of the kids at school will be drinking them too. It’s idiotic. The Bling Brigade—and Magnus in particular—are the last people anyone should follow. Beneath their gilded popularity, they are shady as hell.

Like, Violette shoplifts when she thinks no one’s looking—mostly drugstore makeup that she can easily afford—then does high/low makeup comparison TikToks with her stolen goods. And Eddison, the boy who’s just finished high-fiving Magnus and is heading toward the downstairs bathrooms, terrorizes freshmen for sport, particularly the scholarship students. Once, he blackmailed one of the smartest kids at school to take the SATs for him—which is ironic, given his name.

Anton settles into the seat next to me and pulls up a YouTube video of the latest Balmain fashion show on his computer. His gaze flicks to the Bling Brigade. He lets out a low whistle.

Alexander’s looking tasty today, he says, his mouth quirking into a wicked smile.

I shift my gaze to Alexander Duquette, the newest addition to the Bling Brigade. He started at Oleander Bay Academy at the beginning of last year. Within seconds of entering town, he was absorbed into Magnus’s crowd because of his impressive family pedigree and bottomless wealth.

I silently curse my stupid stomach and the dumb lizard-brained part of me in control of it. Why does it insist on doing somersaults every time that boy comes into view?

He’s the second most popular person at school, but only because he’s chosen not to be first. He should be, based on looks alone, with those perfect golden curls and green eyes the color of sea glass. Magnus is objectively handsome, but Alexander is…practically otherworldly. Greek statue material.

He’s taken his uniform jacket off and his shirtsleeves are rolled up, so his tanned forearms are on full display. Beside him, his ex-girlfriend, Daphne, sits with her legs crossed primly at the ankles like she’s a member of the royal family or something. Her platinum blond hair gleams under the overhead lights, and her lips form the perfect pout. She strokes Alexander’s forearm with one manicured finger. So…maybe not his ex?

Okay. Stop, I order myself.

Alexander is not my target…Magnus is. Besides, it doesn’t matter how hot Alexander is. Magnus is one of his best friends, he’s dated pretty princess Daphne, and he’s a member of the Bling Brigade. That’s all the proof I need that this boy’s trouble.

I get online and pull up the day’s news, so it looks like I’m doing something other than spying. The first image is of the Mannequin Man, this creepy serial killer currently using Oleander Bay as his hunting grounds. It’s a freeze-frame of some security footage taken outside a gas station. The image is grainy and out of focus, but I can still make out his matte black mask made to look like a mannequin face and the black hoodie he wears. My heart squeezes in my chest, and I tighten my grip on the mouse. It’s as if he’s staring through the computer at me. He looks more like a slasher movie murderer than a real-life one, like Michael Myers or Ghostface—inhuman. So far his victims are all from my side of town, which is surreal because South Oleander has always been relatively safe—even if the Oleander Elite claim it isn’t.

The headline beneath the photo reads Mannequin Man Claims His Fifth Victim.

My palms start to sweat. Is it someone I know? Out of the first four victims he’s murdered, I’ve known two. Fernando, who owned a Cuban bakery a few miles from my house, and James, this kid I used to go to school with.

Anton leans closer so he can read over my shoulder. Crap. They found her in the South Oleander Mall parking lot.

Two gunshot wounds, I say. Like all the others—the head and heart.

I stare at the victim, who looks enough like my mom that I feel sick. She had a husband and two kids. Thinking about them makes me want to cry. I’ve lost people close to me too, in horrible ways. I was fifteen when I lost my grandparents, and I still miss them every day. If it was my mom in that parking lot? No. I don’t want to imagine it.

Anton shakes his head. Bet this’ll be enough to close the mall for good.

I sigh. Remember freshman year? When we camped out at the Barnes and Noble for hours, then stuffed ourselves with Cinnabons?

Anton laughs. And raced each other on those scooters that looked like stuffed animals? Yeah, I do.

The mall will be just another casualty now. The South Oleander I love is being destroyed piece by piece.

Suddenly Magnus lets out a laugh so loud it reverberates across the library.

I peer over my computer at the Bling Brigade again. They’re huddled together, talking quietly. From the conspiratorial looks on their faces, it’s obvious they’re up to something that might be worth recording—for future use. But no way my phone’s going to pick up anything from here.

I slip out of my seat, waving at Anton to stay put. We’ll attract attention together. With his mop of dark curls and glassy-smooth brown skin, he is straight-up pretty. Besides, he makes a point to stand out with his style—he wants to be noticed.

I am practically invisible to most people. I mean, I don’t consider myself plain or anything. I have a perfectly nice head of brown hair, and my eyes are hazel, same as Anton’s. But my goal is to be forgettable, one of the masses. It makes investigating people so much easier.

I head for the deserted bookshelves tucked under the staircase, closest to the Serenity Circle. I pretend I’m browsing and aim my phone camera at Magnus, who stretches languidly as he continues making cutting remarks to the Bling Brigade about the other students in the library, just loudly enough so most of the main floor overhears. As he talks, he strokes his collarbone with one hand, a self-satisfied gesture he probably thinks is sexy. It sets my teeth on edge. That boy is so confident in his indestructibility. He deserves what’s coming to him, and so does his father.

Enjoy your last day on top, I murmur.

Suddenly, a rustling sound breaks my concentration, coming from somewhere in the stacks. I glance down the row I’m in. No one’s there.

Swish.

I hear it again and lower my phone. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flicker of movement one row over. A blur of black material, the dull pounding of feet on carpet.

Hello? I ask in a low voice.

I rise on my toes so I can peer through the shelves. Someone rushes past on the other side, so fast I can’t tell who it is. They’ve got their sweatshirt hood pulled too far over their face.

EEEEE­EEEEE­E!

A girl with red hair rounds the corner and runs headlong at me, eyes wild. She slams me into the bookshelf. Hard. Pain blossoms across my upper arm, and I nearly drop my phone.

What the hell?

The girl shrieks again, louder, and keeps on running. Cursing softly, I rub my arm. A second later, the person in the hoodie turns down the aisle and comes straight for me. They’re wearing a featureless black mask, beetle-shell shiny, all hard angles…and carrying a gun. The hair on the back of my neck stands on end.

The Mannequin Man is here. In the school library. I’m frozen in place as he hurtles toward me.

This is it. I’m going to die.

This thought knifes through my brain as he stops abruptly, a few feet away.

Laughing softly, the Mannequin Man raises the gun and aims it at my head.

CHAPTER TWO

Dead to Me

Bang! You’re dead! the Mannequin Man hollers as he fires at me with desperate eagerness. The gun makes a clicking sound as it goes off. One of the bullets hits my temple…and bounces off.

Not a bullet. A Styrofoam dart.

Gotcha!

The Mannequin Man laughs in a decidedly un-serial-killer-like way and runs past me. His Nerf gun goes off several more times as a series of screams echoes through the library.

I let out a shaky breath and try to calm my rioting heart. I can’t stop trembling. Tears prick my eyes.

Whoever that was…

Anger quickly replaces my fear.

Jesus.

Only at Oleander Bay Academy would someone be this tone-deaf. I smooth my uniform shirt and grit my teeth. What idiot decides a serial killer is prank material? Given all the active-shooter drills we do—the constant low-grade fear that goes along with being in any school for an extended period—how dare they pull something like this?

I pick up the dart, adjust my uniform skirt, and then emerge from the stacks to find the Mannequin Man wannabe in the center of the library shooting darts at random people. The whole place is in an uproar. He manages to make one lap around the downstairs before the librarian, Mrs. Douglas, literally reaches out and catches him.

The other kids start cheering—except for the red-haired girl who ran into me. She’s wiping away tears and trembling violently. The prank really freaked her out, even more than me.

The fake Mannequin Man bows dramatically. I want to punch him so hard.

Mrs. Douglas folds her arms. Take off the mask.

He whips it off with a flourish. The man behind the mask…is Magnus’s friend Eddison. So that’s why he was headed to the bathroom earlier. To put on the serial-killer costume.

Do you realize how much trouble you are in, young man? Mrs. Douglas shakes her head. My office. Now.

Magnus gives Eddison a thumbs-up from his perch in the Serenity Circle. The rest of the Bling Brigade cheer. Eddison strikes a victorious pose before following Mrs. Douglas to her office.

I huff back into my seat next to Anton. How can this school have an Honor Cabinet when no one on it has any?

Anton barely acknowledges me. He’s too busy texting my other best friend—his boyfriend—Xavier, a blow-by-blow of what just happened.

The library’s front doors swing open, letting in a rush of humid air.

Sorry I’m late, Lizzie Cartwright, Daphne’s mom, singsongs as she strides into the center of the Serenity Circle. She’s dressed in bright-pink tennis clothes, smiling aggressively, her perfect white teeth on full display. But I’ve got great news. That venue change I’ve been working on for prom? It’s settled. Mitchell Caplan has agreed to host us on Eden, his private island! She makes a whew face and pretends to wipe her brow.

A murmur of approval runs through the Bling Brigade. Daphne throws her arms around Alexander. He barely looks up from the book he’s reading.

I aim my phone at him and zoom in to see the book’s title. The Troop by Nick Cutter.

Hold up. Anton stops texting. Did she just say prom is moving to Eden?

Looks like it, I say unenthusiastically. I couldn’t care less. I’m more intrigued by Alexander’s taste in fiction. Horror’s an odd choice for an elite.

Anton sucks in a breath. "Eden’s straight-up legendary. Tom Ford showed his last resort wear collection there. And at least half a dozen A-list celebrities have partied in the island’s private nightclub. It’s a replica of an eighteenth-century Catholic church. Antique stained glass windows and all. Crazy exclusive. There’s supposed to be a confessional booth inside."

Well, that’s on-brand, I say dryly. But why are they changing the venue when prom’s only a week away? Color me not impressed with Mitchell Caplan or his ultraexclusive island. He’s just some dumb North Oleander land developer with too much money.

Anton lowers his voice. The Mannequin Man killings have the parents all twitchy. And Eden is a freaking fortress. That’s why celebrities like it so much. He taps both feet on the floor excitedly. Oh my God, it’s going to match the theme perfectly. Wait till Xavier finds out.

I suppress a smile. This year’s prom theme is gothic romance. Anton’s been talking about it nonstop since the Bling Brigade announced it.

I watch Magnus’s girlfriend, Violette, record herself doing a little celebratory dance.

Except they’re not in any real danger, are they? I press. They don’t even have a police-enforced curfew in North Oleander. We do.

Anton shrugs. He’s engrossed in the Bling Brigade’s prom talk.

And I’ve already alerted our event planner to the change, Daphne is saying in that soft, sweet voice of hers. So all we have to do is get the word out to the rest of the senior class. She perches on the edge of Alexander’s chair and starts playing with his curls. He not-so-subtly leans forward, out of range. A flash of hurt crosses her face, but she recovers quickly.

So…definitely not back together.

Violette pipes in. I’ll put an announcement out on the school’s socials. And mine.

Mrs. Cartwright shakes her head. Not yours, Violette. We don’t want the whole world to know. Discretion is always best.

Magnus lifts an eyebrow and smiles at this. I raise my phone and snap a pic of him and that stupid smirk. It’s the exact image I came in here to get.

You’re toast, I murmur.

Eddison reemerges from Mrs. Douglas’s office, his grin still firmly in place. By comparison, Mrs. Douglas looks downright pissed as he saunters back to the Bling Brigade.

Wait. This can’t be happening.

I make my way to the circulation desk, where Mrs. Douglas is jabbing viciously at computer keys. Why isn’t Eddison going to see Principal Kang? I demand. Shouldn’t he be getting suspended right now?

Mrs. Douglas’s jaw clenches. That’s not your concern, Ruby.

Yeah, it is, I argue. He shot at me. I—it freaked me out and it freaked out that other girl too. She left here crying. How is that okay?

Mrs. Douglas looks up sharply. Ruby, don’t.

Don’t what? I ask. Demand consequences? I blow out a frustrated breath. He probably got his daddy to call the school and smooth it all over with a giant donation. Right?

Mrs. Douglas’s reaction is proof enough that if I’m not right exactly, I’m in the ballpark.

I laugh bitterly. Of course he did. It’s what they all do. I’m so irritated, I don’t realize I’m practically shouting.

Ruby, go back to class, Mrs. Douglas says sharply, an unspoken warning in her eyes. What happens to Eddison isn’t your concern.

Let’s go. Anton’s beside me now, tugging on my arm.

We head for the front door, but Magnus, Violette, Daphne, and Eddison are all gathered there.

Do you have a problem with us? Magnus asks.

I curse under my breath. Great work, Ruby. Calling attention to yourself. Brilliant.

Yeah, I do, I say. You think terrorizing people is funny.

I can feel the whole library staring at me. My cheeks start to burn. I reshoulder my backpack and tuck my burner phone into my pocket. Did any of them notice it?

It was a joke. Magnus’s smile is patronizing. Don’t you have a sense of humor?

It wasn’t funny.

He smirks and shoots a look at Eddison, who starts to laugh.

"I thought it was very funny," he says.

Violette giggles.

The only one of them not laughing is Alexander. He’s still in the Serenity Circle, nose deep in his book. I don’t think he’s even noticed his friends left him alone. And of course, Daphne’s mom is suddenly nowhere to be found.

Ruby Toller—that’s your name, right? Daphne gives me a withering once-over that makes me painfully aware that my uniform isn’t perfectly tailored to my body the way hers is, that the skirt is a bit faded, and I’ve got a safety pin holding the waistband in place instead of the button that’s supposed to be there. Doesn’t your family own that weird little tourist trap near the Everglades?

Oh right, the Oleander Wonderpark, Eddison says, his smirk growing. It’s the Walmart of zoos.

The rest of the Bling Brigade stare at me with matching expressions of disdain. I know what they’re thinking. The Wonderpark is a ridiculous old-timey attraction, a place for tourists too poor to afford Disney World. They think I’m a redneck. They hate that someone like me goes to school with them.

Alexander finally looks up. Leave her alone. His gaze meets mine briefly before flitting back to his book.

Magnus holds up his hands. Hey, I’m just honestly curious, that’s all. I mean, a place like that—how does it still exist?

I square my shoulders. Lots of people like our park, I lie. We’re at capacity most days.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Anton stiffen.

Magnus’s smile widens. Really? My father says the place is nearly bankrupt.

At the mention of his father, I clench my fists. I can’t help it.

Anton moves between Magnus and me. Shut your mouth. Right now, he orders Magnus. Before I shut it for you.

What are you gonna do? Magnus sneers. Hit me? You might break a nail.

Mrs. Douglas pushes between all of us.

Enough! Ruby, Anton, go to class. The rest of you, back to the Serenity Circle until the bell rings. I mean it. She looks completely flustered. I get it. How do you act like you have any power when these kids could get you fired?

Run along now, Magnus says softly to Anton and me, his smile broadening.

And I want to hit him so badly.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

CHAPTER THREE

How You Like That

It’s humiliating, walking away, but I hold my head high all the way to the back exit of the library. I can feel the Bling Brigade watching me, but I force myself not to turn around. If I do, I might throw a book at Magnus’s head.

They suck, Anton murmurs as he falls into step beside me. But you got the photo you needed, right?

I walk at a leisurely pace. I’m not running away. Or backing down from a fight. I’m preparing a counterattack. Magnus should have never brought up the Wonderpark or his stupid dad. Phillip Bennett screwed over my mom before I was born. He made sure that when she divorced her abusive North Oleander ex-husband, Stephen, she left with nothing but the clothes on her back. She wasn’t even twenty-five at the time and was pregnant with me.

I don’t start breathing again until we’re out of the Bling Brigade’s sight.

I don’t care how wealthy that boy is. Anton sniffs. He can’t buy his way out of asshole-ville. And I could’ve taken him. Did you get a look at his hands? Baby soft. Bet he’s never been in a physical fight in his life.

I’m barely listening. My gaze is glued to the elevator beside the back exit. At the last minute, I hurry into it.

We’re not leaving? Anton asks.

No. I pull him in after me and smash the second-floor button.

The upstairs section of the library is mostly made up of computer labs and reference books. Since it’s nearing the end of seventh period, it’s deserted.

Perfect.

I walk straight to the balcony railing, keeping close to the wall, where I can see the Bling Brigade. Magnus and the others are finally settled back on their sofas in the Serenity Circle. I’m sure they’ll camp out until the dismissal bell rings, going over prom details and laughing at Anton and me.

Well, they won’t be laughing for much longer.

I pull out my burner phone and tilt the blackened screen toward me. My reflection appears, haloed by the overhead lights.

Someone’s behind me.

I jerk around, my adrenaline pumping.

But it’s only Anton, standing a little too close.

Damn, Anton. You scared the crap out of me, I say, my breath coming out in a rush.

Dark corners for dark deeds, Anton says in a stage whisper.

"Stop quoting Love Actually while I’m preparing for a character assassination, I say. It ruins the mood."

Nice. Anton gives me an appraising look. My sass—and love of rom-coms—have thoroughly rubbed off on you. Now tell me why exactly are we up here?

I unlock the phone. I want to see Magnus’s face when everyone finds out what he’s done.

Anton gives me a look.

What? I say a little defensively. They think we’ve left the library, so we’re safe.

He shakes his head. Never posting while in proximity to the target of said post has always been your rule, remember? To eliminate any risk of being found out.

He’s right. This is my rule, the only one I really have. Anonymity is key to what I do. If the Bling Brigade or any other Oleander Elites figure out I’m behind these kills, I lose my ability to launch any further investigations. All my current connections to them—the disgruntled housekeepers, landscapers, spa technicians, personal assistants, and nannies—will cut me off. I’ll stop getting anonymous messages with helpful leads.

But…

The thing is, it’s May, nearly the end of senior year. This is probably my last kill anyway, and it’s major. I haven’t spent the last few weeks tailing Magnus and watching his pool house for hours at a time from the top of a very uncomfortable tree not to be here to witness his undoing.

Ruby, it’s not just the investigations that get jeopardized. Anton’s voice is thick with concern. "If they find out you’re the one behind Reputation Killer you’re screwed. Bye-bye graduation. You’re crazy if you think their parents won’t get you expelled then sue your ass. And your college acceptances could get revoked." Anton looks genuinely worried.

I shrug. "I’d be scared if I weren’t already