Chapter 15: The Burn Book

Aveline’s POV

Crestwood Academy had two kinds of students, the rich psychopaths and the people pretending they weren’t rich psychopaths. Unfortunately, the hockey team belonged to the first category. I realised that Wednesday morning when somebody taped a picture of Titan the mascot onto my locker with the words: CARDIAC CARTER SURVIVES ANOTHER DAY. Underneath it, someone had drawn a tiny gravestone.

I ripped the paper down hard enough for it to tear in half. Behind me, Milo Hayes nearly choked on his drink laughing. “Damn,” he wheezed. “You’ve officially made it.”

I turned slowly. “One day, Milo, somebody’s going to hit you with their car.”

“Probably.” He grinned. “But not before lunch.”

Landon snorted beside him while Kieran didn’t laugh at all. He stood leaning against the lockers in his practice jacket, staring at the ripped paper in my hand with a look I couldn’t quite read. Guilt? Anger? Recognition? Then his eyes lifted to mine and there it was again. That weird tension. Things had become painfully strange between us. We avoided each other constantly, which somehow only made us more aware of each other. It was exhausting.

Kieran cleared his throat roughly and looked away first. Theo appeared beside me moments later, shoulder bumping mine lightly. “You okay?”

“I’m debating murder.”

“That bad, huh?”

I held up the torn paper. Theo’s smile vanished instantly. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

His jaw tightened. “Ignore them.” Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the mascot everyone treated like a joke. I shoved the paper into my bag. “I do ignore them.”

Theo gave me a look. “No, you survive them.”

That hit harder than I expected. Before I could answer, Coach Hale’s voice echoed through the hallway. “Practice in ten! Move!”

The hallway exploded into motion immediately. Players rushed toward the rink, Milo almost crashed into a freshman, Landon started yelling about missing tape, and chaos swallowed the corridor whole. Typical Crestwood.

I followed behind the team quietly, hands shoved into my pockets, when my phone buzzed. Not my phone. Asher’s phone. I’d started carrying it around mostly to search through messages and contacts whenever I got the chance. So far there had been nothing useful. Just school chats, hockey schedules, and Daphne sending aesthetic coffee pictures for some reason.

I unlocked the screen absently while walking and froze. Unknown Account: check crestwoodburnbook My stomach tightened instantly. What the hell was that? I glanced around quickly. Nobody looked suspicious. Kieran was arguing with Milo ahead, Theo was distracted, tying his hoodie around his waist, and Cassian walked separately from everyone else, as if he existed in another universe entirely.

I clicked the link. A private anonymous hockey gossip page loaded instantly. Black background. White text. A flaming hockey stick logo at the top. CRESTWOOD BURN BOOK.

My pulse kicked harder as post after post filled the screen. Photos. Rumors. Anonymous confessions. Cruel jokes. Most targeted hockey players. Some were stupid. Some were vicious. Then I saw Asher’s name My breathing stopped.

Mascot Carter was seen crying outside the rink again. Maybe somebody finally told him he’ll never actually play.

Another post.

At this point, somebody should bench Carter permanently before his heart explodes dramatically

Another

How many pills does Asher Carter take daily? Asking for scientific reasons.

Rage hit me so fast my vision blurred. What the hell? I scrolled faster. There were dozens. Pictures of Asher sitting alone. Walking through campus. One blurry photo showed him holding his ribs outside the rink while comments underneath laughed about it.

My hands shook violently around the phone. This wasn’t harmless gossip. This was targeted. Cruel. Obsessive. And suddenly I understood something horrifying. Asher had been publicly humiliated for months. Maybe longer. No wonder he looked exhausted in those final weeks. he started hiding things. I kept scrolling until another name appeared repeatedly.

Cassian Thorne. The posts about him were different. Ask Cassian what happened to his brother. Somebody should remind Thorne that violence has consequences.

Oliver deserved better than what happened to him. My chest tightened. Oliver. Cassian’s older brother. The one whose hockey career got ruined. There were comments underneath speculating about revenge, about fights, about someone “getting what they deserve eventually.”

A cold feeling crept down my spine. This account knew personal things. I clicked deeper into the profile. Old archived posts appeared until one specific post stopped me in my tracks. A blurry photo of Kieran and Asher outside the rink at night. Asher looked upset. Kieran looked furious.

The Caption, Golden Boy finally losing patience with the mascot? Underneath it, Careful Carter. Some people break more easily than others. My heart slammed hard against my ribs. Kieran. My jaw tightened instantly. That wasn’t normal teasing. That sounded like a threat.

Another post below it read,

Maybe Asher Carter should learn when to shut up. The date was two weeks before the coma, ice flooded my stomach. I stared at the photo again. Kieran’s expression. Asher’s face. And suddenly, all the weird guilt in Kieran’s eyes made terrible sense. He knew. He absolutely knew. Maybe he wrote the posts himself. Maybe he threatened Asher directly. Maybe...

“Ash?” I jumped violently.

Theo stood beside me looking concerned. “You okay?”

I locked the screen immediately. “Fine.”

“You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I’m good.”

Theo clearly didn’t believe me. His eyes narrowed slightly before drifting toward the rink doors. “You coming?”

“Yeah.”

I shoved the phone into my pocket and followed him inside, but my thoughts were spiralling now. Kieran Hampton hurt my brother. The evidence was right there. The threats. The photo. The guilt. All roads kept leading back to him.

Practice was brutal mostly because I couldn’t stop staring at Kieran differently now. Every laugh sounded fake. Every glance looked suspicious. Every touch felt dangerous. At one point, he skated too close while reaching for a puck and our shoulders accidentally brushed.

Kieran noticed my expression immediately. His brows furrowed. “What?”

I stepped back sharply. “Nothing.”

His jaw tightened. “You’ve been weird all day.”

I laughed coldly. “That’s rich coming from you.”

Confusion flashed across his face, then irritation. “What’s your problem now, Carter?" You. The word nearly came out.

Instead, I forced a shrug. “Thought you preferred when I stayed quiet.” Something dark flickered across his expression. For half a second, actual guilt appeared there before Coach yelled for another drill and the moment broke apart but I noticed.

And once you notice guilt, you can’t unsee it.

After practice ended, I stayed behind pretending to reorganise equipment when really I just needed everyone gone so I could think. The rink slowly emptied, voices faded, lights dimmed slightly, and finally, alone, I pulled Asher’s phone out again and reopened the gossip account. My chest tightened harder the deeper I searched. There were deleted posts, locked comments, references to fights, threats hidden beneath jokes.

Then suddenly...

Buzz.

A new message notification appeared across the screen. Unknown Number.

My pulse stopped.

Slowly, I opened it. And the second I read the words, every hair on my body stood up.

YOU SHOULD’VE KEPT QUIET.