Jess Tennant has now been living in a tiny town on the English seaside for three months, and is just beginning to relax and think of it as home after the traumatic events of last summer. But in the small hours of Halloween night, a teenage boy is left for dead by the side of the road. Seb Dawson has a serious head injury and may not survive. Jess might not have liked Seb much, but surely he didn't deserve this. The police don't seem to be taking the attack very seriously, but Jess can't just let it go, and she takes matters into her own hands.
As she investigates, Jess discovers that Seb was involved in some very dangerous games. A secret predator around girls, he would do whatever it took to abuse them, from lying and blackmail to spiking drinks. Could a group of vengeful victims be behind his attack? Or is there someone else with a grudge against Seb, who will stop at nothing to silence him? Jane Casey returns with another edge-of-your-seat mystery in Bet Your Life.
Jess Tennant has now been living in a tiny town on the English seaside for three months, and is just beginning to relax and think of it as home after the traumatic events of last summer. But in the small hours of Halloween night, a teenage boy is left for dead by the side of the road. Seb Dawson has a serious head injury and may not survive. Jess might not have liked Seb much, but surely he didn't deserve this. The police don't seem to be taking the attack very seriously, but Jess can't just let it go, and she takes matters into her own hands.
As she investigates, Jess discovers that Seb was involved in some very dangerous games. A secret predator around girls, he would do whatever it took to abuse them, from lying and blackmail to spiking drinks. Could a group of vengeful victims be behind his attack? Or is there someone else with a grudge against Seb, who will stop at nothing to silence him? Jane Casey returns with another edge-of-your-seat mystery in Bet Your Life.
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Overview
Jess Tennant has now been living in a tiny town on the English seaside for three months, and is just beginning to relax and think of it as home after the traumatic events of last summer. But in the small hours of Halloween night, a teenage boy is left for dead by the side of the road. Seb Dawson has a serious head injury and may not survive. Jess might not have liked Seb much, but surely he didn't deserve this. The police don't seem to be taking the attack very seriously, but Jess can't just let it go, and she takes matters into her own hands.
As she investigates, Jess discovers that Seb was involved in some very dangerous games. A secret predator around girls, he would do whatever it took to abuse them, from lying and blackmail to spiking drinks. Could a group of vengeful victims be behind his attack? Or is there someone else with a grudge against Seb, who will stop at nothing to silence him? Jane Casey returns with another edge-of-your-seat mystery in Bet Your Life.
Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781466836266 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | St. Martin's Publishing Group |
| Publication date: | 06/04/2024 |
| Series: | Jess Tennant Series , #2 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 333 |
| Sales rank: | 598,463 |
| File size: | 713 KB |
| Age Range: | 12 - 18 Years |
About the Author
JANE CASEY was born and raised in Dublin. A graduate of Oxford with a master's of philosophy from Trinity College, Dublin, she lives in London, where she works as an editor. Bet Your Life is her second YA novel.
Read an Excerpt
Bet Your Life
By Jane Casey
St. Martin's Griffin
Copyright © 2014 Jane CaseyAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-4668-3626-6
CHAPTER 1
Most people go out for the night and expect to have fun. I hadn't counted on it, and I'd been right.
That was a very tiny consolation.
Surrounded by people laughing and joking and enjoying life, I felt like the saddest, loneliest person on earth. As if that wasn't enough to deal with, it was the coldest night of the year so far, and I had no coat. I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to stop my teeth from chattering as my breath misted in front of my face. Luckily, there was something to distract me. Just like everyone around me, I tilted my head back and stared at the sky. It was pure black, with more pinprick stars scattered across it than I had ever seen in light-polluted London. The sky was spectacular enough on its own, but when the first fireworks streaked up and flowered into brief glory, I almost forgot I was freezing.
Almost.
I had started out the night with a coat, obviously, because a Halloween fireworks party meant a lot of standing around on Port Sentinel's muddy recreation ground, waiting for the fun to start. I'd worn my favorite coat of all time, my new but old coat, found in the backroom clutter of the charity shop where I worked part-time. Fine Feathers was wall-to-wall designer cast-offs, thanks to the rich, fashion-conscious residents of Port Sentinel, but this coat had no label, just a couple of threads that showed where one had been. Narrow across the shoulders and waist, it swirled out before it ended just below my knees. It was made from ultra-black woven tweed and had tiny black roses embroidered around the inside of the hem, as if it wanted to keep them a secret. It made me walk taller and I adored it. And when I had gone to retrieve it from the cloakroom after a good two hours of not-totally-ironic dancing at the disco in the recreation center, it had disappeared. Now the heat of dancing had completely worn off and my thin cotton dress was keeping out precisely none of the cold. I had tights on, and boots, but I was still shaking with cold.
A skinny black cat elbowed me in the ribs as she sashayed past, waving her tail, her ears set at a jaunty angle. I tried to work out if I knew her but she disappeared into the crowd before I could see her face, and there were a lot of cats at the party. I'd been in Port Sentinel for four months and it didn't surprise me that the local girls had gone for tight-fitting costumes, preferably with plenty of cleavage on display. Any excuse, quite frankly. Top choice: ghost, featuring pale-blue lipstick and ashy foundation, because ghosts apparently wore almost nothing—sheer dresses rather than the traditional white sheet. Second: vampire. Leather and red lipstick appealed to a certain kind of girl and, more importantly, a certain kind of boy. There were a lot of bitten necks on display along with the fireworks. Third: witches in short black dresses, high boots and fishnet tights. Port Sentinel was full of witches, in my experience, but they usually didn't bother with the costume. Finally, there were the pirates, a nod to Port Sentinel's smuggling past. These pirates wore tiny skirts, half-buttoned shirts, knee boots, and cheeky grins along with their eye patches. And all of them, but all of them, had got their coats before they came to stand outside.
It was notable—and typical—that if any of the boys were wearing a costume, they had made a token effort at best. I wasn't really in a position to criticize. I hadn't spent a huge amount of time on my own outfit. I'd only decided to go at the last minute, having resisted every effort my cousin Petra had made to persuade me.
"You don't understand. Everybody goes. It's always the Saturday closest to Halloween, which in this case is the first of November, and it's really the start of half-term. Everyone who's away at boarding school comes back, and all the holiday-home kids turn up. It's like summer all over again," she had said, sounding wistful. Almost fourteen, she was still too young to go to the over-sixteens disco, though she'd promised me she'd be there for the fireworks.
"Saying it's like summer is not the way to sell it to me," I'd pointed out.
"You know what I mean. It's not like nearly dying and everything," Petra said impatiently. "There's a buzz. It's fun. You see people you haven't seen for ages."
"That sounds great." I didn't manage to sound enthusiastic, because I wasn't. I was determined to keep my distance from anything that might remind me of the summer. The everything Petra mentioned in passing had been a whole world of pain. Nearly dying had been the easy part.
Mind-reading as usual, my cousin Hugo looked up from his book and smirked. "Don't worry. He won't be there. Halloween parties and fireworks are not his thing."
He. Hugo meant his friend, my ex, Will Henderson. Will, who had been sent away to boarding school at the start of September, mainly because he'd been going out with me. I longed to see him and I hoped to avoid him. It was the sort of confused thinking that made my head hurt.
"I wouldn't have thought Halloween parties would have been your thing, either," I said.
The smirk had widened to a wicked grin. "I wouldn't miss it for anything."
Now that I was surrounded by so many scantily clad girls, I understood the appeal.
It occurred to me that I hadn't seen Hugo for a while, or Petra at all. I stopped watching the fireworks bloom and fade so that I could scan the crowd. Everyone was packed tightly together and I wasn't tall enough to see very far, what with all the rugby players and surfers who were standing shoulder to broad shoulder in front of me. I saw plenty of people I recognized, but no one I would call a friend. That wasn't altogether surprising. In any Port Sentinel gathering, I was likely to find more enemies than friends. It was no wonder I was looking forward to the following day, when one of my best friends from London was coming for a visit. I had missed Ella more than I'd even realized.
In the meantime, Hugo. I moved to my left, trying not to step on any toes, and worked my way toward the front. A skeleton swore in my ear as I moved past her. Her face was a glowing skull that floated against the dark night and I couldn't tell who she really was, but I was absolutely sure I should keep my distance from her. Skirting a kissing couple, looking back over my shoulder, I skidded on the slick mud and almost fell. I put a hand out to stop myself and grabbed the nearest thing, which turned out to be Ryan Denton's arm.
Oh no.
"Hey, Jess. How's it going?" Because of the fireworks exploding above our heads he said it loudly enough that the guys standing nearest to us heard, and turned, and I saw the same look spread across their faces: amusement and anticipation. I could have done without turning into a running joke, but I hadn't been given much of a choice about it.
"Sorry," I said. "I was just falling over. Thanks for lending me your arm."
"Any time. Hey!" I'd already started to walk away, but he caught hold of my wrist and pulled me back. "Don't go. Watch the fireworks with me."
"I'm looking for someone."
His eyebrows drew together. "Who?"
"Just Hugo."
"Oh." A smile, like the sun coming out from behind clouds. Cousin, not competition. "It'll be easier to find him when the fireworks are over."
He was right. Everyone was packed together on the recreation ground, kept a safe distance away from the pyrotechnics behind a semicircle of barriers. Once the display was over I would be able to move around without colliding with people.
"OK. Good idea."
"Come here," he said, and drew me toward him. A small gold dot shot into the sky and transformed itself into a huge shimmering orb that hung for a few seconds before fading. The light slanted across Ryan's face, highlighting the line of his cheek, the edge of his jaw, the full curve of his lower lip. It struck sparks in his sea-blue eyes. God, he was cute.
So off-limits it was untrue, but cute.
While I'd been gazing at him and his perfect mouth, he'd been checking out my costume. "I like the ringlets. What are you supposed to be?"
I looked down at the dress my aunt had dug out from the very back of her wardrobe. It was pale pink, short, and covered in tiny flowers, and she said she'd worn it in the nineties with a striped top underneath, woolly tights, big boots, and a man's cardigan. I was wearing cowboy boots (to cope with the mud) and a frilly apron. I'd have given quite a lot for a thick woolly cardigan at that moment, whether grunge was back in fashion or not. "Isn't it obvious? I'm Little Bo-Peep."
"No sheep, though."
I couldn't prevent myself from smiling. "Well, exactly."
"Oh yeah." He grinned back. "Not what I'd call a typical Halloween costume. It's not exactly spooky."
"I know." It wasn't all that surprising I'd resisted the chance to dress up as a ghoul or a ghost. I'd had a gutful of death during the previous summer. Mocking it didn't seem like a wise thing to do.
As for Ryan's costume, he looked exactly the same as usual.
Hot.
"And what did you come as?" I asked, hoping he wasn't good at mind-reading.
"My identical twin."
"How is that spooky?"
He leaned down so that his face was inches from mine. "My identical twin is evil. He's capable of anything."
"Good to know."
"My identical twin thinks you look stunning tonight."
"Also good to know." Playing it cool ...
"So do I."
I felt myself blushing, not because he was flirting with me but because I could see Ryan's friends grinning ever more widely. The flirting happened a lot, and I still found it hard to cope with.
"I thought you'd be looking for Will."
I jumped, surprised he'd mentioned Will's name. Once they'd been friends, then sworn enemies from the age of nine. Then I'd come to town and ended up as the prize in the latest competition, which Will had won. Ryan wasn't giving up, though. "No, I'm not looking for him."
"He's coming back this week, isn't he? Not spending half-term at his fancy new school."
"He's back," I said. "But I don't have any plans to see him."
Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Not planning to pick up where you left off?"
"That is where we left off. We broke up. Just before Will left." And I wasn't going to think about that painful little scene for a minute more than I had to. "What about you? Is Natasha coming back this week?"
It was his turn to look unsettled. "No. No way. She's on lockdown. No taking breaks from rehab."
Natasha, my arch-enemy and Ryan's psycho ex-girlfriend, had been found out in a big way at the end of the summer, when I'd uncovered the truth about the part she played in my cousin Freya's death. Natasha's mother had shipped her off to an ultra-strict boarding school to get her under control. I wished her good luck, but I was pretty sure she wasn't going to change. She was as evil as they came, I thought.
"It's not rehab, though."
"In all but name."
I shrugged. "You'd know more about it than I do."
"Not really. I haven't been in touch with her."
"She's been in touch with you, I bet."
"She might have been. Jealous?" He sounded hopeful.
"Not even a little bit. Wow." I leaned out to look past him as the sky turned crimson, then jade-green, then ice-white. "That really is amazing."
Ryan glanced over his shoulder. "They always spend a fortune on the fireworks."
"I'd heard it was a big deal. How much longer is it going to be?"
"A few minutes."
My heart sank. My teeth were actually chattering. I wasn't sure I could make it to the end.
"Are you all right?" Ryan asked.
"F-freezing. I lost my coat."
"Come here. I'll keep you warm."
I should have said no, but I was too cold to argue. I moved a step closer to him and he turned me round to face away from him. He unzipped his down-filled jacket and drew me back so I was leaning against him, then wrapped the jacket around both of us and held me, his chin on my head. I felt the heat from his body spreading to mine, and it was as comforting as sitting by a log fire. The fireworks were winding up for a big finish, which helped me to ignore the stares we were getting. I knew it looked as if he'd succeeded in wearing me down, but I didn't care. Damage to my reputation was survivable. Hypothermia was, potentially, not.
They kept the best for last: a flurry of hundreds of gold stars that hung against the sky for what felt like forever, then faded to black. I sighed and then applauded along with everyone else, genuinely impressed.
The crowd started to come apart, drifting away in twos and threes to seek further entertainment, or a quiet corner for some alone time together, or the next party. Ryan still had his arms around my shoulders and didn't seem inclined to let go.
"I need to look for Hugo," I said, twisting so I could see his face.
"In a minute." He ran a hand into my hair and held onto it at the back of my neck.
"Hey," I said half-heartedly. "Let go."
"It's traditional to round off the fireworks with a kiss."
I leaned away from him as far as I could, which was not very. "I keep hearing about Port Sentinel's traditions but I've never heard that one."
"You're still new in town. Give it a year and you should be up to speed." He leaned toward me and I did a quick calculation: was it more embarrassing to make a fuss or to allow it to happen?
"Jess!"
Saved. I wriggled free as soon as Ryan's grip loosened. Hugo was coming toward us.
"Where have you been?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing." Hugo had an odd expression on his face, I noted, and could guess why. My cousin was not a Ryan fan. You didn't have to be particularly sensitive to spot that, and Ryan was actually quite good at reading other people's reactions. He let go of me completely and nodded to Hugo.
"Glad you found each other."
"Ryan!" The shout came from across the recreation ground, where a figure stood, arms outstretched. A knot of people was milling around him but he was very definitely the center of attention. He was instantly recognizable, even to me, as Harry Knowles. His hair stood straight up from his head, adding an extra six or so inches to his already quite impressive height. "Are you coming or not?"
"In a minute," Ryan yelled back.
"Don't miss out, man. It's going to be big." He picked up a small witch and threw her over his shoulder, spinning around as she shrieked with laughter.
"I'll be there." Turning to me, Ryan said, "There's a party at Harry's house tonight. Come along if you can."
"I don't know Harry." I meant personally. Everyone in Port Sentinel knew who Harry was: the wild son of a genius city trader who had made his first million of the day before breakfast, every day, until the day he'd burned out. He'd quit, taken his money, and fled to Devon. Even in a town full of rich kids, Harry was renowned for being loaded, and spoiled rotten. He was a founding member of Ryan's group of friends, who were essentially the prettiest and richest teenagers around. And all this could have been mine as well, if I'd been prepared to indulge Ryan and go out with him.
"You don't need to know Harry. You know me." Ryan grinned down at me, ignoring Hugo. "Anyway, if you change your mind, let me know. Harry's folks are in Venezuela for half-term. He's aiming for a party a night."
"I'll keep it in mind."
Ryan's eyes narrowed a fraction, registering that I hadn't said yes. "It would be fun. You don't want to miss out."
"Definitely not. Thanks for asking me."
"Good luck with finding your coat," Ryan said, and then, as I was just about to reply, dropped a kiss on my mouth. My lips were parted and it was startlingly intimate, even if it was quick. I stared after him as he walked away, my mouth tingling. When Hugo spoke, I jumped. I had completely forgotten he was there.
"What were you doing with him?"
"Nothing. Keeping warm." I rubbed my arms, trying to generate some heat. "Have you seen my coat?"
He unwound his scarf and handed it to me. "Never mind about your coat."
"I do mind. Obviously. But thanks." I wrapped the scarf around my neck, watching him curiously. "Where were you during the show, anyway?"
For Hugo, he was oddly slow to respond. "Looking for you. Then looking at you."
"How fascinating for you. I'm surprised I was enough to distract you from the fireworks. You can stare at me anytime."
"I can. Will can't."
I was knotting the scarf but I stopped dead. "What did you say?"
"Will can't." Two syllables. Perfect enunciation. Nothing confusing about it. Except ...
"He was here?" My voice was very small.
"Yeah."
"And he saw me."
"With Ryan."
"Where is he?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Bet Your Life by Jane Casey. Copyright © 2014 Jane Casey. Excerpted by permission of St. Martin's Griffin.
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