Her name is Robin Stafford, and according to my father she’s a brilliant, highly successful criminal defense attorney. But not overly high-profile. Not the kind of lawyer automatically associated with guilty rich people trying to buy their way out of trouble. She’s right on time and gives me a wide, warm smile when Maeve leads her into the kitchen.
I wouldn’t be able to guess her age by looking at her, but the bio my father showed me last night says she’s forty-one. She’s wearing a cream-colored suit that’s striking against her dark skin, subtle gold jewelry, and shoes that look expensive but not Jimmy Choo level.
She takes a seat at our kitchen island across from my parents and me. “Bronwyn, it’s a pleasure. Let’s talk about what you might expect today and how you should handle school.”
Sure. Because that’s my life now. School is something to be handled.
She folds her hands in front of her. “I’m not sure the police truly believed the four of you planned this together, but I do think they hoped to shock and pressure one of you into giving up useful information. That indicates their evidence is flimsy at best. If none of you point fingers and your stories line up, they don’t have anywhere to take this investigation, and it’s my belief it will ultimately be closed out as an accidental death.”
The vise that’s been gripping my chest all morning loosens a little. “Even though Simon was about to post those awful things about us? And there’s that whole Tumblr thing going on?”
Robin gives an elegant little shrug. “At the end of the day, that’s nothing but gossip and trolling. I know you kids take it seriously, but in the legal world it’s meaningless unless hard proof emerges to back it up. The best thing you can do is not talk about the case. Certainly not with the police, but not with school administrators either.”
“What if they ask?”
“Tell them you’ve retained counsel and can’t answer questions without your lawyer present.”
I try to imagine having that conversation with Principal Gupta. I don’t know what the school’s heard about this, but me pleading the Fifth would be a major red flag.
“Are you friendly with the other kids who were in detention that day?” Robin asks.
“Not exactly. Cooper and I have some classes together, but—”
“Bronwyn.” My mother interrupts with a chill in her voice. “You’re friendly enough with Nate Macauley that he showed up here last night. For the third time.”
Robin sits straighter in her chair, and I flush. That was a big topic of discussion last night after my dad made Nate leave. Dad thought he’d stalked our address in a creepy way, so I had some explaining to do.
“Why has Nate been here three times, Bronwyn?” Robin asks with a polite, interested air.
“It’s no big deal. He gave me a ride home after Simon died. Then he stopped by last Friday to hang out for a while. And I don’t know what he was doing here last night, since nobody would let me talk to him.”
“It’s the ‘hanging out’ while your parents aren’t home that disturbs me—” my mother starts, but Robin interrupts her.
“Bronwyn, what’s the nature of your relationship with Nate?”
I have no idea. Maybe you could help me analyze it? Is that part of your retainer? “I hardly know him. I hadn’t talked to him in years before last week. We’re both in this weird situation and … it helps to be around other people going through the same thing.”
“I recommend maintaining distance from the others,” Robin says, ignoring my mother’s evil eye in my direction. “No need to give the police further ammunition for their theories. If your cell phone and email are examined, will they show recent communication with those three students?”
“No,” I say truthfully.
“That’s good news.” She glances at her watch, a slim gold Rolex. “That’s all we can address now if you’re going to get to school on time, which you should. Business as usual.” She flashes me that warm smile again. “We’ll talk more in depth later.”
I say good-bye to my parents, not quite able to look them in the eye, and call for Maeve as I grab the keys to the Volvo. I spend the whole drive steeling myself for something awful to happen once we get to school, but it’s weirdly normal. No police lying in wait for me. Nobody’s looking at me any differently than they have since the first Tumblr post came out.
Still, I’m only half paying attention to Kate and Yumiko’s chatter after homeroom, my eyes roaming the hallway. There’s only one person I want to talk to, even though it’s exactly who I’m supposed to stay away from. “Catch you guys later, okay?” I murmur, and intercept Nate after he ducks into the back stairwell.
If he’s surprised to see me, he doesn’t show it. “Bronwyn. How’s the family?”
I lean against the wall next to him and lower my voice. “I wanted to apologize for my dad making you leave last night. He’s kind of freaked out by all this.”
“Wonder why.” Nate drops his voice as well. “You been searched yet?” My eyes widen, and he laughs darkly. “Didn’t think so. I was. You’re probably not supposed to be talking to me, right?”
I can’t help but glance around the empty stairwell. I’m already paranoid and Nate’s not helping. I have to keep reminding myself that we did not, in fact, conspire to commit murder. “Why did you stop by?”
His eyes search mine as though he’s about to say something profound about life and death and the presumption of innocence. “I was going to apologize for stealing Jesus from you.”
I recoil a little. I have no idea what he’s talking about. Is he making some kind of religious allegory? “What?”
“In the fourth-grade Nativity play at St. Pius. I stole Jesus and you had to carry a bag wrapped in a blanket. Sorry about that.”
I stare at him for a second as the tension flows out of me, leaving me limp and slightly giddy. I punch him in the shoulder, startling him so much he actually laughs. “I knew it was you. Why’d you do that?”
“To get a rise out of you.” He grins at me, and for a second I forget everything except the fact that Nate Macauley still has an adorable smile. “Also, I wanted to talk to you about—all this. But I guess it’s too late. You must be lawyered up by now, right?” His smile disappears.
“Yes, but … I want to talk to you too.” The bell rings, and I pull out my phone. Then I remember Robin asking about communication records between the four of us and stuff it back into my bag. Nate catches the gesture and snorts another humorless laugh.
“Yeah, exchanging numbers is a shit idea. Unless you want to use this.” He reaches into his backpack and hands me a flip phone.
I take it gingerly. “What is it?”
“An extra phone. I have a few.” I run my thumb across the cover with a dawning idea of what it might be for, and he adds hastily, “It’s new. Nobody’s going to call it or anything. But I have the number. I’ll call you. You can answer, or not. Up to you.” He pauses, and adds, “Just don’t, you know, leave it lying around. They get a warrant for your phone and computer, that’s all they can touch. They can’t go through your whole house.”
I’m pretty sure my expensive lawyer would tell me not to take legal advice from Nate Macauley. And she’d probably have something to say about the fact that he has an apparently inexhaustible supply of the same cheap phones that corralled us all in detention last week. I watch him head up the stairs, knowing I should drop the phone into the nearest trash can. But I put it in my backpack instead.
Cooper
Monday, October 1, 11:00 a.m.
It’s almost a relief to be at school. Better than home, where Pop spent hours ranting about how Simon’s a liar and the police are incompetent and the school should be on the hook for this and lawyers will cost a fortune we don’t have.
He didn’t ask if any of it was true.
We’re in a weird limbo now. Everything’s different but it all looks the same. Except Jake and Addy, who’re walking around like they want to kill and die, respectively. Bronwyn gives me the least convincing smile ever in the hallway, her lips pressed so tight they almost disappear. Nate’s nowhere in sight.