“What?”
Everyone seems absorbed in their rocks, but he lowers his voice anyway. “You were really funny when we—um, that first time we hung out. On the beach. But whenever I saw you after that you were so … passive. Always agreeing with whatever Jake said.”
I glower at the tray in front of me. “That’s a rude thing to say.”
TJ’s voice is mild. “Sorry. But I could never figure out why you’d fade into the background that way. You were a lot of fun.” He catches my glare and adds hastily, “Not like that. Or, well, yes, like that, but also … You know what? Never mind. I’ll stop talking now.”
“Great idea,” I mutter, scooping up a handful of rocks and dumping them in front of him. “Sort these, would you?”
It’s not that TJ’s “fade into the background” comment stings. I know it’s true. I can’t wrap my head around the rest, though. Nobody’s ever said I’m funny before. Or fun. I always figured TJ was still talking to me because he wouldn’t mind getting me alone again. I never thought he might’ve actually enjoyed hanging out during the nonphysical part of the day.
We finish the rest of the class in silence except to agree or disagree on rock classification, and when the bell rings I grab my backpack and head for the hall without a backward look.
Until the voice behind me stops me like I’ve slammed into an invisible wall. “Addy.”
My shoulders tense as I turn. I haven’t tried talking to Jake since he blew me off at his locker, and I’m afraid of what he’s going to say to me now.
“How’ve you been?” he asks.
I almost laugh. “Oh, you know. Not good.”
I can’t read Jake’s expression. He doesn’t look mad, but he’s not smiling either. He seems different somehow. Older? Not exactly, but … less boyish, maybe. He’s been staring right through me for almost two weeks, and I don’t understand why I’m suddenly visible again. “Things must be getting intense,” he says. “Cooper’s totally clammed up. Do you—” He hesitates, shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other. “Do you want to talk sometime?”
My throat feels like I swallowed something sharp. Do I? Jake waits for an answer, and I mentally shake myself. Of course I do. That’s all I’ve wanted since this happened. “Yes.”
“Okay. Maybe this afternoon? I’ll text you.” He holds my gaze, still not smiling, and adds, “God, I can’t get used to your hair. You don’t even look like yourself.”
I’m about to say I know when I remember TJ’s words. You were so … passive. Always agreeing with whatever Jake said. “Well, I am,” I say instead, and take off down the hall before he can break eye contact first.
Nate
Monday, October 15, 3:15 p.m.
Bronwyn settles herself on the rock next to me, smoothing her skirt over her knees and looking over the treetops in front of us. “I’ve never been to Marshall’s Peak before,” she says.
I’m not surprised. Marshall’s Peak—which isn’t really a peak, more of a rocky outcropping overlooking the woods we cut through on our way out of school—is Bayview’s so-called scenic area. It’s also a popular spot for drinking, drugs, and hookups, although not at three o’clock on a Monday afternoon. I’m pretty sure Bronwyn has no clue what happens here on weekends. “Hope reality lives up to the hype,” I say.
She smiles. “It beats getting ambushed by Mikhail Powers’s crew.” We had another sneak-out-the-back routine when they showed up at the front of school today. I’m surprised they haven’t wised up to staking out the woods yet. Driving to the mall again seemed like a bad idea given how high our profile’s risen over the past week, so here we are.
Bronwyn’s eyes are down, watching a line of ants carry a leaf across the rock next to us. She licks her lips like she’s nervous, and I shift a little closer. Most of my time with her is spent on the phone, and I can’t tell what she’s thinking in person.
“I called Eli Kleinfelter,” she says. “From Until Proven.”
Oh. That’s what she’s thinking. I shift back. “Okay.”
“It was an interesting conversation,” she says. “He was nice about hearing from me, didn’t seem surprised at all. He promised he wouldn’t tell anybody I’d called him.”
For all her brains, Bronwyn can be like a little kid sometimes. “What’s that worth?” I ask. “He’s not your lawyer. He can talk to Mikhail Powers about you if he wants more airtime.”
“He won’t,” Bronwyn says calmly, like she’s got it all figured out. “Anyway, I didn’t tell him anything. We didn’t talk about me at all. I just asked him what he thought of the investigation so far.”
“And?”
“Well, he repeated some of what he said on TV. That he was surprised there wasn’t more talk about Simon. Eli thought anyone who’d run the kind of app Simon did, for as long as he did, would’ve made plenty of enemies who’d love to use the four of us as scapegoats. He said he’d check into some of the most damaging stories and the kids they covered. And he’d look into Simon generally. Like Maeve’s doing with the 4chan stuff.”
“The best defense is a good offense?” I ask.
“Right. He also said our lawyers aren’t doing enough to pick apart the theory that nobody else could’ve poisoned Simon. Mr. Avery, for one.” A note of pride creeps into her voice. “Eli said the exact same thing I did, that Mr. Avery had the best opportunity of anyone to plant the phones and doctor the cups. But other than questioning him a few times, the police are mostly leaving him alone.”
I shrug. “What’s his motive?”
“Technophobia,” Bronwyn says, and glares at me when I laugh. “It’s a thing. Anyway, that was just one idea. Eli also mentioned the car accident as a time when everybody was distracted and someone could’ve slipped into the room.”
I frown at her. “We weren’t at the window that long. We would’ve heard the door open.”
“Would we? Maybe not. His point is, it’s possible. And he said something else interesting.” Bronwyn picks up a small rock and juggles it meditatively in her hand. “He said he’d look into the car accident. That the timing was suspect.”
“Meaning?”
“Well, it goes back to his earlier point that someone could’ve opened the door while we watched the cars. Someone who knew it was going to happen.”
“He thinks the car accident was planned?” I stare at her, and she avoids my gaze as she heaves the rock over the trees beneath us. “So you’re suggesting somebody engineered a fender bender in the parking lot so they could distract us, slip into detention, and dump peanut oil into Simon’s cup? That they couldn’t possibly have known he had if they weren’t already in the room? Then leave Simon’s cup lying around, because they’re stupid?”
“It’s not stupid if they’re trying to frame us,” Bronwyn points out. “But it would be stupid for one of us to leave it there, instead of finding a way to get rid of it. Chances were good nobody would have searched us right after.”
“It still doesn’t explain how anybody outside the room would know Simon had a cup of water in the first place.”
“Well, it’s like the Tumblr post said. Simon was always drinking water, wasn’t he? They could have been outside the door, watching through the window. That’s what Eli says, anyway.”
“Oh, well, if Eli says so.” I’m not sure why this guy’s a legal god in Bronwyn’s eyes. He can’t be more than twenty-five. “Sounds like he’s full of dipshit theories.”
I’m getting ready for an argument, but Bronwyn doesn’t take the bait. “Maybe,” she says, tracing her fingers over the rock between us. “But I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and … I don’t think it was anyone in that room, Nate. I really don’t. I’ve gotten to know Addy a little bit this week”—she raises a palm at my skeptical look—“and I’m not saying I’m suddenly an Addy expert or anything, but I honestly can’t picture her doing anything to Simon.”
“What about Cooper? That guy’s definitely hiding something.”