A nervous blushed bloomed on Principal Chappie’s cheeks. “Our students aren’t in any danger, Ms. Dodd. But I suppose we should let everyone know what happened to allay these rumors. I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression, and I certainly don’t want to concern any parents. We’ll make a formal announcement.”
“So…?” Sawyer raised her eyebrows, and Principal Chappie looked like he was thinking, choosing just the right words.
“It seems that Mr. Hanson died of anaphylaxis.”
“Anaphylaxis? Like, an allergic reaction?”
Principal Chappie nodded quickly. “Yes.”
“Don’t most people who are allergic like that carry EpiPens?”
Mr. Chappie shrugged. “I’m not sure. But he must have consumed something unwittingly that contained peanuts, perhaps in the teacher’s lounge. He was very allergic.”
Sawyer felt her eyes widen. “So it happened here? At school?”
Principal Chappie dropped his voice. “Unfortunately, yes. That part we’d like to keep under wraps. I don’t think the general population needs to know every detail. Can I count on you, Sawyer?”
“Uh, sure, Principal Chappie. I—I won’t saying anything about that.”
“As you understand, we’ll be canceling this afternoon’s track meet and all other student activities this week.”
Sawyer nodded mutely, stepping away.
“So?” Chloe hissed, grabbing her arm. “What did you find out?”
“Mr. Hanson died of anaphylaxis.”
“What was it? Like a spider bite or bees or something?”
“He was allergic to peanuts.”
Chloe’s eyebrows went up. “Why would he eat peanuts if he were allergic to them?”
“I don’t know. Hey, your mom’s allergic to bees, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Does she carry an EpiPen?”
Chloe nodded. “All the time. Pack of Marlboros, picture of Tom Hanks, EpiPen.”
“Don’t you think Mr. Hanson would have had one of those? I mean, allergic to peanuts.” Sawyer looked around. “In a school?”
Chloe shrugged. “PB and J are the sandwiches of choice for the pre-educated masses. But what are you getting at?”
“It just seems weird to me that Mr. Hanson wouldn’t have had an EpiPen if he was that allergic.”
“Maybe he didn’t get to it in time. You have to do it like, right away. I know; my mom’s doctor made me come in and learn how to do it. When I was six, my mom stumbled in drunk at four a.m. and I stabbed her in the thigh. I thought she got stung.”
“In the middle of the night?”
Chloe shrugged. “Anyway, so what are you saying? Someone force-fed Mr. Hanson peanuts?” Sawyer shook her head, and Chloe frowned. “Maybe he had a death wish,” she said on a turn.
Ice water rushed through Sawyer’s veins and she let out a tiny, involuntary shiver.
Or someone else did, she thought.
Sawyer walked to her first class in a daze, the world moving in a slow motion of blurs and unintelligible sounds. Police officers passed by, and grief counselors ushered students into rooms with the blinds drawn. Sawyer sucked in a quivering breath when she went to her locker, butterflies moving to batwings inside her stomach. She rolled the combination and steadied herself to find—What? She wondered. Mr. Hanson’s head? Another cryptic letter?
“Grow up, Sawyer,” she mumbled under her breath.
She tried to laugh and shrug off the enormous sense of foreboding and gave her locker door a good, hard yank.
All of her books, crumpled papers, and curl-edged photos of her and Kevin poured out onto the hall floor.
“Whoa,” Logan said, jumping back. “Avalanche.”
Sawyer looked at Logan, flushed, feeling heat and sweat prick at her hairline. “Sorry about that.”
She dove to the ground when Logan did, the two thunking foreheads in the process. Logan rolled back, rubbing his, grinning.
“I’m so sorry,” Sawyer said.
“Hey, it’s all right. Are you okay?”
Sawyer began stacking her books, nodding maniacally, eyes searching for any hint of mint green. “I’m fine. I’m just really—really—”
Logan reached out and laid a hand on Sawyer’s shoulder. It was as delicate and uncertain as his eyes. Sawyer realized she liked them and allowed herself to breathe. “Sorry, I’m just jumpy.”
“Yeah, it’s not every day someone drops dead on campus.”
Sawyer glanced up at Logan. The words sounded odd and rough coming out of his mouth. He glanced back at her, a hint of a smile at the edges of his lips. “I mean, you know.”
Sawyer went back to gathering her books. “Yeah, yeah I guess so.”
Logan stayed hunched down but was silent for a beat. He licked his lips and said, “Hey, I wanted to thank you again for the ride the other day.”
“Don’t mention it.” Sawyer jammed the last of her books back in her locker and slammed the door shut. “Sorry again, Logan, but I’ve got to get to class.”
“Right.” And then, “Oh, wait. Hey, Sawyer—is this yours?”
Sawyer stopped without turning around, her stomach gone leaden. She didn’t want to see what Logan was offering her. He stepped in front of her, grin still wide, eyes still soft. He offered Sawyer a songbook. “This is yours, right?”