Conner stepped up on the bench to openly stare over the heads of our classmates. I couldn’t classify their expressions. Not sour or cruel. Bored. Hungry, maybe. I faced front. Viv hummed the theme song to the Twilight Zone.
I chalked it up to a case of the Mondays or a new, insidious method of torture courtesy of Amanda. Subtler than sticking lipsticked sanitary pads to Viv’s backpack freshman year.
The day continued down an unusual spiral.
My phone vibrated from my backpack during first period. I checked its screen when Mrs. Ives wasn’t paying attention.
Sup, Iz. It was from a number not saved in my contacts.
Who is this? I texted back.
I watched those three little dots appear and disappear and reappear as I waited.
Finally, one name. Conner.
I flicked the volume button from vibrate to silent and stowed the phone. I stared at the blank page of my notebook, felt a stitch between my eyebrows form, felt it turn into a headache. The period ended and I checked to see if Viv had texted for a summit at our lockers.
A new message from Conner lit up my screen.
Heard your friends had blowout Saturday. My invite get lost?
I left the classroom, shoving my cell deep into my backpack and jamming the books on top. The pink bandage that I’d worn on my palm since Saturday night flashed up at me. The Order of IV was private. Us dancing around in our underwear, drunk, cutting our hands with a dagger, smearing blood on the rock, Graham and Viv kissing, it was all intimate and Conner referring to it as a party—knowing anything about it—made me feel exposed. Skinless.
I kept imagining the vantage point someone on the street would have had looking up at the rock. No clear view of the meteorite. But the flashing police lights in the orchard had drawn Harry in years earlier. A flickering bonfire might have been just as conspicuous.
I wanted to be in third period with Viv, to show her the texts and for her to roll her eyes dismissively. But when I got there, she was in her seat, playing with the tail end of her braid, talking to Jess, who was perched on Viv’s desk like they were long-lost best friends. Most casual thing in the world.
I ducked into my desk. Hid my bandaged hand between my knees.
Conner entered the classroom just then. His attention snapped right to me. He hammered his knuckles on my desk. “Hey, Iz. Waiting for your reply.”
Iz. Not Icky. Not Ickadora. Not Rags and Riches or Rags and Bitches or Gasbags and Witches or any of the variations his friends came up with. “Don’t hold your breath,” I muttered, averting my eyes. He snickered as he threw himself into his seat.
? ? ?
“Why’d you ignore me before class?” Viv asked as we headed for our lockers after the bell released us. I led her by the wrist into the restroom. A girl was at the sink, close up to the mirror, inspecting the pores on her nose. I closed us into the handicapped stall. Viv was wearing her poppy-red sunglasses.
“Why was Jess talking to you?” I said, barely audible.
She shrugged a shoulder nonchalantly and tilted her head to the ceiling as if basking in the sun. “She wanted a crumb of my attention.” She dropped her chin. “Is that so hard to believe?”
“Um, yeah.”
She lifted the glasses. “Campbell Avers was over Lorin Yu’s house Saturday night.” Lorin lived across our street from Viv. “Campbell ducked into the orchard to smoke. Walked a little too deep and saw the light. He thought we were having a bonfire and that a bonfire meant beer. He was stoned so most of what he saw he’s hazy on.”
I pressed a thumb between my eyes. “I’m having an aneurysm. What did he see?”
“Us. Stripping. He watched until he saw me waving the knife.”
My hand went to my throat. “Oh my god.”
“Deep breath.”
“He saw us taking off our clothes,” I whispered. “He saw you with the dagger. What if someone connects that with—” I held four fingers up, not daring to say it. She slid her glasses back on. “Why are you smiling?”
“Dramatics become you, my darling. Maybe it’s the lighting in here.” She gazed up at the window near the ceiling. “Maybe I need to take bathroom selfies.”
I grimaced, feeling sheepish. “Maybe I’m being a little paranoid.”
She flicked her braid behind her shoulder. “Listen. Campbell told Trent, and Trent told Conner, and Conner told Amanda, who told Jess and Rachel. Campbell thought he saw more than just four of us. They think we had some epic naked bonfire. That’s all. Let them feel excluded for once. Jess was just juicing me for info.”
“But you didn’t tell her anything.”
“No way. Screw Amanda and her suckface friends.”
I chewed on the end of my ponytail and nodded. “They think we had a party. Okay. No crisis. They’ll get distracted by lunchtime and be done with us like that.” I snapped my fingers.
“Exactly,” Viv echoed my sentiment. She squeezed my shoulders. “Now I’ve really got to pee.”
? ? ?
We were gathered in the barn that evening. I was trying to finish my homework fast, which wasn’t easy since the beginning of the school year grace period with a lighter workload was over.
Harry sat beside me at the round table. Graham and Viv were talking on the couch. Their airy, hard-to-grasp sentences kept zipping past my ears. I strained to put together what they were discussing. The Order? Conner? Amanda?
“You guys are giving me FOMO,” I said.
Graham and Viv’s heads pulled apart, and Graham blinked at me through his spectacles. “Say again?”
“FOMO,” Harry replied. “Fear of missing out.”
Graham snorted. “Is that what the kids are saying these days?”
“What are you guys whispering about?” I asked, not in a humoring mood.
Viv and Graham exchanged a meaningful look.
Viv set her hands primly in her lap and said, “We’re comparing what we know about the girl.”
I shoved my calculus text away a second after Harry closed his book. We relocated opposite the sofa. Graham rubbed his chin where he’d been allowing a few strawberry-blond hairs to sprout. “The unknowns outnumber the knowns,” he said. “None of us know who killed the girl, or who dumped her on the rock, or who left her T-shirt on the rocks to look like wings. We don’t know if the perpetrator was one individual or if there were multiple perpetrators involved. There’s no physical evidence left over. The case is five years ice cold. There’s likely no solving it. But we do know who’s to blame for that.”
“Denton,” Viv said.
“Yes. He was the lead officer on the case,” Graham continued. “When someone dies and it’s obviously foul play, there should be an investigation.”
“It’s like everybody agreed to make it go away,” Viv said. “And then a few years later, the same thing happened with Harry’s dad’s attack.”
Harry stopped chewing the side of his thumbnail. “But it’s the girl I want us to help, not my dad.”
Graham looked reluctant to accept this. “You’re sure?”