“As most of you probably know by now, your friend and classmate Gretchen Meyer passed away over the weekend.” The principal’s normally calm, authoritative voice wavers over the sound system into the pin-drop-silent room. My vision clouds. Haley grasps my hand. “Gretchen was a bright light in these halls. Her absence is already keenly felt throughout our community. This is a difficult time for all of us, and we want you to know the staff and administrators of Hurlburt High are here to listen as we come together in this time of mourning. Grief counselors will also be available this week through the guidance office.” Her voice breaks and she takes an extra moment to collect herself. “If you’ll please remain seated, Sheriff Wood would like to say a few words on personal safety in the days and weeks ahead.”
I blink at the stage, as if I’m in some kind of bizarre dream. Any second I’ll wake up to find myself sleeping over in Gretchen’s big white canopy bed. She’ll laugh at me about the whole thing. We’ll creep downstairs, heat up Pop-Tarts for breakfast, and joke about how shocked everyone was over her death. She always had a morbid sense of humor. When Kirsten was eleven, she almost choked to death eating Skittles. Her dad walked into the room just in time, but Gretchen gave Kirsten a big bag of Skittles for her birthday every year after that.
Sheriff Wood approaches the microphone with his hat in his hands. I’ve always gotten the sense he loves his job, but even from across the room I can see that his usual affable smile is gone. My mom used to tease that he’d make a better movie sheriff than a real one; that he looks too much like a young Robert Redford to be taken seriously. Today he appears every inch the person in charge, though it’s clear in this moment he’d rather be doing just about any other job.
“I’ll just say briefly that I knew Gretchen Meyer, and I think I speak for us all in saying her death marks a tragic loss to our community.” He clears his throat. “I’m here today in part because we need your help. Gretchen attended a party the night she died, and some of you may have seen or heard something that could help our investigation.” My friends and I look at one another. “A few of you have already spoken to us, but even the most trivial details may prove helpful, and I encourage you to come forward.”
Deputy Robson appears from the wings and hands the sheriff a piece of paper. He looks at it and gives her a small nod.
“In light of recent events, the mayor’s office has agreed to issue a temporary curfew of nine p.m. for those under the age of eighteen.” A low grumble erupts through the crowd, but there’s still enough fear in their eyes that no one actually protests. “We don’t feel there’s any reason to panic, but we ask that you exercise good common sense. Be aware of other people and your surroundings at all times. Don’t go out alone at night. If you see something suspicious, call the sheriff’s office to report it.”
A hand shoots up somewhere in the front row. “Is it true there’s a big reward for whoever catches the guy?”
Sheriff Wood’s face tightens. “Gretchen’s father, Carlton Meyer, is offering a generous reward—fifty thousand dollars—for any information leading to the arrest of the person responsible, but I want to emphasize that this is a police matter. Please do not put yourselves in a dangerous situation by trying to get involved.”
Another murmur passes through the audience and I clasp my hands. Fifty thousand dollars. Surely if anyone out there knows something, they’ll have to come forward now.
Principal Bova returns to make some closing remarks and the bell rings. Everyone floods out the doors for their classes. A couple of girls embrace just in front of me, wiping away tears.
“This is so scary,” one of them says.
“I just want to graduate and get away to college.”
I close my eyes and wait for them to go, missing Gretchen between the slow beats of my heart. We’d only found out where we were each going to college last month. I’d been awarded a scholarship to the University of Pennsylvania and Gretchen was headed to Stanford, on the opposite side of the country. She was upset we’d be apart and I was hurt she couldn’t just be happy for me. We’d ended up fighting about it.
“Just wait, I’ll find a way to keep us together,” she said.
“What are you going to do?” I snapped. “Bring Pennsylvania closer to California? Even you can’t do that.”
My eyes sting at the memory of her face. How her expression went blank, then closed before she turned away. In truth, I was looking forward to some time apart. Gretchen and I were so close, but she wasn’t always the easiest person to be around. We listened to music she liked, went places she wanted to go. But I couldn’t remember a time without her, what it was like to exist by myself. I only wanted a little distance. I never asked for . . . this.
I wish I’d said something, anything different. Let her know I’d truly miss her.
Now I’ll never have the chance.
FIVE
BY FOURTH PERIOD, AT LEAST one person in every class has burst into tears and had to leave, but I’ve managed to hold myself together. I don’t know how. I head for psychology on autopilot, but stop as soon as I’m through the door. Gretchen and I shared this class. Her empty desk greets me like a ghost in the front row. I take a breath, try to move my feet forward, but someone bumps me from behind and my vision goes black. I freeze, afraid I’m about to pass out, but then cold hands close around my throat. My heart races, my ears fill with the sound of rushing water, my own ragged gasps. I scratch and pry at the fingers on my neck until I finally manage to scream.
“Sonia?”