“Headmaster Higgins switched up the room assignments for this year. Didn’t you see it in the welcome packet? She wrote something about ‘injecting new life into our social cliques.’?”
I grit my teeth. This can’t be happening. I’m not being separated from my best friend and forced to share a bedroom with a socially inept music nerd.
“That’s awesome,” Chace says, grinning at me. “You’ll get your own private concert whenever you want.”
Yeah. Awesome, all right. But I can’t let Chace see how pissed off I am.
“Good point.” I fix a smile on my face. “I can’t wait.”
“What the future has in store,
No one ever knows before.”
“Hold on one moment, miss. No one’s leaving just yet.”
I glance up at the figure blocking my escape, and my stomach seizes. He’s wearing the telltale dark blue uniform and matching peaked cap, ammunition slung like a warning in his patrol belt. The sight of a police officer at the front of the classroom only amplifies this nightmare, and I look desperately to the door, aching to be alone, to scream and sob and try to make sense of all of this in private.
The cop does a double take when he looks at me. It’s my scar, of course. That’s the only reason anyone ever looks twice in my direction now. But I don’t care anymore. The one person I wanted to look pretty for is gone. Let me be a hideous monster for the rest of my life—if it would only bring him back.
Mr. Isaacs steps in front of me, extending his hand to the cop.
“Morning, Officer,” he says, with a grim shake of his head. “Unthinkable, isn’t it?”
The room starts to spin, pins and needles pricking at my insides, and for a moment I don’t know where I am. Then I hear fragments of the cop’s words.
“A terrible loss…We’re doing everything we can….need to speak to your students about the case.”
Mr. Isaacs finally notices me standing alongside them, my foot tapping against the linoleum floor like a soundtrack to my panic.
“Nicole, I need you back in your seat.”
But I can’t move. Brianne appears at my arm, looking at me strangely as she leads me back to our desks.
“Are you okay, Nicole? You look like you’re going to faint.”
Before I can answer, Mr. Isaacs turns to address the class.
“Everyone, I’m going to have to ask that you all please take a seat and give Officer Ladge your undivided attention.”
A nervous hush comes over the room, the kind only a police officer can inspire. Everyone makes their way back to their desks except Lana, who remains crumpled in a ball, sobbing, Stephanie and Kara at her side. The old instinct of friendship kicks in and I turn around in my seat to meet her eyes—but just as quickly, I remember, and turn back to the front of the room.
Officer Ladge steps forward.
“Let me begin by saying how deeply sorry I am for the loss of your classmate and friend. I know Chace Porter was a beloved member of the community here, and his loss will be tremendously felt. To that end, we’ve arranged for grief counselors to be on-site all week. Please take the time to speak with them. It will help.” The officer clears his throat. “But I’m afraid there’s more. The specifics of how Mr. Porter was found, and in what condition, lead us to believe foul play was involved.”
Foul play? The words swim in my head, making no sense.
“Do you mean…like, it wasn’t an accident? He was killed?” a petrified voice I recognize as Grace Levin’s calls out.
The officer pauses for a split second.
“Yes. Based on the evidence and the state of the body, we can confirm that this was a murder.”
My heart slips out of my chest as he speaks. I can practically see it flopping about pathetically on the classroom floor, ready to be stomped on and torn apart by all the feet in this room. The officer’s voice seems distorted as he resumes his speech, like a hideous recording played in slow motion.
“Our findings show that Chace was last seen alive during the early-morning hours yesterday at the off-campus party thrown by Tyler Hemming. Mr. Hemming is cooperating with us and putting together a list of everyone who attended. We’ll need to interview each of you who was there.”
I wasn’t supposed to be at the party. I wasn’t invited. But when I got the text, I couldn’t hold myself back. And now my mind can’t stop replaying the argument and the kiss, memories that are like shots to the gut now that I know they were our last. There are gaps, too—pockets of haze and time-jumps within the night that I know are the result of gulping down Tyler’s signature drink when it was handed to me. I didn’t feel the effects until later, when it was too late.
“We’ll need to speak with those closest to Mr. Porter first. Nicole Morgan, if you can please come with me—”