Voices swirled around them the moment they stepped inside the dining hall. Heads turned as they walked past. Katie felt like everyone in the room was watching them and whispering. Mark didn’t seem to notice, but then he was used to being the center of attention. It made Katie uneasy.

Had the whole school already heard about her panic attack at the morgue?

She stared down at her feet, hanging on to Mark’s hand as he headed toward the lunch line.

“Hey, bro! Over here!” A whoop rose from a table filled with Mark’s teammates, and Katie caught Steve Getty waving wildly at them.

To her dismay, Mark let go of her hand and walked straight in Steve’s direction.

Katie glared at Tessa. “Look what you started,” she said, and went after him.

“Summers, you dog!” Steve smirked as Mark approached. He stepped over the bench and gave Mark a slap on the back. “I might’ve expected it from you, but not her,” he added, eyebrows arching as Katie approached. “Guess she just pretends to be shy, huh?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Mark asked, shaking off Steve’s arm. He dropped Katie’s book bag. “You can stir shit with me all you want, but leave Katie out of it.”

“Mark?” Katie stepped between them. “Let’s go get lunch.”

“Yeah, don’t mind me.” Steve threw his hands up, backing off. “Just thought I’d give you a heads-up about the picture going viral, that’s all.”

“What picture?” Katie asked, and she glanced at Charlie, Mark’s best friend on the hockey squad. Though he sat at the table next to Steve, he didn’t even look up. “What’s going on?”

“Getty must be bored with sending pics of his hairy ass to everyone.” Mark snatched up her book bag and grabbed her hand. “Sounds like he’s playing cut and paste with Photoshop.”

“It’s your funeral!” Steve called after them.

Katie glanced back over her shoulder to see Steve grinning—but there was something else in his face. Something raw and angry. “He’s not exactly your biggest fan, is he?”

“The feeling’s mutual,” Mark said.

Katie saw Charlie get up, like he wanted to come after Mark, but Steve clamped a hand on his shoulder and he settled back into his seat.

“Aren’t you curious?” Katie asked as they got in line and Mark handed her a tray. “Don’t you want to see for yourself?”

“Nah.” Mark shrugged. “Knowing Steve, he’s stuck my head on some porno dude’s body. I’d kind of like to eat my lunch, not lose it.”

Katie couldn’t let it go. “What if it’s not that at all? What if he’s got a shot of you drinking? That could keep you from playing in the state championship, maybe even bar you from graduation, no matter who your dad is,” Katie said, her mind whirring. She wouldn’t put anything past Steve Getty. Ever since he’d shown up at Whitney in the middle of last semester, he’d needed to be the star. Except Mark had that covered.

“Relax. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Mark insisted, sounding agitated. He slapped a plate of spaghetti on his tray, then headed to the nearest table, dropping their book bags on the floor.

Maybe he didn’t notice people staring at them, but Katie did. And this time, she could tell that it wasn’t because Mark stood out in a crowd. Something was clearly up, and Steve Getty was behind it.

“Why’s everyone acting weird?” Tessa asked as she joined them at the table. “Do I have toilet paper stuck to my shoes? Is my skirt tucked into my underwear?”

“It’s not you,” Katie said.

Tessa shrugged and started twirling spaghetti onto her fork.

Katie watched Mark pick at his food, pushing it around with his fork. What wasn’t he telling her?

She opened her mouth to ask again if there wasn’t something he was keeping from her. But Katie felt a presence behind her even before she heard someone clearing their throat.

She turned to find Joelle Needham clutching an iPad to her oversized chest.

Katie had to bite her tongue to keep from asking Joelle if she ordered her Whitney blazer too small on purpose.

“Wow, don’t you look bummed,” Mark’s ex-girlfriend said, her glossy lips pouting. “But I guess I’d be, too, if I knew everyone was eyeballing a pic of me naked. Good thing the lighting sucks. That hides a lot of flaws.” Joelle smiled at Katie. “You should thank God for that, sweetie.”

“Who’s naked?” Katie looked at Mark. “What’s she rambling about?”

He shook his head. “What do you want, Jo?” he asked, dropping his fork to his plate with a clatter. “Get to the point. I’m not in the mood.”

Joelle frowned. “Looks like you’ve been caught in the act, as if you didn’t know. But it’s obvious Katie’s still in the dark or she’d be hiding in her room at Amelia House, dying of embarrassment.” She set her tablet down in front of them. “Not your best angle either, babe,” she said lightly, and gave Mark’s shoulder a squeeze.

Katie’s gaze dropped to the screen. “OMG,” she breathed. And for a second, it felt like her heart stopped.

The image was fuzzy, the lighting as bad as Joelle had mentioned. But there was no question who it was: a bare-naked Mark, his eyes closed, lips parted, head back so that his neck arched, revealing the medallion caught in the hollow of his throat. As if the shadowed outlines of his features weren’t enough to identify him, there was also the soaring eagle tattoo on his right bicep. Katie would have recognized it anywhere.

“Aw, don’t look so sad. Cellulite’s not the end of the world,” Joelle said, and gave Katie a nudge. “Besides, you’ve got all that dark hair hanging down. You can pretend it’s not you.”

Katie blinked, because even she thought at first that it was her. She looked hard at the bare back and butt, the pale arms, and the brown hair falling like a thick curtain over the shoulders. The girl’s head was bent as she kissed Mark’s shoulder while her hand rested on his hip.

“It’s not,” Katie said, a sharp pain stabbing her chest. “That’s not me.”

Joelle put a finger to her chin. “Hmm, that was pretty good. I almost believed it. Practice saying it a few more times, and it might sound convincing.”

“That’s not me,” Katie repeated, anger swelling inside her.

Tessa leaned over from the other side of the table, looking at the photo upside down. “Can’t you see the tat on her hand?” she said. “Katie doesn’t have any ink.”

It wasn’t easy to spot at first glance, but the girl in the photo had the tattoo of a red rose on her hand, its stem wrapping around her wrist.

“Oh, snap,” Joelle said, squinting at her iPad and then at Katie, a tight smile playing at her lips. “You’re right. It isn’t you, is it?”

Though Katie was sure that Joelle had realized the truth all along.

“Well, I’ll bet you two have lots to talk about,” Joelle said, and reached between Katie and Mark to retrieve her tablet. “What with Mark here banging your slutty twin.”

Katie stared at Mark, not even waiting for Joelle to leave before she asked, “Who is she?” Her voice shook, and she felt hot all over, like she had the worst fever ever.

“I think it’s a girl from the party. Someone Steve brought. I barely noticed her.” Mark shook his head. His face looked pinched. “I wouldn’t cheat on you, Katie, I swear.”

“Right, he swears,” Joelle said, and tucked her iPad against her chest. She stared at Mark with what looked like hurt in her eyes. “Guess everything isn’t always what it looks like, huh?”

Mark snorted. “With you, it was exactly what it looked like.”

“You just wanted any excuse to bail,” Joelle shot back. “You wouldn’t even hear me out—”

“Let it go!” Mark stood so quickly that the bench jerked backward. “Move on, Jo, and stop with the bullshit. You know me, and this”—he poked a finger at her iPad—“isn’t who I am. Someone’s on a mission to make me look bad, and we both know who.” Mark turned to glare at Steve Getty. “The guy’s a total narcissist. It’s all about him.”

Joelle briefly touched Katie’s shoulder. “I warned you, didn’t I?”

“Mark, tell me the truth,” Katie said, standing up. She’d believed in him these past three months. Had he been with someone else?

“Good luck with that,” Joelle said softly as she headed off.

“I mean it, Mark.” Katie could hardly breathe. “Is it real or not?”

He flinched. “It might be real, but it’s not the truth,” he told her. “Steve must’ve set me up. It’s the only thing that makes sense. He gave me a beer, the one I was drinking when I got sick and passed out—”

“Wait! What?” Katie’s head spun. “You passed out?” He’d conveniently left that part out when she’d asked about the party before.

“I’ve been trying to piece things together, but I don’t remember much before I woke up in the maid’s room.” There was desperation in his voice. He reached for her, clutching her fingers. “You just have to trust me.”

“Trust you?” Katie had trusted him blindly until a minute ago. Now it wasn’t that easy. Her hands felt like ice. She looked at Tessa, who stared back across the table, her cool blue eyes watching. “So this girl with the rose tattoo, nothing happened with her, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yeah, nothing happened. At least, I don’t think so.” Mark’s face turned red. “Like I said, I can’t remember—”

“You’re kidding, right?” Katie hated the high pitch of her voice. “You can’t remember being in bed with a girl?”

He winced. “What I know is that Steve handed me a beer that made me sick. The last thing that sticks with me is talking to Charlie, telling him I needed air. After that”—he shrugged—“nothing. Why would I make something like that up?”

“No clue.” Katie wanted to believe him, she really did. “Is that all?” she asked, giving him one more chance.

“Yeah.” The muscles in his jaw started to twitch. “That’s everything I know.”

The room seemed to go freakishly quiet, or was that just her mind growing still while the rest of her world fell apart in a noisy whoosh?

Please, she thought, please let this be a joke. Am I getting punked? She swallowed and looked around, only to see the curious stares and Steve Getty’s smug face, gloating like a highway billboard.

“C’mon, Katie, you know I would never risk losing you. I would never do anything so stupid.” Mark held her arms so tightly it hurt. “It has to be Steve. There’s no other explanation. Who else would’ve taken that picture and made sure it was seen by everyone at Whitney?”

That made sense. It did. If only Katie could get the image of her boyfriend and that tattooed girl out of her head.

She stepped over the bench, snatching up her book bag from the floor. “I’ll see you later,” she said. Then she walked away, even as her legs shook beneath her.

“Katie, wait—”

But she didn’t turn around.