THE REST OF THE SCHOOL day was a blur as Caitlin tried—and failed—to focus on classes and soccer practice. In chemistry, she kept watching the door, sure someone was going to burst in and announce that Ashley Ferguson was dead. At soccer, she kept her phone on her—much to Coach Leah’s chagrin—waiting for a call that the police wanted to see her again. Or, even worse, a text that said that someone else on their list was dead. She kept one eye on Ursula Winters, too, wondering if Ursula was behind all this. She was in their film studies class. Had she heard their conversation that day? Was that why Ursula was snickering as she took a long pull from her Gatorade bottle? Were those scratches on Ursula’s arms from a struggle with Ashley Ferguson in her house?
But why?
Caitlin avoided her new friends, too, freaked out by the conversation with Ava and Mac that morning. Not that they wanted to talk to her anyway. When Ava saw her at the end of the hall between fourth and fifth periods, she turned and walked in the opposite direction. When she and Mac were next to each other in the cafeteria line, Mac shifted to the salad line to avoid speaking with her. And on top of everything, Jeremy was also avoiding her. Although maybe she was avoiding him, too. They’d had a few stilted conversations after their botched date on Satuday, but Caitlin could tell he was still upset . . . and maybe she was still upset, too. She’d left him message after message the night of the concert, trying to apologize and reason with him. He was seeing this as so black and white.
On top of all that, her appointment with Dr. Rose was this afternoon. She walked into the police station so on edge that she felt like even her eyelids were trembling. She felt guilty—for everything. Which didn’t even make sense. Just because she’d been part of a conversation where a bunch of girls named people they wouldn’t mind seeing dead—and said enemies then died—didn’t make her a murderer. It wasn’t like her words were magic or they were God. But what was happening? Who was doing this?
Could it be one of them?
“Sit down, Caitlin,” Dr. Rose said, gesturing to a chair across from her. Caitlin sat stiffly, her hands in her lap. The clock ticked noisily in the corner. Caitlin stared at the spines on the books in the corner. They were all technical psychological journals that would probably put her to sleep.
“So.” Dr. Rose tapped her nails on her clipboard. “I heard a girl went missing at school today.”
Caitlin’s head whipped up. She hadn’t expected Dr. Rose to talk about that. “Uh, yeah,” she said as casually as she could. “Ashley Ferguson.”
“Do you know her?”
Caitlin shook her head. “Not really. She was in a few of my classes, that’s all.”
“Film studies, right?”
A chill went up Caitlin’s spine. What did Dr. Rose know? “Uh, yeah,” she said vaguely.
“The man who taught that class recently died, didn’t he?”
Her heard pounded fast. “Yeah.”
Dr. Rose made a note. Caitlin was almost positive it had something to do with the Granger–breaking into his house–film studies–Ashley connection. God, this all looked so bad for her. “So did Ashley ever give you any trouble? I heard she was a bit of a bully.”
Caitlin shook her head with an honest no. “I barely knew her.”
“But she was giving someone trouble, wasn’t she? Someone you know?”
Caitlin felt a pull in her chest. “Well, maybe,” she said in a small voice.
“You can tell me who it is.” Dr. Rose leaned forward. “Everything you tell me here is confidential.”
It was weird: At school when they were talking, Caitlin had felt like she couldn’t trust the other girls anymore, that it was every man for himself at this point. But now, faced with a cop—well, kind of a cop, anyway—she couldn’t bring herself to tell on Julie. It felt like a huge betrayal. Julie was nice and sweet. She didn’t deserve the way Ashley had treated her, and she couldn’t be capable of murder.
“Ashley sent that email to the whole school about Julie’s mom being a hoarder, didn’t she?” Dr. Rose said smoothly.
Caitlin blinked. So Dr. Rose already knew. “Something like that.”
“Then she put kitty litter in Julie’s locker, and she posted a picture on Instagram. Is that right?”
Caitlin lowered her eyes. The cops were checking Instagram now?
“Did Julie seem upset by what Ashley was doing to her?” Dr. Rose asked.
Something in Caitlin broke loose. “Of course she did,” she blurted. “Anyone would be. Ashley was so, so mean—and Julie had done nothing to deserve it. Julie’s a good person. She would never hurt anybody, not even a bully.”
“There was a situation in your life where someone you loved was bullied, right?”
Caitlin froze. “Well, yes,” she said in a muffled voice. “My brother, Taylor. Nolan Hotchkiss picked on him. And then he killed himself.”
“So you’re a little sensitive about bullies, aren’t you?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
Dr. Rose wrote something on her notepad. Caitlin wished she could see what it was. Did it say Caitlin had extra motive to hurt Nolan?
“I didn’t do anything,” she said suddenly.
“I’m not saying you did,” Dr. Rose replied pleasantly.
Afterward, in her car, Caitlin almost ran two red lights and crashed into an oncoming school bus, she was so distracted. It was so hard to read what Dr. Rose had thought of her. Did she suspect Caitlin now? Did she suspect Julie? Or was she just good at asking annoying questions?
She drove without knowing where she was going, finding herself at Jeremy’s house even though she hadn’t called to say she was coming. She stopped at the curb, grabbed her keys, and let herself in—something she’d been doing for years. This was the first time she’d done it for Jeremy, though, not Josh, and that felt a little weird.
She found Jeremy in the den, watching a black-and-white zombie movie that she vaguely remembered Taylor watching once. The memory made her smile a little. “Hey,” she said quietly.
Jeremy didn’t look up. “Hey.”
Caitlin’s stomach swooped. She needed him now. Badly. She walked over and sat next to him, trying to lean into his side, but his shoulder was stiff. Finally he put a hand on her knee, gave it a squeeze, then took it off again. At least it was something . . . but it wasn’t enough.
“How was your day?” she asked, turning to look at him. But he kept his eyes on the screen, where a zombie was tearing into a cow.
“Pretty good.”
No question about how her day was. No details about the zombie movie they were watching. No comment even about the freaking weather—she’d take anything at this point.
“So you’re still mad at me?” she finally asked.
Jeremy looked down at the floor for a moment. “I’m trying. I really am. It might just take me a little while longer to get past it.”
“Okay.” At least he was being honest about his feelings. She took his hand. “Well, will you let me know when you’re totally past it so we can make out again?”
Jeremy couldn’t help but chuckle. “Okay.”
Before Caitlin could say anything else, she heard an awkward clomping and shuffling sound, and Josh appeared in the doorway. His face was red from exertion, and he leaned heavily on his crutches. His left foot and lower leg were completely swallowed up by an enormous cast. Only his toes peeked out. When he saw Caitlin and Jeremy, his face clouded a little. Caitlin felt Jeremy’s body tense up next to her on the couch.
Caitlin dropped Jeremy’s hand and shifted forward. “That thing’s massive,” she said, pointing at the cast. She couldn’t just pretend Josh wasn’t here.
“Yeah.” Josh started clomping toward the laundry room.
“How bad is your break?” she asked.
He paused in front of the TV. “Pretty bad. I may not be able to start next year.”
Caitlin widened her eyes. “Holy crap. I’m sorry.” Once again, she couldn’t help but think it had been her fault.
Josh just shrugged. “I mean, what can I do? I’ll hit physical therapy hard. I’ll try my best, but if I can’t start, I can’t start. The UDub coach has promised I’ll still have the scholarship.”
Caitlin was stunned by his calm demeanor. She would have guessed Josh would be a hostile mess. If he was in a bad mood, he usually went outside and kicked the ball around for a while. He never seemed as relaxed or happy as he did after a long practice. But here he was, totally sidelined—with even his college career in jeopardy—and he seemed . . . okay.
“Uh, can you move?” Jeremy broke the silence. “I can’t see.”
Josh looked at his brother for a beat, then shrugged and passed by, making his slow, painful progress across the room again. Caitlin watched him recede, noting that he hadn’t said anything nasty to Jeremy about his choice in movies, or made Caitlin feel awkward at all for being here with his brother. When had Josh become so mature? Had breaking up with her done that?
Then she turned and looked at Jeremy, surprised at his nastiness. Jeremy met her gaze for a moment, his eyes narrowed, his features sharp and on alert. He looked like he was about to defend himself . . . or maybe bite her head off. On instinct, Caitlin flashed him a reassuring smile. I’m with you, she hoped her look told him as she pushed thoughts of Josh out of her head. There’s no need to be jealous.
It seemed to defuse the tension. Jeremy’s face relaxed into an almost sheepish expression. “Uh, thanks!” he yelled toward Josh, and though it was totally fake, Caitlin appreciated the effort.
“So, where were we?” she asked teasingly, sliding closer to him. “Oh, that’s right—we were scheduling our next make-out session.”
Jeremy put his arm around her. Still mystified by the confused thoughts she’d had about Josh, Caitlin leaned into Jeremy and felt his body soften as she curled into him, pressing close together, forming a perfect curve.