I knew as soon as I stepped out of my car when I got to school that news of Jade’s role in the hit-and-run and Alex’s detainment by the police had spread far and wide. The speed of sound is nothing to the speed of gossip in a small town. Students were clustered in groups, and the air practically thrummed with new questions and accusations. I put my new headphones on and turned up the music as high as I could stand it before I left the parking lot. It had to be one of Will’s songs, since I didn’t recognize it.

I had my head down checking out the band’s name and almost ran into the back of some girl. A noisy crowd was gathering around the front walk, staring at something going on under the overhang. A few boys were standing on the railing and holding on to the edge of the roof to keep them steady while they watched. I went around to sneak a peek at the edge of the crowd, insinuating myself in between the edge of the building and a couple of sophomore boys who were shouting.

Alex and Will stood facing each other, their backpacks discarded at their feet. Will’s back was to me, but I could see Alex’s face clearly even as the sophomores were jostling for position beside me. His eyebrows were drawn down, his eyes hard and flat. He looked ready to do battle, his fists up and his feet dancing lightly on the ground. Will had his hands up, palms out. He looked small compared to Alex, even though he was nearly as tall.

“Stop it!” I shouted, but there was so much noise I was sure neither one of them heard me. Where were the teachers? I yanked my headphones out and tried to shove past the boys but merely got scraped against the brick wall for my trouble.

“You’re making a big mistake,” Will was saying. “Just back off, man. I’m sure the police are on their way already. You don’t want to get yourself in any more trouble than you’re already in, do you?” He sounded calm, lightly bouncing on the balls of his feet, as if poised to dodge out of the way if Alex actually did attack.

“Trouble is welcome to knock today,” I said. “It’s too late for anything but.” No one paid any attention, of course.

“Shut up!” shouted Alex. “You’re the one who started this!” He moved forward and took a quick jab. Will ducked, Alex’s fist only catching a bit of his hair. Alex struck again immediately, and this time his fist connected solidly with Will’s face, just missing his left eye. It was probably my imagination, but I swear I heard the dull smack of flesh even over the noise of the crowd.

Will stumbled back and tripped over his book bag, going down over the top of it. Alex fell on top of him, both fists flying, his face contorted beyond recognition, wordless guttural sounds coming out of his mouth. The crowd was screaming with him, a wave of sound that surrounded me. There were no questions being shouted, just cheers and jeers, but I still felt like I couldn’t breathe. Will had his arms up, protecting his head. He wasn’t even trying to fight back, though I don’t know if it would have done him any good if he had tried. Alex looked unstoppable, as if in a trance.

One of the sophomore boys leaped into the air, his fist pumping. I couldn’t tell if he was rooting for Alex, sympathizing with Will, or just intoxicated by the violence. What was the matter with kids at this school? He fell against me as he came down, grinding my wounded shoulder into the brick wall. I gasped and closed my eyes against the pain and the noise. I struggled to worm my way out of the throng, my arm scraping against the wall, leaving some skin behind.

I finally made it out and stumbled a few steps away, then leaned against the wall to catch my breath. The steel door burst open next to me, and I barely caught it before it slammed into me. Principal James, a security guard, and a couple of teachers ran forward and began pulling people out of the way as they worked their way in to the fight.

I put my headphones back in with shaking fingers and slipped into the building. The refrain harder and harder to breathe echoed in my head.

I KEPT MY HEAD down all morning, plugged in, ignoring the teachers, and they obliged by ignoring me back. First period was a lost cause anyway. Everyone was consumed by the fight, boys reenacting it and girls discussing it to death. Mr. German didn’t even notice me in the back corner. “We’re here to talk fistulas instead of fists,” he shouted at one point. I almost felt sorry for him.

By my second-period English class, the word was out that Alex had been suspended for three weeks. The police had been called, and it was up to Will’s family to decide whether or not they wanted to press charges. There was no real word on Will’s condition. From the little I overheard, either he was in the emergency room with multiple broken bones or he was perfectly fine and laughing it off. I knew the only who could tell me the truth was Will himself.

I kept the cords on my earbuds hidden in the strands of my hair and kept the music going until I got to home ec. Mrs. Pratt was eagle-eyed but still firmly living in oblivion. Nothing fazed her.

“Music off, Aria, please!” she said brightly as I came into the room. “Participation counts!”

I complied, hoping she’d get caught in a sugar high later so I could put them back in. I pushed past Delilah, who had once again drawn a crowd—not that I was surprised. I knew she’d be first on the receiving end of accusations about Jade’s possible involvement with the hit-and-run. I tried to ignore a pang of guilt, but it was impossible. Delilah was livid.

“There’s no way! It’s absolutely ridiculous!” she shouted. Her eyes were dry, and her face was flushed. I had to hand it to her: she, for one, had not yet forgotten or given up.

“So I guess you think the police are making it up,” said Shelley smugly. “I heard they found part of his scalp on the underside of her bumper, and there was still hair attached!” She looked entirely too happy to be relating such gruesome news. Perhaps she watched a lot of crime dramas on TV, but I didn’t. My stomach turned at the image she gave me.

“I don’t care,” said Delilah. “She didn’t do it. Maybe Alex planted evidence or something. I don’t know. I just know Jade couldn’t have been involved! She would have told me!”

I kept my mouth shut. I knew for a fact that Jade had been there. It made sense actually, the more I thought about it. Why couldn’t Delilah see that? It explained that whole scene in the bathroom with Jade crying her eyes out. She wasn’t the type of person to witness something so horrific without being touched by it. And that was the key: anyone could witness something horrible without participating or even interfering. The fight this morning was proof enough of that.

“Girls, girls,” said Mrs. Pratt, “let’s move on. Time for a new topic! Today we’re going to be learning about how to properly set a table!” She held up a fistful of silverware. “Grab a basket of supplies!”

Shelley couldn’t resist one more dig. “You could always ask Alex’s new girl toy over there. Maybe she knows.” She grinned between Delilah and me, vicious as a feral wolf.

“We’re going to start with the plate!” said Mrs. Pratt brightly.

I flushed and pretended to ignore Shelley, though I was sure anyone could tell how much I was starting to hate that girl. Was it possible to train yourself not to go red in the face? I grabbed a basket and walked to my normal table, keeping my back to the rest of the room. Maybe I should start wearing makeup after all.

I took out the pieces one by one, concentrating on the task and drawing it out to waste time. Plate, knife, fork, napkin, another fork, spoon, glass.

“Aria,” said Delilah. She was standing behind me, but I didn’t turn around.

“Delilah,” I said.

She was quiet for a minute. Then she walked around the table to stand opposite me. “I need to ask you something. Do you remember last week in the bathroom?”

“I remember,” I said. It was the last time I saw Jade. How could I forget? I stopped shuffling the silverware around.

Delilah picked up the glass, turning it around and around in her hands. “Jade was really upset that day.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“She never did tell me what was bothering her before she … you know.” She set the glass down and looked me directly in the eye. “But you seemed to … to know something.”

“I didn’t,” I said quickly. “I don’t.”

“I mean, looking back …” She glanced around the room, presumably to see if Shelley was paying any attention, but she had moved on to torturing some other girl. She leaned toward me and whispered. “Looking back … maybe what they’re saying about the hit-and-run is true.” She cringed, like she couldn’t believe she’d said it out loud.

I wasn’t sure what to say. So I nodded and said nothing.

That wasn’t enough for Delilah. “Do you think it’s true?”

“Yes,” I said. Yet another confirmation.

She slumped down, elbows on the table, hands on her head, her hair sticking out between her fingers. A single tear built in the corner of her right eye and trembled there.

I took a quick glance around the room. No one was paying any attention to us, not even Mrs. Pratt, who was dealing with a silverware catastrophe.

“It’s not your fault,” I said, reaching my hand out but stopping short of touching her.

She didn’t seem to hear me. “If I’d just made her tell me, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe she’d be here, and he’d be in jail. I mean, why did she have to die? Why?”

“To shut her up,” I spit out, feeling sick. A fork fell from my fingers and clattered against the table.

That got her attention. She lifted her head to look at me, the tear finally falling. She opened her mouth to say something, maybe to ask something else, but I held up my hand.

“Delilah,” I said, my voice shaky, “can you keep a secret?”