During my first period class the next morning, I was called to the principal’s office.

When the teacher gave me the message, I stood on shaky legs and looked over at Penny-Love. She whispered, “What’s he want with you?”

“Haven’t a clue,” I lied.

“Weird. But it’s probably nothing.”

“Yeah.” I hid my worry with a shrug. “Probably nothing.”

“Dunlap is okay,” she added as I shoved my book into my backpack. “Those rumors about him slamming a kid against a wall are exaggerated. And I don’t think he really broke Nick’s arm.”

Gulping, I glanced over at Josh. He gave me a thumbs-up gesture.

As my footsteps echoed in the near-empty school hall, I had a déjà vu moment. Walking down a hall in a different school, passing students who pointed and stared. Fearful whispers. “Witch.” “Voodoo Queen.” “Devil’s Daughter.” “Freak.” Summoned before a different principal, the school board, and a committee of “concerned parents.” Reading a petition, but unable to finish because my eyes filled with tears. My mother arriving with clicking heels, then leaving with a slammed door. Her fury and shame directed at me as we drove away, never to return.

“The principal wants to see me?” I asked the secretary who glanced up from her computer when I entered the office.

“Are you Sabine Rose?”

“Yes.”

With a black pen, she crossed off my name from a typed list. “Please go inside. He’s expecting you.”

I reached for the door and turned the knob.

“Good morning, Miss Rose,” Principal Dunlap greeted in a hearty tone. He was not a typical high–school principal. He was nicknamed “the Cowboy” because he wore denim and cowboy boots instead of a suit and tie. A gold belt buckle gleamed with the outline of a bucking bronco as he stood and introduced a stocky uniformed man sitting off to the side. “Let me introduce Officer Peters. He’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?” I asked, afraid I already knew the answer.

“Sunday night’s vandalism and the assault on Mr. Watkins.”

Oh, that, I thought nervously.

“Nothing to be nervous about,” the principal added. “Only some routine questions. Are you comfortable with that?”

“I—I guess.”

Officer Peters gestured for me to sit across from him and picked up a pen and notepad. “Where were you Sunday evening around nine-thirty?”

“At a friend’s house. But what does this have to do with—”

“Jillian Grossmer,” he interrupted in a crisp tone. “1396 Sapphire Way. Attending a cheerleading meeting?”

“Yes.”

Dunlap drummed his fingers on his desk. “But you aren’t a cheerleader.”

“They’re my friends. So I hang out with them.” I clasped my hands, staring down at my fingers, remembering paint smudges.

“Miss Grossmer confirmed that,” Officer Peters said, reading from his notes. “She also said that you left early.”

“Yes.”

“Did you walk home?”

“Yes. It’s not too far.”

“You reside with your grandmother.” Another glance at his notes. “At 29 Lilac Road?”

“Uh-huh.” My heart quickened, and I wished I could read his mind. But I was too nervous to know my own thoughts, much less understandsomeone else’s.

Officer Peters stood swiftly and reached around back—and I sucked in a deep breath, expecting him to grab handcuffs and read me my rights. But all he held out was a photograph. “On your walk home Sunday, did you happen to see any of these individuals?”

It was a photo of a group of jocks from our rival school. Relieved, I answered truthfully, “No.”

“Are you acquainted with any of these young men?”

I shook my head.

“But you know who they are?”

“Who doesn’t? Our football team slaughtered their team thirty-two to seven.”

“On your walk home last night, did you notice anyone suspicious entering or leaving the school?”

“No. No one at all.”

And then I was excused.

* * *

At lunch, everyone was still talking about the vandalism. It turned out that a lot of students had been questioned, so it wasn’t just me. I wasn’t even a suspect. Yet.

During my journalism class, I pulled Manny aside and asked anxiously, “Have you found out anything?”

“I’m working on it. I got some ideas who might be involved.”

“Who?”

“Can’t talk here.” He looked around. “Meet me by the library after school for a surprise.”

“New information?”

“Even better.” He smiled wickedly. “Get ready to be blown away.”

An image of ruby red flower petals with long thorny stems popped into my head, and I smelled roses. “What do roses have to do with it?”

He wagged a finger at me. “No using your woo-woo powers on me.”

“I wasn’t! Images just pop in my head sometimes.”

“Try to imagine some fame and fortune in my future,” he teased. Then someone called his name and he left.

During class, I thought about the roses. Was it a clue? Had the vandals hidden something in a rose bush? Did they live near a rose garden? Or did it have something to do with my last name, “Rose”? But that didn’t feel right. The connection wasn’t to me.

When the final bell rang, I hurried to my locker, dumped the books I didn’t need for homework, and went straight to the library.

When I saw Manny, I almost turned around because he wasn’t alone. He was deep in conversation with a Goth girl I’d seen a few times around school. Her dramatic appearance screamed “I’m a freak and proud of it!” Her sleek black hair glittered with gold sparkles and her eyes were shaded in heavy black kohl shadows. Gaudy rings crowded on her petite fingers, gold hoops pierced through her eyebrows, and a metal chain dog collar encircled her neck.

I ducked behind a corner, curious. Was Manny part of the Goth crowd? I didn’t think so. From what I knew of him, he purposely shunned all groups, creating his own unique style. So maybe this girl had some information about the vandalism.

“Hey, Manny,” I said, stepping forward.

“There you are.” Manny waved. “We’ve been waiting.”

“So you’re Sabine.” The girl studied me, her gray eyes narrowed critically. “Manny was telling me about you.”

“Oh?” I shot Manny a warning look.

“Yeah. Like how you help him on the Shout-Out.” She looked at me hard for a few moments, as if sizing me up. “Is that your natural hair color?”

I nodded. Manny was just looking at both of us, a slight smile on his face.

“That black streak is wicked,” she added. “With some streaks of red—”

“Thanks, I like my hair the way it is,” I said, sounding unintentionally bitchy.

“Suit yourself.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to Manny. “Listen, Manny, I gotta go.”

“Not yet.” Manny grabbed her arm.

“I should be the one to go,” I said uncomfortably.

“Neither of you is going anywhere. Not until I tell you my surprise,” he insisted “Or actually introduce her.”

“Her? Your surprise is a person?”

“Yeah.” Manny gestured with a dramatic sweep of his arm to the Goth girl. “Sabine, meet Thorn. Your new partner.”