RILEY

In rehearsal, I try to shut out all the background noise when I move with Dez to the floor scene. It’s easy to do, because Dez is totally in character. His hands are possessive when they wrap around me, and I feel something I can’t place. Comfort? Happiness? Need? I fall into the scene with him, no longer noticing anything else in the room.

Except him.

His face is close to mine. I can smell his minty breath; it’s cool on my face as he says Jonah’s lines. It’s nice, and I find myself imagining what it would be like to be with him. Not like it could happen. He has a girlfriend, a girl from film camp he met over the summer. Allie. He says things with Allie are casual and doesn’t talk about her much. I’ve never met her—I’ve never met any of his love interests—but I have a feeling that with Allie, it’s more than he lets on.

I’ve always been jealous when Dez tells me about the girls he’s interested in. “What’s she like?” I ask every time I find a girl’s sweater in his car, or smell perfume on him after a date, or overhear a steamy phone call. Then I cringe when he gives me his standard response: “She’s cool. You know, smart, pretty, nice body.” And the worst part? The way he clears his throat before saying “nice body.” In my mind, the girls look like supermodels with long wavy hair, curvy legs, flawless skin—completely perfect in their girliness. Still, I haven’t figured out who it is that I’m jealous of. Is it the girls, for getting to be with Dez? Or is it Dez, for getting to be with the girls?

Too soon, Homer walks into rehearsal and breaks up our scene. My connection with Dez? Gone. I shake it off, realizing it was probably only in my head anyway. Homer drops a box on the desk and waves us over. A Degas statue sticks out of the cardboard and I know it’s hers. Ms. Dunn collected all the Degas dancer sculptures.

Homer says we can have her things, but I only want a statue. I want that piece of her—proud and beautiful.

Then again, there might be clues in here.

I take the box of Ms. Dunn’s things, careful not to disturb the contents.

That’s when a memory flashes of her. That last day.

“Riley, I’d like to talk to you about one of your friends,” she said. “I’m worried.”

Now I wonder. Did she want to talk about Libby?

She looked concerned when she said it, but that’s not what bothers me. There was something about the way she looked that day. The way she moved. I didn’t realize it at the time, but looking back, I think she was anxious. Scared, even.

Ms. Dunn never did tell me what friend she wanted to talk about because that afternoon a huge group of girls came in with pictures of their homecoming dresses. She shrugged her shoulders and said we’d talk later. We never got the chance.

Once I have the box in my arms, I leave Dez with Homer. Then I hear the buzz. The same buzz that floated through the hallways for weeks after Ms. Dunn’s murder, when everyone was weighing in on suspects:

I think it was that homeless guy who used to hang around the dumpsters.

Totally, he did it.

Nope, it was the janitor.

I think an old boyfriend did it.

Or maybe a girlfriend.

I snap my head around and the rumor mill comes to an abrupt stop. Then I try to sneak out to get a look inside the box. I only have a few minutes before we start filming.

Marcus catches me first.

“I always liked this one,” he says as he reaches over to touch the Degas. His thumb skims across the statue.

I don’t like him touching it. I want to keep her things pure. Or as pure as they can be, given that the police have already rifled through them. I set the box down next to my bag, pushing it out of his reach.

“So, Riley.” Marcus smiles. “You and Emma? Finito?”

“What’s it to you?” I look around the room for an excuse to get away from him. Homer and Dez are now in deep conversation and Jonah’s not here yet, so I’m stuck.

“Well, I’m interested in Emma … and I want to make sure you’re done tempting her with your … lady parts,” he says.

He’s honestly the most disgusting creature I’ve ever met.

“I’m done, Marcus,” I say. “But from what I’ve heard, she won’t be impressed by your little boy parts either.”

He stands there, trying to form a comeback while I move onto the set to see if I can help the grips. They work on lighting and sound and get very little credit for any of it, so I always try to help out when I can. I notice Stella out of the corner of my eye. She’s helping Caleb with the lighting. She doesn’t say much, but I’ve noticed that Caleb is always asking her something. It’s almost like she’s the Key Grip—the one in charge—instead of him. She doesn’t seem to mind that he takes the credit for her ideas. I like that about her—no ego issues.

I walk over to her as she positions one of the lights. “Anything I can do?” I ask.

She looks around. “Hmm, I don’t think so. We seem to be in good shape.”

I know it’s stupid, but I want to help her with something. Like she did for me in gym class.

“Hey.” I clear my throat. “I wanted to say thanks for speaking up for me.”

“What?” Stella looks confused.

“In gym.”

“Oh, that.” She rolls her eyes. “Those girls are annoying.”

“Yeah, they’re the spawn of the devil,” I say. “Don’t let their Jesus is my BFF bumper stickers fool you.”

“Amen.” Stella giggles and her entire face lights up.

I shiver. She gives me goose bumps and I’m not sure why.

“Don’t worry,” Stella adds. “I can handle Tori. We work in the office together, so I know exactly how she operates.”

Stella goes back to her lights and I take a seat next to Ms. Dunn’s things. I’m so anxious to open the box, I have to sit on my hands. I can’t go through her stuff in front of the cast and crew. It wouldn’t be right. So I wait, and pray that there’s a clue inside.