If all you knew of Bayview High was Simon Kelleher’s gossip app, you’d wonder how anyone found

time
to go to class. «Old news, Bronwyn,» says a voice over my shoulder. Simon falls into step beside me as I
move against the flow of students heading for the exit. Me getting anywhere near the bedroom of
perpetual stoner Reggie Crawley is about as likely as Simon growing a conscience.

As a general rule, and especially lately, I try to give Simon as little information as possible. We push
through green metal doors to the back stairwell, a dividing line between the dinginess of the original
Bayview High and its bright, airy new wing. Every year more wealthy families get priced out of San Diego
and come fifteen miles east to Bayview, expecting that their tax dollars will buy them a nicer school
experience than popcorn ceilings and scarred linoleum. Simon’s still on my heels when I reach Mr.
Avery’s lab on the third floor, and I half turn with my arms crossed.

Three other students are already seated, and I pause to take them in. Nate Macauley tips his chair back
and smirks at me. This is detention, not student council». » » Nate’s been in trouble since fifth grade,
which is right around the time we last spoke. »

» » » » Avery checks something off on a clipboard and closes the door behind Simon. » High arched
windows lining the back wall send triangles of afternoon sun splashing across the floor, and faint sounds
of football practice float from the field behind the parking lot below. » I take a seat as Cooper Clay,
who’s palming a crumpled piece of paper like a baseball, whispers «Heads up, Addy» and tosses it
toward the girl across from him. » Addy Prentiss blinks, smiles uncertainly, and lets the ball drop to the
floor. »

» » » » Avery is a give-detention-first, ask-questions-never kind of guy, but maybe there’s still time to
change his mind. » I clear my throat and start to raise my hand until I notice Nate’s smirk broadening.
«Avery, that wasn’t my phone you found. » Avery’s lab. »

He has a strict no-phone policy and spends the first ten minutes of every class rooting through
backpacks like he’s head of airline security and we’re all on the watch list. » » «You too?» Addy turns to
me so quickly, her blond shampoo-ad hair swirls around her shoulders. » » » «Me three,» Cooper chimes
in. » » » » «Somebody punked us!» Simon leans forward with his elbows on the desk, looking spring-
loaded and ready to pounce on fresh gossip. »

His gaze darts over all four of us, clustered in the middle of the otherwise empty classroom, before
settling on Nate. » » I look at Nate, but can’t picture it. » » » » » Cooper sits up straighter, a frown
crossing his Captain America face. » Avery rolls his eyes.
«Save the conspiracy theories for another teacher. «« You all know the rules against bringing phones to
class, and you broke them.» He gives Simon an especially sour glance. » » Simon only uses initials to
identify people and never talks openly about school. ««« Anyone who can’t follow the rules gets another
detention tomorrow». »

«What do we write with?» Addy asks. » » Avery, who looks like he should have retired a decade ago, is a
holdout. » » Avery crosses to Addy’s desk and taps the corner of a lined yellow notepad. » » Addy’s
pretty, heart-shaped face is a mask of confusion. »

» » » » » Nate grins, so quick I almost miss it. « Avery, somebody was playing a joke on us». » » Avery’s
snowy mustache twitches in annoyance, and he extends his hand with a beckoning motion. «Phone,
Miss Rojas.

«The phones I took from the rest of you earlier are in my desk. « You’ll get them back after detention.»
Addy and Cooper exchange amused glances, probably because their actual phones are safe in their
backpacks. » » Avery tosses my phone into a drawer and sits behind the teacher’s desk, opening a book
as he prepares to ignore us for the next hour. » I pull out a pen, tap it against my yellow notepad, and
contemplate the assignment. »

» » » I glance at Nate, who’s bent over his notepad writing computers suck over and over in block
letters. » » » » » » » » » That was when he started calling me Cooperstown, like the baseball hall of
fame. » » » « Kelleher,» Mr. » Avery says without looking up. » » Avery points toward the sink at the
back of the room, its counter crowded with beakers and petri dishes. »

» He heads back to his seat and puts the cup on his desk, but seems distracted by Nate’s methodical
writing. » «Dude,» he says, kicking his sneaker against the leg of Nate’s desk. » Avery looks up, frowning.
« Kelleher.» Nate leans back and crosses his arms. »

«Why would I do that?» Simon shrugs. » �One more word out of either of you and it’s detention
tomorrow,» Mr. » Avery warns. » Simon opens his mouth anyway, but before he can speak there’s the
sound of tires squealing and then the crash of two cars hitting each other. » Addy gasps and I brace
myself against my desk like somebody just rear-ended me. »

Nate, who looks glad for the interruption, is the first on his feet toward the window. » » Bronwyn looks
at Mr. » Avery like she’s asking for permission, and when he gets up from his desk she heads for the
window as well. » Addy follows her, and I finally unfold myself from my seat. » » I lean against the ledge
to look outside, and Simon comes up beside me with a disparaging laugh as he surveys the scene below.
»

Two cars, an old red one and a nondescript gray one, are smashed into each other at a right angle. » »
Avery lets out an exasperated sigh. » «I’d better make sure no one was hurt.» He runs his eyes over all of
us and zeroes in on Bronwyn as the most responsible of the bunch. » «Miss Rojas, keep this room
contained until I get back». »

«Okay,» Bronwyn says, casting a nervous glance toward Nate. » We stay at the window, watching the
scene below, but before Mr. » Avery or another teacher appears outside, both cars start their engines
and drive out of the parking lot. » «Well, that was anticlimactic,» Simon says. » He heads back to his
desk and picks up his cup, but instead of sitting he wanders to the front of the room and scans the
periodic table of elements poster. »

» «Anyone else want some water?» «I do,» Addy says, slipping into her chair. » «Get it yourself,
princess.» Simon smirks. » Addy rolls her eyes and stays put while Simon leans against Mr. » Avery’s
desk. » » Addy looks at me without answering. »

» Simon’s train of thought almost never goes anywhere good when it comes to our friends. » » » Simon
was nowhere to be found on homecoming court last week, though. » » «What’s your point, Simon?» I
ask, taking a seat next to Addy. » Addy and I aren’t close, exactly, but I kind of feel protective of her. »

» » » He thrusts his chin toward Bronwyn, then at Nate. «What about you?» Bronwyn asks. » She’s been
hovering near the window, but now goes to her desk and perches on top of it. » She crosses her legs and
pulls her dark ponytail over one shoulder. »

» » » Bronwyn’s brows rise above her black frames. » » » » He says it like a threat, and I wonder if he’s
got something on Bronwyn for that stupid app of his. » » » » » » » » » Simon holds his cup up, grimacing.
» » Even when he falls to the floor, I still think he’s messing around. »

» Bronwyn’s on her feet first, then kneeling beside him. » «Simon,» she says, shaking his shoulder. » » »
«A pen,» he says, his eyes scanning Simon’s brick-red face. » «You have a pen?» Simon nods wildly, his
hand clawing at his throat. »
I grab the pen off my desk and try to hand it to Nate, thinking he’s about to do an emergency
tracheotomy or something. » .

"What a terrible week for our school," she says. I should be thinking about Simon, but my head’s too full
of other stuff. Leah, saying the kind of things most people only think. My probation officer isn’t the
worst.

My dad is upstairs, something I always arrange before Officer Lopez comes over. She’d heard the Simon
story from her cop pals, and we spent the first half hour after she got here talking about what
happened. "She brings up The Deal every week. " San Diego County is getting tougher on juvenile drug
offenses, and she thinks I was lucky to get probation.

Officer Lopez holds out her palm to Stan, who crawls halfway toward it before he loses interest. Tell me
something positive that happened." She always says that, as if life is full of great shit I can store up and
report every Sunday. " I have people I go to parties with, sell to, and screw, but I wouldn’t call any of
them friends. ""It’s been a slow week, goal-wise.

"Did you look at that Alateen literature I left you?"

I don’t need a brochure to tell me how bad it sucks when your only parent’s a drunk, and I definitely
don’t need to talk about it with a bunch of whiners in a church basement somewhere. She’d love, just
once, to hear an actual positive thing from me. Like how I spent Friday night with Ivy League–bound
Bronwyn Rojas and didn’t disgrace myself. But that’s not a conversation I need to open up with Officer
Lopez.

So I went to Bronwyn’s instead.

" "Nate. That would be a positive thing to do. Go to that goddamn funeral, Nate Macauley, or I won’t
overlook your spotty school attendance the next time I file an update report. "Which is how I end up at
Simon Kelleher’s funeral with my probation officer. "
The smell of incense brings me back to grade school, when my mother used to take me to Mass every
Sunday. I follow their gazes to Bronwyn, who’s near the front with her parents, and to Cooper and the
blond girl, sitting in the middle with their friends. My body tenses, ready to bolt until Officer Lopez puts
a hand on my arm.

Very well then I contradict myself, …

"Song of Myself," Officer Lopez murmurs when the girl finishes. I’ve never wanted to leave anyplace so
bad in my life and I’m ready to take off before the funeral procession comes down the aisle, but Officer
Lopez has her hand on my arm again. A bunch of senior guys carry Simon’s casket out the door. A couple
dozen people dressed in dark colors file out after them, ending with a man and a woman holding hands.

The woman has a thin, angular face like Simon. "Nate Macauley?" he asks. I shade my eyes against the
sun outside the church, scanning the crowd until I spot Jake. He and the other pallbearers put Simon’s
casket onto some kind of metal stretcher, then step aside as the funeral directors angle it toward the
hearse.

I look down, not wanting to watch Simon’s body get loaded into the back of a car like an oversized
suitcase, and somebody taps me on the shoulder. "Addy Prentiss?" An older woman dressed in a boxy
blue suit gives me a polite, professional smile. " "I’m Detective Laura Wheeler with the Bayview Police. I
want to follow up on the discussion you had last week with Officer Budapest about Simon Kelleher’s
death.

I want to ask why, but she’s so calm and assured, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to pull me
aside after a funeral, that it seems rude to question her. Jake comes up beside me then, handsome in his
suit, and gives Detective Wheeler a friendly, curious smile. And we’re right around the corner." She gives
Jake a half smile. "Detective Laura Wheeler, Bayview Police.

""Sure," he says, like that settles things. " I follow Detective Wheeler down the cobblestone path behind
the church that leads to the sidewalk, even though I don’t want to. It’s three blocks to the police station,
and we walk in silence past a hardware store, the post office, and an ice cream parlor where a little girl
out front is having a meltdown about getting chocolate sprinkles instead of rainbow. I keep thinking I
should tell Detective Wheeler that my mother will worry if I don’t come straight home, but I’m not sure I
could say it without laughing.

We pass through metal detectors in the front of the police station and Detective Wheeler leads me
straight to the back and into a small, overheated room. She offers me a drink, and when I decline she
leaves the room for a few minutes, returning with a messenger bag slung over one shoulder and a small,
dark-haired woman trailing behind her. Both of them sit across from me at the squat metal table, and
Detective Wheeler lowers her bag onto the floor. " "Addy, this is Lorna Shaloub, a family liaison for the
Bayview School District.

I suck in my cheeks, wondering if she’s going to show me the Tumblr posts. If they ask me who, I guess
I’d have to say Bronwyn. Detective Wheeler turns the laptop so it’s facing me. First time this app has
ever featured good-girl BR, possessor of school’s most perfect academic record.

Pretty sure that’s a probation violation there, N. Jake will see it, if he hasn’t already. All the things I read
before I got to my initials, that shocked me as I realized who they were about and what they meant, fall
out of my brain. Jake will know. I’m almost folded in half with my head on the table, and can’t make out
Detective Wheeler’s words at first.

"It was queued up the day Simon died, but he never got the chance to post it," Detective Wheeler says
calmly. Jake hasn’t seen this.

I pick Lucas up after school and stop by Nonny’s hospital room before our parents get there. She’d been
asleep most of the time we visited all week, but today she’s sitting up in bed with the TV remote in
hand. «This television only gets three channels,» she complains as Lucas and I hover in the doorway. «
Lucas, do you have any candy?» «No, ma’am,» Lucas says, flipping his too-long hair out of his eyes.

Nonny turns a hopeful face to me, and I’m struck by how old she looks. Nonny lets out a theatrical sigh.
«Lucas, go downstairs to the gift shop and buy three Snickers bars. » «Yes, ma’am.» Lucas’s eyes gleam
as he calculates his profit.

He’s out the door in a flash, and Nonny settles back against a stack of hospital pillows. «Nobody tells me
anything but I hear things». «You should rest, Nonny.» «Cooper, this was the least dangerous heart
attack in cardiac history. Catch me up on the Simon Kelleher situation. »

«Oh, darlin’. » Nonny shakes her head when I finish. She can’t set her hair here the way she does at
home, and it bobs around like loose cotton. «I could not be sorrier you got pulled into this, Cooper. »
« I didn’t use steroids and I didn’t hurt Simon». «Well, for goodness’ sake, Cooper.» Nonny brushes
impatiently at her hospital blanket. I swallow hard. Somehow, the fact that Nonny accepts my word
without question makes me feel guilty.

« Just because I didn’t hand it all over to your father to buy a McMansion in this overpriced town
doesn’t mean I couldn’t have. » I could mention how Jake is freezing out Addy and all our friends are
joining in, but that’s too depressing. «Not much else to tell, Nonny».

«How’s Keely handling all this?»

«Cooper.» Nonny takes my hand in both of hers. «Keely is a beautiful, sweet girl. » Somebody’s about to
win a new washer/dryer set and they’re pretty happy about it. Nonny doesn’t say anything else, just
keeps holding my hand.

If Nonny notices my good ol’ boy accent coming and going, she doesn’t mention it. «I mean, Cooper
Clay, I’ve been in the room when that girl calls or texts you, and you always look like you’re trying to
escape. I don’t know what’s holding you back, darlin’, but I wish you’d stop letting it. It may not have
been the best idea I ever had to let a twelve-year-old wander the hospital with money burning a hole in
his pocket».

If it ever came out that I’d actually done something to Simon, plenty of people would hate me. I’ve got
ramen noodles on the stove and toss some vegetables into Stan’s cage. «You’re home early,» my father
says. A couple of months ago I came home one night and he was barely breathing, so I called an
ambulance.

He spent a few days in the hospital, where doctors told him his liver was so damaged he could drop
dead at any time. He nodded and acted like he gave a shit, then came home and cracked another bottle
of Seagram’s. «I have things to do.» I dump the noodles into a bowl and head for my room with them.
«That’s ’cause it’s not on the couch,» I mutter, and shut my door behind me.

I scarf down my noodles in five minutes, then settle back onto my pillows and put in my earbuds so I can
call Bronwyn. It’s my turn to pick a movie, thank God, but we’re barely half an hour into Ringu when
Bronwyn decides she’s had enough. ««I’m not watching another goddamn Divergent movie, Bronwyn.» I
wait a beat before adding, «You should come over and watch Ringu with me. » » Bronwyn laughs so
hard she almost chokes.
«Hey, girl. » «At least it’s not an anaconda,» Bronwyn sputters. We agree on the last Bourne movie and
I’m watching it with my eyes half-closed, listening to increasingly frequent texts from Amber chime in
the background. «.

«I’m running out of minutes, though. » Those prepaid phones have hundreds of minutes on them, and
she’s had it less than a week. «Bronwyn, wait. » .

So your minutes don’t run out and I can call you tomorrow about getting you another phone». «« Good
night, Nate». I’m at home with Ashton and we’re trying to figure out something to do. «Come on,
Addy.» I’m lying across an armchair, and Ashton nudges me with her foot from the couch.

And don’t say hang out with Jake,» she adds quickly. » » » I’ve had this awful sickening lurch in my
stomach all week, as though I’d been walking along a sturdy bridge and it vanished under my feet. » » »
» We’d drifted apart in ninth grade when she had zero interest in boys, but the summer before high
school we’d still ridden our bikes all over town together. » » » Ride bikes somewhere». »

» » « I appreciate you keeping me from falling apart all week, but you’ve got a life. « You should get back
to Charlie». » Ashton doesn’t answer right away. » She goes into the kitchen, and I hear the refrigerator
door opening and the faint clink of bottles. »

» » «I caught them when I went home to get more clothes last weekend. » » » » » » » Ashton had been
so happy that day, gorgeous and glowing and giddy. » » » » .

Did he like people being afraid of him? I mean, you were friends with him growing up, right? Was he
always that way? Is that why you stopped hanging out?" "Are you doing Bronwyn’s investigative work
for her now?" Is he sneering at me? "I’m as curious as she is. " We’re having a conversation." But even
as I say it, I try to remember the last time I talked to Jake and didn’t agree one hundred percent with
whatever he said. It’s a nervous habit I’ve developed now that I don’t have hair to wind around my
fingers. I’m not even sure what kind of forgiveness I want anymore.

It’s hard to imagine going back to being Jake’s girlfriend. But it would be nice if he stopped hating me.
"You cheated on me and lied about it, Addy. "I’m not going to make excuses, Jake.
Jake might be getting satisfaction from picking at the scab of our relationship, but I’m not. As soon as it’s
clipped tight I push up the kickstand and I’m pedaling hard down Jake’s driveway. Once my heart finds a
comfortable pounding rhythm, I remember how it almost beat out of my chest when I confessed to
cheating on Jake. I’d never felt so trapped in my life.

My life isn’t mine anymore. I used to dream about my name being a trending search on Google, but for
pitching a nohitter in the World Series. Last Friday at school I got out of my car the same time Addy got
out of her sister’s, the breeze ruffling her short hair. We were both wearing sunglasses, a pointless
attempt at blending in, and gave each other our usual tightlipped, still-can’t-believe-this-is- happening
smile.

We hadn’t gone more than a few steps before we saw Nate stride over to Bronwyn’s car and open the
door, being all exaggeratedly polite about it. He smirked as she got out, and she gave him a look that
made Addy and me exchange glances behind our shades. They ran it in slo-mo with the song "Kids" by
MGMT playing in the background, like we’re some kind of hip high school murder club without a care in
the world. I’d avoided it tonight when I left my house to meet Luis at the gym, but as soon as I arrive a
pretty, dark-haired woman with a face full of makeup hurries toward me.

""I’ll be you, head out of here in your cap and sunglasses. Go home, go out, whatever. His hair’s a lot
darker than mine, and he’s at least a shade tanner. So I hover in the hallway as Luis strides out the front
door in my clothes to the bright lights of cameras.

I put on Luis’s hat and sunglasses, then get into his Honda and fling my gym bag across the seat. She
clutches his arm as they pass Luis’s car without looking my way, and I feel a bone-deep sense of loss. I’m
out of Luis’s car and in the front door so fast, I don’t think anyone could’ve seen me. "What are you
doing here?" "Had to get out of my house." I close the door behind me and take off my hat and
sunglasses, tossing them on an entry table.

I slide my hands into his hair and kiss him back. My mother’s upstairs, trying to have a conversation with
my father. I’m on our couch with my burner phone in hand, wondering what I can text to Bronwyn to
keep her from hating me. She’s a coke addict who ran off to some commune in Oregon and hasn’t talked
to me since.
So when people started asking where my mother was, I lied. The stairs creak as my mother comes down,
brushing her hands on the front of her pants. Her hair’s a lot grayer and shorter, but her face isn’t so
ragged and drawn. ""Nathaniel." My mother sits in the armchair and clasps her hands in front of her. "

My mother nods her head jerkily while cracking her knuckles. "Must be nice. " Nice to see you.
""Nathaniel, please." She stands and tugs at my arm. "

""I’m not with Bronwyn. "We’re murder cosuspects, remember?" I say, and let the door slam behind
me. I should call Bronwyn, see how things went at the police station. She has that expensive lawyer,
along with parents who are like guard dogs between her and people trying to mess with her.

The only vacation I ever went on with my parents was a camping trip here when I was nine years old. My
mother was on good behavior, maybe because she had a thing for those short, twisted trees that were
everywhere. " "The first seven years of the Joshua tree’s life, it’s just a vertical stem.

I tell Eli about Nate’s parents and how he’s practically raised himself since he was in fifth grade. I tell him
every awful, heart-wrenching story Nate’s ever told me, or that I witnessed or guessed. Nate would hate
it, but I’ve never believed anything more strongly than I believe he needs Eli to stay out of jail. Nate
talked to his mother two days ago and she was holding on, but I have no idea what effect today’s news
might have on her.

" "I’ll talk to Nate’s mom. Maeve’s still watching me when I hang up. I snatch the keys to the Volvo from
the kitchen island. "Maeve bites her lip. "

I have four messages from Addy, all some variation of Did you see? and WTF? "Are we telling Mom and
Dad about this?" Maeve asks as I back out of the driveway.

"Do you disapprove?"

Macauley’s still checked in, but she doesn’t answer the phone in her room. Maeve takes over driving
responsibilities on the ride home while I call Addy. Addy’s lawyer doesn’t have a clue what’s happening.
" If things aren’t too out of control," I say gratefully.
Maeve turns into our street, and my heart sinks when I spy the line of white news vans in front of our
house.

We pull into the driveway behind my parents’ cars, and as soon as

I push past them and meet Maeve in front of the car, grabbing her hand as we weave through the
cameras and the flashing lights. I really hope my parents weren’t asked the same question. Maeve and I
slam the door behind us and duck past the windows into our kitchen. Mom is sitting at the island with a
coffee cup between both hands, her face tight with worry.

Dad’s voice rises in heated conversation from behind his closed office door. "Bronwyn, we need to talk,"
Mom says, and Maeve floats away upstairs. I sit across from my mother at the kitchen island and meet
her tired eyes with a pang. "Obviously you saw the news," she says.

So maybe you didn’t think you could confide in us, but I need you to be straight with me now that Nate’s
been arrested. "But then she reaches out and squeezes my hand, and it hits me with a stab of guilt how I
never used to keep things from her until I cheated in chemistry. " Not about bringing Nate to our house
or meeting him at Bayview Estates, because I’m pretty sure that’ll send us down a bad path. My mother
is trying so hard not to freak out.

Macauley.

"My mother massages her temple. "Bronwyn, I’m not sure you understand how cavalier you’ve been.
"Hi, this is Bronwyn." "Bronwyn, hello." The voice is low and strained, but clear. "Ellen Macauley. "

Nate’s mother. I brace myself when a camera lights up as I leave the locker room, waiting for the woman
with the microphone to cycle through the usual half-dozen questions. "Cooper, what do you think about
Nate Macauley’s arrest?" "Huh?" I stop short, too shocked to brush past her, and Luis almost bumps into
me. "Excuse me." "The hell?" Luis mutters once we’re past the camera gauntlet.

We’re giving Luis a ride home, which is good since it cuts down the time Pop and I need to spend alone.
Luis and I drop our bags in the backseat, and I climb into the passenger seat while Luis settles himself
into the back. Pop’s fiddling with the radio, trying to find a news station. "They arrested that Macauley
kid," he says with grim satisfaction.

He hasn’t met my eyes once since I told him about Kris. "Well, you had to figure it was Nate," Luis says
calmly. Throws Nate right under the bus, like he hadn’t been sitting with the guy at lunch all last week. If
I’d had to point a finger at someone when this all started, it would’ve been Nate.

Even though he’d acted genuinely desperate when he was searching for Simon’s EpiPen. I never thanked
him, but I’ve thought a lot about how much worse school would’ve gotten if he’d brushed past me and
let things snowball. My phone’s filled with text messages, but the only ones I care about are a string
from Kris. Other than a quick visit to warn Kris about the police and apologize for the oncoming media
onslaught, I’ve barely seen him in the past couple of weeks.

I text him back while half listening to Pop and Luis talk. After we drop Luis off silence settles between me
and my father, dense as fog. We catch sight of the news vans when we’re halfway down our street.

"What was worth it?"

He pulls around a news van, throws the gearshift into park, and yanks the key out of the ignition. "None
of this is a choice," I say, but the noise outside swallows my words as he opens the door. The reporter
gauntlet is thinner than usual, so I’m guessing most of them are at Bronwyn’s. Nonny’s in the kitchen,
making buttered toast with brown sugar on top.

I pick up a stray quarter and spin it into a silvery blur across the kitchen table. " Well, they surely did get
worse, and now there’s nowhere to go but up." She takes a bite and I keep spinning the quarter until she
swallows. "I try to picture my father making conversation with Kris over chicken casserole. " .

It’s Bronwyn. I got your number from Addy. ""Yeah." I’m not sure what else to say, but Bronwyn doesn’t
give me a chance.