Prologue
Twenty-two years ago
“I mean, look at him.” Molly tipped her head toward the other side of Principal Evers’s office, where Karl Dean was mutter-shouting an obscenity-filled rant to his tired-looking father. “He’s not slick enough to try cheating. He can’t even whisper at a normal volume.”
Her dad pressed his lips together, a telltale sign of his amusement, while her mother kicked Molly under the table.
An hour earlier, Karl, Molly, and a whiny blond kid named Ned had been handed referrals by their chemistry teacher and sent to the principal’s office. Ned, for cribbing answers from Karl’s test. Karl, for theoretically cooperating with said cribbing.
Her, for insubordination.
She’d seen no evidence that Karl had noticed Ned’s cheating efforts, much less encouraged them. When she’d informed their teacher of that fact, then protested the unfairness of Karl’s referral, she’d promptly received her own.
By all rights, the four letters spelling out Mr. Miller’s genetic code shouldn’t be A, C, G, and T. They should be D-I-C-K.
He didn’t like anyone, but he especially detested Karl. Maybe because the teacher prized neatness, precision, and absolute obedience above all else in the classroom, and Karl’s very being—hisrefusal to participate, his inattention to homework, and his oversized personality and physical presence—offended Mr. Miller. Or maybe he was just pissed that Karl could answer every single question correctly in class, no matter how hard the teacher tried to catch his student off guard.
Either way, when he’d noticed Ned cheating off of Karl’s test, he hadn’t been inclined to give Karl the benefit of the doubt. Even after Molly’s ill-fated intervention.
Since Principal Evers had asked the three students for their side of the story instead of simply echoing Mr. Miller’s accusations, she was hoping he’d prove more impartial. Ned had already offered his unconvincing tale of innocence and woe. Now it was Molly’s turn.
The principal—impeccably suited, as always—raised a single brow at her. “Go on.”
She met his eyes. “You’ve talked to Karl before. You know him.”
He inclined his head in acknowledgment.
Karl had been sent to the office at least four separate times before today. She’d counted.
It wasn’t that she truly cared about him or his disciplinary woes. She’d moved to Maryland and enrolled in Harlot’s Bay High School only a week before the start of the school year, so she didn’t much care aboutanyonehere. She probably never would, since her mom and dad would transfer to new defense contractor jobs and another new town soon enough.
Still, she enjoyed studying him.
Because he was a sophomore too and they’d been assigned essentially the same classes, they sat next to each other anytime the teacher seated students in alphabetical order. But even if they’d freely chosen their seats, she couldn’t have missed him.
His scruff sprang thick and lush from a pugnacious jaw andwas the color of a penny, several shades brighter than the reddish brown of his hair. With that beard and his sturdy frame, he kind of looked like he could be everyone else’s uncle, especially when he scowled. Which he did continually, at least when he wasn’t glowering or glaring or frowning in a vaguely homicidal manner.
So he stood out that way. Also, she’d never met another human being so laughably bad at whispering or so attached to the wordfuckin all its useful forms.
Molly had already spent a significant amount of time memorizing his mannerisms and intonations and the jut of his chin, then practicing them in private and learning to mimic them, as she did whenever she encountered someone especially expressive or memorable. In all her scrutiny, she hadn’t yet caught Karl out in a lie. He didn’t seem to be an actual dick either. Just cranky and fond of obscenities. So she’d stood up for him in class that day, even though Karl had immediately told her to sit down, keep her mouth shut, and stay out of trouble.
She hadn’t listened.
“Stubborn as a mule,” her mom called her. “Committed,” her dad always countered.
Molly continued, “As far as I can tell, Karl has one real friend.”
“Matthew Vine.” The principal sounded sure of that.
“Exactly.” She raised a finger in emphasis. “Why would Karl risk punishment for Ned, who isn’t even his friend? And why would Ned choose to ally himself with someone entirely incapable of subtlety and discretion?”
As if to punctuate her statement, Karl chose that moment to fling his substantial arms in the air and mutter-shout to his father in outrage, “I didn’tdoanything! Why should I fuckingapologize?”
Everyone else in the room swiveled to face him, and PrincipalEvers raisedbothbrows and waited. Karl’s flush reappeared, creeping over his cheeks and up to his ear tips.
“Sorry.” The apology was brusque, but it sounded sincere. “I’ll... sorry.”
To draw the principal’s attention away from her hapless classmate, Molly drummed her fingernails on the wooden table. When Evers turned her way, she made her final statement.
