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“What privacy problem?” asks Alex.

I wince, wishing she hadn’t brought it up. “My parents have been checking my phone.”

Alex looks at everyone. “Isn’t that normal, though? My mother is always checking my phone.”

My shoulders relax. I’m pretty sure it’s the first time since I arrived at Penhallow that someone’s got parents as strict as my own.

“No, it’s not normal!” Kappy cries. “It’s a violation of privacy. You’re both legally adults, so what are we gonna do? I could send notes by carrier pigeon.”

I laugh. “Odds are they’d check those even more closely.”

“I’ll send them in invisible ink,” she offers.

“Where are you going to get invisible ink?” asks Lauren.

Kappy laughs. “I can’t believe you’re more worried about where I’d acquire invisible ink than you are where I’d acquire a carrier pigeon. Invisible ink is easy. You just soak a highlighter in water for a few days. The color bleeds out and then you can only see it under a bright light.”

“I think maybe we’re going to have to settle for sending texts my parents will think are appropriate.”

“I refuse to be appropriate, ever,” Kappy says. “Your parents can suck a bag of dicks.”

The conversation moves on to other things while Kappy searches her phone. I hope she’s not buying a carrier pigeon.

On the way out, when it’s just the two of us, she holds out her hand. “Give me your phone.”

I hand it to her reluctantly. “My father has already inspected my cell once,” I whisper. “He’s going to know if you put some new app on there.”

She laughs. “I bet he won’t be bothered by this.”

In two seconds, she’s downloaded a study app called Calcul8. She types a few things in a field and then hands it back to me. “Open it using your PIN code.”

I do as I’m told. Inside the app there are several fields—English, Calculus, Physics, Journalism, Spanish, Upcoming Tests, and Calculator.

“Now go back and put in 0612. It’s my birthday, so you’ll never forget it.”

I laugh, put in the new PIN code and...an entirely different messaging app appears. She is the only contact. “You can add other people,” she says. “Anyone with the app can message through it. But if your dad inspects your phone, he’ll just see a school study thing.”

“This feels...very wrong,” I whisper.

“You’re a teenager,” she says, throwing out her hands. “You’re supposed to make mistakes.”

I’m not sure my church thinks that time is ever supposed to come.

I like Kappy’s attitude better. And if I was ever going to make a mistake or two...this is the place to do it.

It’s quiet in the halls when I finally head to my locker to go home on Thursday, and a chill climbs up the back of my arms. I hate that what Mac did has me nervous to walk through a hall that isn’t occupied. Odds are, if I’m actually the reason he got beaten up that weekend, no one would dare do it again, but the fear doesn’t leave me as I head to my locker.

I open my backpack and drop it at my feet, looking over my shoulder at the sound of footsteps. It’s just Cora, who seems to exist on the periphery of the Kendalls. To my surprise, she leans against the locker next to mine.

“Hey,” she says. “How’s it going? You’re in my chemistry class, right?”

I glance at her. We aren’t friends. She’s never been cruel to me—she wasn’t one of the girls who threw change that day, and she wasn’t around any of the times my locker got trashed. But I’m not sure what she’s doing here either.

“Um, I’m not taking chemistry,” I reply.

“Oh, you’re one of those smarty-pants physics girls, aren’t you?” She gets a text, glances at her phone. “Hey, you must have taken chemistry, then, right? Can I get you to take a look at this problem?”

People have been so much friendlier to me since I showed up at the party. Maybe it removed the cloud of weird headmaster’s daughter I had hanging over my head.