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“I hope you feel better today.”
“Uh, yeah. H-how did you know I wasn’t feeling well yesterday?” Thankfully Mr. Seth takes my confusion for surprise.
“Mr. Savior suggested you were probably ill from lunch. I’d like to make a request that next time you feel unwell, you excuse yourself and go to the nurse’s office.”
I nod my head. “Of course.”
Mr. Seth smiles. “Heading to class?”
“Yeah.” My voice is small, breathless—full of disappointment, missing another chance to search for the coin. The wind pulls at my skin and my hair, as if to drag me away, toward my purpose, but I resist and follow Mr. Seth to Hollingsworth.
I don’t get the chance to tell Shy thank you because he isn’t in class, something that bothers me more than it should. I wonder if he found someone else to go to lunch with—maybe another girl, the one who hugged him around his waist yesterday. Maybe they’d lost track of time.
Stop! I order myself.
I can’t let a few instances of kindness blind me from things that truly bother me—like Shy’s watchful gaze and his perceptive questions. It might seem wrong to be suspicious of him, but some of the greatest threats never set off warning bells.
In contrast, Thane is a walking siren—everything about him screams run the other direction and what makes him dangerous is obvious. I haven’t decided what I’ll do about him yet, but the only option I’ve come up with is fleeing town. I doubt Mom will go for that.
For now, I’m stuck.
Lennon and I make it to the field on time for P.E., so we don’t have to run extra laps. We start off at a jog. I hope the strain on my lungs will distract me from searching for Shy on the practice field.
It doesn’t.
“Looking for Shy?” Lennon asks.
Maybe I should be a little more concerned about her watchful gaze and perceptiveness.
“He asked me to lunch,” I explain. “But he wasn’t in class after.”
“He left with Natalie,” she says.
So I’d been right to think he might have left with another girl—I’d just thought of the wrong one. I don’t want to think about what it means that they haven’t returned, so I turn my thoughts toward a theory I’d been contemplating since this morning.
“Do you think Natalie had anything to do with posting Lily’s texts on Roundtable?”
Lennon laughs, but it sounds a little strangled, as if she choked on the spit in her throat. “No.”
“Why not?” I’m a little offended by how quickly she shoots my suggestion down.
“Because Natalie and Lily are friends.”
“Really?”
“There’s a group of them. They grew up together—Shy, Lily, Natalie, Jacobi, Thane.”
Thane?
“Shy and Thane don’t seem like very good friends.”
“They aren’t—or at least, not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“No one knows. One day, they came to school and they just weren’t friends anymore. Didn’t hang out at lunch, didn’t talk in the hallway, didn’t acknowledge their history together.”
I can’t imagine Shy and Thane ever being very good friends, but now I'm curious— what changed? If I have to guess, it has something to do with the grief Thane carries. Death always inspires change—good or bad.
