And that’s how I know the comment is real, the one that flashes up and is quickly pushed off the page, forcing me to chase it, scrolling down until I can be sure of what it said, until I know for certain that the Magpie Man is watching.

Most of the comments are threats or jokes or rants, but this one’s a fact. Two words. One warning.

Wrong perfume.

Chapter 76

It turns out Mr. Humphries hasn’t been suspended, because the next day, everyone who went on the trip has to meet in an empty classroom, and he’s there with Mrs. Bradley.

I’m relieved, because he didn’t do anything wrong. We did. We had the party. Maya bought the alcohol. And Bernie grabbed a whole bottle before she left. Mr. Humphries had nothing to do with it.

I should be in English this morning, but Mr. Collins is away at an educator conference.

“What happened last week is regretful, and we should all be thankful that Bernadette is okay,” Mrs. Bradley says.

You can hear the collective sigh of relief, and a few of us start mumbling until the principal says, “That’s not to say it is the end of the matter. Who brought the alcohol to Mayfield Lodge?”

We all keep our eyes focused straight ahead, staring at something that won’t stare back. But I can still feel both teachers’ eyes burning into my face, my back hot and sticky, the collective guilt of the room weighing heavily on us all.

One person in here is guiltier than most. I just need to figure out who that is.

There are only twelve people in our theology class, and with Bernie gone, that leaves me to watch the four boys, Eloise, Pav, Ali, Jennifer, and Maya.

“We will be conducting a thorough investigation,” Mrs. Bradley says. “This is not acceptable behavior. You brought the school into disrepute and put a student’s life at risk.”

We sit in silence, desperate for this to be over.

“I expect to know the full details of that night by the end of today,” she says, turning to Mr. Humphries, who steps forward and clears his throat.

I’ve never seen him nervous before, but he can hardly get his words out.

“If anyone needs to talk, the school counselor will be in all week,” he says, “and my door is always open.” He pauses for a moment, then catches the principal’s eye and says, “Needless to say, I feel let down by all of you.”

I don’t think it’s a coincidence that this is happening today, twenty-four hours after we came back to school, a day when they don’t have a camera in their faces. Mrs. Bradley doesn’t want this conversation online.