“You can’t rule people out because you suddenly like them,” Hanna says. She still hasn’t forgiven us for making new friends. She stares at her hands, then mumbles, “I wish I’d been there.” And there it is, the real reason she’s angry.

Emily laughs and pulls her into a hug. “We wish you’d been there too.”

But if one of my theology classmates is doing this, what happened at Mayfield is a lie.

We’re not friends. I’m part of some sick game, and they’re happy to make me suffer.

Chapter 78

Ten classmates, ten lockers. The challenge is to break into all of them.

Except it might not be much of a challenge, because when we were given our locker combinations, they weren’t impossible-to-remember sequences. They were our birthdays, just the month and the day. We could have changed them if we’d wanted to, but most of us didn’t bother.

Half an hour on Facebook gives me everything I need, and when school ends, I wait in the computer lab, watching the lazy teachers leave early and the good ones stay until it’s dark.

Twice, the custodian tries to kick me out, and twice, I say something about last-minute studying. And now I’m standing by Jennifer’s locker, setting the code to 1217, and feeling it click open.

Whoever is leaving the articles must be keeping them somewhere, so why not here?

Jennifer’s locker is full of crap, old books the librarian has probably forgotten about, and gym clothes at least three years old, but no newspaper clippings.

I hear a noise behind me and freeze. A door slams down the hallway, someone shouts a goodbye, then silence.

It’s weird being in an empty school. The hallways are usually jammed, the volume on maximum, but tonight, it feels like a cemetery.

I don’t want to be here longer than I have to, so I move to Pav’s locker, check my phone for her birthday, and then search.

Yinka’s stinks of muddy soccer cleats, Maya’s is covered in family photos, but one after another, I see nothing but normal.

Before I go, I look at the graduates’ display, the faces of last year’s seniors staring back at me. They are scattered across the country now.

I’ve walked past this display lots of times, but tonight, in the quiet, their smiles look sinister, as if they know something I don’t.

Footsteps echo down the hallway, and I hold my breath. They’re louder than before. They aren’t going home. They’re coming toward me.

I push my back against the lockers, but there’s nowhere to hide. I move one step forward, then another, desperate not to make a sound. Being caught here after dark isn’t something I want to explain. But they’re faster than I am. They are racing around the corner while I shuffle.