He shrugged, his nonchalance exaggerated. “Hey—how’s Solomon doing? Haven’t seen him in school today.”

His face gave nothing away, but still, my blood chilled at the sound of my best friend’s name in Sheffield’s mouth. No good could come of this. “How is he? He’s fucking fantastic,” I said, anger getting the better of me. If this pink-faced little asshole was behind these random acts of cruelty, he needed to know to stay the hell away from Solomon. “I mean, you know how it is. Right? Such a gentle giant. When he gets angry, though? Guy could break your forearm like snapping a twig.”

“Really,” Sheffield said, nodding vigorously. “What a useful thing to know. See you around, Ash?”

“Not if I see you first,” I said.

To Jewel, he doffed his blue baseball cap and bowed. She kept ignoring him. The tiniest of frowns flickered on Sheffield’s face, and then he walked off.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

I was a total idiot.

Everyone already thought Solomon was a lunatic. The last thing they needed was to think he was violent, too. And that was exactly the seed I’d just planted in Criminal-Supervillain-in-Training Sheffield’s head.

All day long, I couldn’t stop thinking about Solomon.

So, after school, I went to Cass’s house. The door was unlocked, like it always was. She was on the couch, in her chaotic living room.

“Ash,” she said, sitting up, and I could see at once that she’d been crying.

That’s when I realized: I knew nothing about her life. Did she have kids? Were her parents alive? Did she have an intense long-distance letters-only love affair with someone? Had her heart just been broken? Was someone she loved very sick? More importantly, why hadn’t I ever asked?

“Hey, Cass,” I said, and stooped to hug her. She held on very tight.

“Excuse me,” she said, making an elegant gesture in the direction of her face. “Moment of weakness. Never happens.”

“Of course not,” I said, and went to make us tea. By the time it was ready, and I brought it in on an ancient mirrored platter, she’d managed to pull herself together somewhat.

“So. What brings you here? To consult the Oracle?”

So many things I could have said. I think that some guys in my school might be involved in hate crimes, and I’m worried someone will get hurt.

Or, I think I need to call Child Protective Services and tell them my best friend’s location. Because if I don’t, I’m afraid something worse will happen to him.

“M-my project,” I said instead. “There’s things I want to talk about—stories I want to capture—but I don’t know how to do it.”