“So, I’ve been going around accusing people, basically at random, of the very thing the internet is accusing me of, and you’ve been out there tracking down test results and reporting threats against me to the FBI. Mom, that is badass.”

My timing is bad. My mother chokes on the sip she’s just taken. But then she smiles.

“Thanks. I guess.” She coughs again, then she takes another drink. “You need to get some sleep, hon.”

“I know.” I slide off my bar stool as she grabs the empty antacid packet to throw it away. “Tell Landry you liked the zucchini noodles. Use words like ‘al dente’ and ‘filling.’ ”

“You want me to lie to her?”

“It’s not a lie. The words are true; you just didn’t experience them. So just think of yourself as a speaker broadcasting words that I recorded.”

My mother frowns as I walk backward out of the kitchen. “I’m a little worried about your definition of a lie, Beckett.”

Chapter Eleven

ELEVEN

“Hey.”

My brother’s foot appears in the bathroom, pushing the door open slowly. He’s dressed and ready, though he doesn’t have to leave for school for another twenty minutes, even if he’s dropping Landry off first.

“Hey. I’ll be out in a sec.”

I lean toward the mirror again and apply a second coat of mascara. The tube is practically empty, and I have neither the time nor the money for a run to the store. But I saw a video on Instagram the other day—back before I had to disable comments on all my posts—promising to show me how to make use of every bit of mascara from a tube I’d assumed was empty. Maybe I can find that video again without uncovering too many more death threats.

“I don’t need the bathroom.” He digs his phone from his pocket. “I just wanted to say, after last night—”

“Penn, I’m sorry. I had no right—”

“Just let me finish. You did enough talking yesterday.”

“Okay.” I shove the wand back into my mascara tube and twist it closed. “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“You’re a hypocrite.”

I blink at him in the mirror. That’s not the opening line I was expecting.

“All these people online—and in school—are saying Lullaby Doe is yours, just because you found the body. It isn’t right for you to jump to the same conclusion about me.”

“I know. I’m—”

“You’re doing the same thing to me that they’re doing to you.”

“I’m sorry! Okay?” I spin away from the mirror to face him. “You’re right. I’m an asshole.”