“What did your mom say?” Katie asks.

I grab my pendant and twist the chain around my index finger. “I didn’t tell her.”

“Tell me you at least called the police!”

“Keep your voice down,” I say through clenched teeth, certain that by the end of lunch, everyone behind us will have their own interpretation of what we’re talking about. It’s the side effect of attending a pretentious private school, where people treat Everybody’s Business like it’s a class they can ace and add to their transcripts.

I’m glad I didn’t mention the Escalade. The articles. The warning etched in the dust on my grill. “I figured out another lead. I just need to check into it before I . . .”

“You realize it was a threat.” Adam stares at me with a seriousness I’ve never seen on him before.

“Sure, but . . .”

“Lia.” His voice is low and severe. Adam, my overly sarcastic, in-your-face friend, adapts an Armageddon-type air of gravity I didn’t know he was capable of. “I wasn’t planning on giving you this lecture today, but clearly time is of the essence. Whatever you found, whatever you’re onto, drop it. At least let things settle down.”

It was stupid of me to bring this up here, today, with every gossip mongrel in this cafeteria dying for a scene so they have more to say about the spastic girl and her freaky near-death experience. I throw my bag over my shoulder. “You sound like Maggie Finch,” I say, ready to ditch as the entire cafeteria behind us hushes.

Adam and Katie look up.

“What’s happening?” I whisper, my face flushing.

“I don’t know about you, but today’s been exhausting.” Cullen Henking sits beside me, facing the cafeteria. He props his elbows behind him on our table and leans back. “All everyone wants to talk about is what happened between us this past weekend.”

Cullen grabs a chip from the bag in my hands. He flashes a fake, polished smile and pops the chip into his mouth. “But there’s beauty in that.” He brushes his hands together, wiping away the salty residue.

I feel blotches crawl up my neck and face as I ineptly search for something to say, assuring he will never ever smile at me that way again.

Cullen swings a leg over to straddle the bench. He moves closer, brushing a chunk of knotted hair behind my shoulder with his finger.

This is my chance to humiliate him in front of everyone at this school. Or at least put him in his place. But my lips won’t move and my thoughts are traffic jammed inside my head in a horn-blaring, road-raging mess.