“So?” Then: “Wait, are you saying people think I had something to do with it?”

Brandon nodded. “We’ve all known Troy for years. He’s a lot of things. But he’s not a drug cheat.”

“So, what, they think I spiked his urine or something?”

Brandon stopped and looked at me. “Did you?”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“Did you?”

“Of course not. Seriously, even if I wanted to, how would I?”

Brandon shrugged. “You have access to the school.”

“What are you talking about?”

“People know you’re friends with the janitor’s weird kid.”

He meant Spoon. I was about to defend Spoon, to snap back that Spoon wasn’t weird, but then I remembered something: Spoon was weird. Wonderfully so. But he was weird.

“He’s got keys, right? He could sneak you into places.”

“To alter drug tests?” I said. “That’s insane.”

“Is it? Heck, you guys were in here with drug dealers last week. The janitor’s kid got shot, right?”

“Right, but—”

“There’s been a lot of crazy stuff happening in this town since you moved in,” Brandon said, “and somehow, Mickey, you seem to always be in the middle of it.”

We were in a dark corridor now. I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of this.

“Where are we going, Brandon?”

“Almost there.”

When we reached the end of the corridor, I heard a familiar voice say, “Hello, Mickey. Thanks for coming.”

I turned.

It was Troy.

CHAPTER 12

I took two steps back and debated how to play this.

I could make a run for it. I could stand and fight. I wasn’t afraid. I was pretty good with my fists, but then again it was two against one, at the very least. There might be more of them somewhere nearby. I could also go after one, make a quick strike, and sprint down the corridor.

But neither Troy nor Brandon moved toward me. They just stood there, both looking at each other nervously, then back at me.

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“We need to talk,” Brandon said. “That’s all. Just talk.”

“Are you going to start up again with that nonsense about me setting up Troy?”

It was Troy who replied. “No. I didn’t believe it for a second.”

I looked at him. For the first time since we’d met, Troy Taylor wasn’t looking at me with naked hostility. He wasn’t telling me I was a dead man. He wasn’t mooing at Ema. He looked like a real, live human being.

“I need your help, Mickey.”

“Me?”

Brandon stepped forward. “All that stuff I said before. About how you could break into the school. About all that stuff you’ve been involved with.”

“What about it?”

Troy and Brandon exchanged another look. “You’re good at stuff like that.”

“What are you talking about?”