“It’s not a lie,” I say. I’m already leaving, so I might as well go out with a bang. “I actually do have HIV. And Miles didn’t tell anyone. I know who did.”

Mrs. Austin blinks at me multiple times. Miles stares at her, almost as if he’s willing her to look at him, but I don’t think he knows what to say. She looks like I’ve told her I’m a baby snatcher. At least she doesn’t know what we did in her kitchen. I can picture her tying Miles up in his bedroom to keep him away, like Penny’s mom in Hairspray.

“Simone,” Principal Decker says. “You’re saying you know who posted this message?”

“I mean, I have an idea.” I rub my hands together. “There’s this guy that knew about my HIV, and he kept threatening to tell unless I—unless Miles and I stopped hanging out. He said I wasn’t safe.”

“Wait,” Mr. Austin says, holding up a hand. “You’re HIV positive, and you’ve been seeing my son? Miles, how irresponsible could you be?”

He could’ve smacked me and it would have hurt less.

“Excuse me?” Dad shoots to his feet, the fury in his voice barely contained. “Listen, pal. Why don’t you go and—”

“Dr. Garcia, Mr. Austin,” Principal Decker snaps. “I will not tolerate this type of behavior in my office. But to calm your mind, Mr. Austin, I’ll have you know that there isn’t any way for Simone to transfer the virus to students—”

“What if she bleeds?” Mrs. Austin interrupts. “And kids fall. They hurt themselves. She could give it to anyone.”

“I don’t run around smearing my blood on anyone,” I say, trying to keep my voice firm. “And if I have a cut, I’m the one who takes care of it. In case you didn’t know, soap inactivates the virus.”

“What about sex?” Mr. Austin says, looking over at Dad. “They’re teenagers after all.”

“We’re not here to discuss our daughter’s sex life,” Pops snaps. “We’re here to see if your son is the one who spread this extremely personal information on the internet.”

“Pops, he didn’t—”

“Why would I do that?” Miles asks. It’s weird to hear how much he sounds like his dad, especially as his voice gets louder. “I don’t—I care about her.”

I bite my lip. I can’t let Miles get yelled at for something he didn’t do, especially since I’m the only one here who knows the full story.

“It wasn’t him,” I say again, hoping my voice is loud enough. “It was this kid from drama, Jesse Harris. He told me that he saw me at the hospital, and he’s been leaving threatening notes in my locker for weeks now.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Dad asks. “Simone, why—”