There were only two sets of twins that I knew: the Tomassini sisters, who had diverged to opposite poles. Bronwyn had buzz-cut hair, tattoos, and so many piercings it looked like she’d been attacked by a BeDazzler. Her sister, Beth, had a perpetual perm, liked unicorns, and wore a charm bracelet that looked like the custodian’s keychain. Then there were the Hudson brothers, who looked exactly alike, except that Ethan was a nice guy and Mark was a dickwad. You could only tell them apart when they opened their mouths: if every third word was an f-bomb, then you knew it was Mark.

The secretary knew without even looking at her computer that those were the only identical twins at our school.

“How about graduates?” I asked. “Or ones who dropped out?”

“Honey,” she said, “they don’t pay me enough to dig that deep, and even if they did, I don’t have access to the archives.”

Fail. I expected as much.

I hadn’t seen much of Leo or Angela since Sunday night. I didn’t avoid them intentionally, but it wasn’t entirely unintentional either. I saw Leo at practice, and I had a few classes with him, but neither of us engaged. There was a distance that hadn’t been there before. Like we were in the same classroom, but at completely different schools.

On Thursday, Angela came over to sit with me during lunch. Until then, I had chosen to sit alone—something I never did, but things change.

“My brother wants me to tell you that your penance is served, and you’re out of the doghouse,” Angela said.

“How about you?” I asked.

“You were never in the doghouse with me,” she said, then thought about it and said, “Can I rephrase that?”

I gave her an obligatory laugh that felt more awkward than helpful.

“Anyway,” said Angela, “that’s not what I really came over to talk about. I hear you’ve been talking to Katie.”

I sighed. Why is it that everyone always knows everyone else’s business in this town? “Yeah, I’m worried about her,” I told Angela.

“So am I. She says everything’s fine, but I have a hard time believing it. Layton is . . . controlling.”

“That’s a nice way of putting it.”

“What has Katie told you?”

I shook my head. “Nothing but to mind my own business.”

Angela dropped her shoulders, disappointed. “She’s in love with him, and she’s scared of him. That’s a bad combination.”

“I don’t think he’s hurting her. Physically, I mean.”

“Not yet, anyway. But there are other ways to bruise a person, you know?”

And that made me think about the way Layton looked at Katie. It was the way he might look at a treasured painting that he felt was just a little crooked on the wall, so he was constantly, endlessly adjusting it.