Noah joined her, concern etching his features. “I was hoping to run into you. I heard about what happened yesterday. I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks. Me too.”

“How are you doing?”

“Hanging in—but I’m pretty sore.”

“I’ll bet. Did they give you any pain medication?”

She made a face. “Yeah, but it makes me feel sick. I’d rather put up with the aches.” Kayla appeared down the hall, moving her direction, and Cate waved at her.

Noah looked over his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Why don’t you stop by my office sometime today? It often helps to talk about traumatic experiences. They can leave a lasting mark if they’re not worked through.”

Cate hesitated. Chatting with the guidance counselor wasn’t high on her agenda today—but he was on her suspect list. She ought to take advantage of every opportunity to interact with the man.

“I have to go over my notes before trig class, but I can stop in for a few minutes after the assembly.”

“That works. I’ll see you later this afternoon.” He touched her arm and continued down the hall.

Kayla joined her, frowning at Noah’s back. “What did he want?”

“He asked how I was doing and offered to talk with me later.”

“You going?”

“For a few minutes.”

“Be careful.”

“You keep saying that, but I don’t get why.”

Kayla chewed on her lower lip, then picked up the slimmed-down backpack and motioned toward an empty classroom. “Let’s go in there for a minute.”

“I can take that.” Cate reached for her bag.

Kayla swung it away. “I’ve got it. I saw your ribs last night while you were putting on your sleep shirt, and that bruise is nasty.”

Yeah, it was. Even breathing hurt.

Cate gave up the fight. “Thanks.”

She followed the girl into the classroom, and Kayla closed the door, leaving it open a crack. “Look—I don’t want to get into trouble, okay? This has to stay between you and me.”

Not a promise she could make.

But protecting the identity of sources was important, and she could do that by sharing information only with trusted colleagues.

“I don’t snitch on my friends. Did you break a rule?”

“No. But my last roommate did, with Mr. Evans’s assistance.”

“Why didn’t you tell someone?”

Kayla barked out a humorless laugh. “Get real. In a my-word-against-his battle, who do you think would’ve won?”

Sad to say, she had a valid point.

A surge of adrenaline quickened her pulse—as it always did whenever she sensed a breakthrough was near—but Cate maintained a relaxed stance. “What did he do?”

Kayla peeked through the crack in the door, closed it another inch, and lowered her voice. “He gave her weed.”

Cate stared at her.

The guidance counselor was a drug dealer?

This was surreal.