Well, not unless I asked for it.

‘Hey,’ I said. ‘I need to talk to Bryce for a second. Do you guys mind?’

The girl on the end of the bed looked taken aback. ‘So talk to him. We’re not stopping you.’

I looked her right in the eye and said, in my firmest mediation voice, ‘I need to talk to him alone.’

Somebody whistled low and long. Nobody else moved. At least until Bryce went, ‘Hey you guys. You heard her. Get out.’

Thank God for morphine, that’s all I have to say.

Grudgingly, the senior class filed out, everybody casting me dirty looks but Bryce, who lifted a hand connected to what looked like an IV and went, ‘Hey Suze. C’mere and look at this.’

I approached the bed. Now that we were the only people in it, I was able to see that Bryce actually had a very large room. It was also very cheerful, painted yellow, with a window that looked out over the garden outside.

See what I got?’ Bryce showed me a palm-sized instrument with a button on top of it. ‘My own painkiller pump. Anytime I feel pain, I just hit this button, and it releases codeine. Right into my bloodstream. Cool, huh?’

The guy was gone. That was obvious. Suddenly, I didn’t think my mission was going to be so hard, after all.

‘That’s great, Bryce,’ I said. ‘I was real sorry to hear about your accident.’

‘Yeah.’ He giggled fatuously. ‘Too bad you weren’t there. You might’ve been able to save me like you did yesterday.’

‘Yes,’ I said, clearing my throat uncomfortably. ‘You certainly do seem accident-prone these days.’

‘Yeah.’ His eyelids drifted closed, and for one panicky minute, I thought he’d gone to sleep. Then he opened his eyes and looked at me kind of sadly. ‘Suze, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it.’

I stared at him. God, what a baby! ‘Of course you’re going to make it. You’ve got a busted collarbone, is all. You’ll be better in no time.’

He giggled. ‘No, no. I mean, I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it to our date on Saturday night.’

‘Oh,’ I said, blinking. ‘Oh, no, of course not. I didn’t think so. Listen, Bryce, I need to ask you a favour. You’re going to think it’s weird—’ Actually, doped up as he was, I doubted he’d think it weird at all. ‘—but I was wondering whether, back when you and Heather were going out, did she ever, um, give you anything?’

He blinked at me groggily ‘Give me anything? You mean like a present?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, yeah. She got me a cashmere sweater vest for Christmas.’

I nodded. A cashmere sweater vest wasn’t going to do me any good. ‘OK. Anything else? Maybe . . . a picture of herself?’

‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Sure, sure. She gave me her school picture.’

‘She did?’ I tried not to look too excited. ‘Any chance you’ve got it on you? In your wallet, maybe?’ It was a gamble, I knew, but most people only clean out their wallets once a year or so . . .