My heart pounds, my muscles ache, my feet slap at the dirt path. I revel in the sensations, pushing myself harder. Faster. Longer.

Kill Bandit.

Is my soul sufficiently numb yet?

I slow to a jog as I round the corner back to my house. I can do this. I’ll fire a bullet into his chest, just like I researched on the internet, and poof, he’ll disappear from our world, taking with him unimaginable loss and sorrow. All I have to do is not think. Not feel…

My best friend sits on our front porch, her fingers laced loosely over her knees. Her hair is pulled back in a simple ponytail, and she’s holding a blown-glass butterfly, with wings so fine they might as well be gossamer.

I suck in a breath. She’s here. She’s actually here.

“Lalana!” I launch myself at her, wrapping my arms around her back. “How are you?”

I’m almost sobbing, I’m so excited to see my best friend. But her spine is as stiff as a board, and she holds the butterfly as though it were a life preserver. She’s not hugging me back.

I retreat, my hands dropping awkwardly to my sides. “I’ve been so worried,” I say quietly. Part of her hood is tucked into her collar, and I have to fist my hands so I don’t reach out and straighten it.

“Have you really?” She raises her eyebrows. Uh-oh. I know that expression. Lalana has the kindest, most generous heart in the world, but she doesn’t put up with anybody mistreating her. Apparently, even me.

“Of course,” I say helplessly. “You’re my best friend.”

She strokes a finger over a butterfly wing, not looking at me. “The school suspended me for a week. Since this is my first offense, the lawyer recommended we enter a guilty plea for possession and pay the fine. Not a big deal, in the larger scheme of things. But that’s not all.” Her fingers tighten on the butterfly. “As you can probably guess, my parents are shipping me out to California. They’ve had enough of my wild behavior, and they’re putting an end to it, diaw nee. I’ll finish high school out there.”

“I’m sorry. I…” The words fade, as though they know how hypocritical they are. “When do you leave?”

“It hardly matters, does it, when this will be the last time you see me.” Finally, she looks up. At last, those dark-brown eyes drill into mine. “I know the marijuana was yours, Alice.”

My heart stops. “What… What are you talking about?”

“I thought you might be using drugs. You were acting so weird. Waltzing up to Bandit and telling him you loved him?” She shakes her head. “I can’t believe I thought you were covering for me. Wow, was I deluded.”