She pursed her lips. “We studied his pattern online yesterday and he usually doesn’t show up to the same place twice.”

“Until I taunted him, apparently. I can’t risk it. I have a winning record to maintain. Heath Hall will not ruin that.”

Seven

Dylan Sutter was next on my list. And as I left the science building and headed through the outdoor halls toward the pool, I saw him wrestling with a book at his locker. I stepped up beside him into the shade structure that covered the rows of lockers. “Dylan.”

His book fell to the ground with a slap. He started to retrieve it when he met my eyes with a stunned expression before dropping his gaze to my shoulder.

“I noticed that you follow Heath Hall online. I know he’s not the actual actor who plays him,” I added before he had the chance to inform me of that.

“Yeah.” He went back to trying to fit his book in his too-full locker.

“So who is he?”

“You don’t know?”

Obviously, I wanted to say but instead just said, “No.”

He shook his head back and forth several times, then slammed his locker, his hand barely making it out. He pushed on the door once more as though he thought the books inside were about to shove it back open. Satisfied, he straightened up, then glared at my shoulder. “Can’t tell if you don’t know.”

Holy crap, how did this guy get all these people to keep their mouths shut? This was turning out to be way more work than I had anticipated. “Dylan. Look. I won’t tell anyone. I just need to talk to him.”

“You can’t just talk to him. Well, I mean you can but you can’t.”

What? “What is he, the Godfather? Come on.”

Dylan adjusted his backpack on his shoulder and stumbled a little under the weight of it. “Can’t tell you if you don’t know,” he said again, then nodded his head at the ground and left.

I smacked Dylan’s locker as if it was the one that had refused to spill its secrets and I turned to leave, walking straight into Jackson. “Moore, I should’ve known it was you.”

I took a step back. “What?”

“What did you say to Dylan?”

“What?” Why did I keep saying that?

“Dylan.” He pointed behind him, where I watched Dylan glance over his shoulder once, see us looking, then nearly trip over his own feet before righting himself and continuing forward.

“I said nothing.”

“It didn’t look like nothing.”

“Are you spying on me?” I asked.

“I was walking down the hall. So yes, I guess that means I was spying. I thought maybe I could learn your secret swimming powers for the next time someone strands me on an island in the middle of a lake.”