The shadows were starting to touch his bedroom. He’d obviously been asleep all day and everyone had left him be. He redressed, pulling off his sweat-soaked clothes and changing into a fresh, clean set. He went out the back door, grabbed his bike and rode over to Olivia’s house. Was it still Olivia’s house, or was it Principal Holmes’s now?

It was gloomy, but Principal Holmes had the lounge light on and Wren could see the man hunched over on a couch. In one hand he held a framed photo; in his other, a glass of wine. Wren put his bike down. The least he could do was offer a shoulder to lean on. He owed her that. Wren rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened and before him stood not the strong, commanding Principal Holmes, but a man broken with grief. His shoulders hitched for a moment before he got himself together. ‘Wren,’ he said flatly.

‘Principal Holmes.’

‘What are you doing out so late?’ Principal Holmes asked.

‘Not sure. I just ended up here. Can I come in?’

Olivia’s dad seemed to think about it for a moment. ‘Yes.’ He opened the door wider and stood to the side.

He walked into the lounge. A bottle of red wine and the half-filled glass sat on the table, the framed photo of Olivia close by. Wren was staring at it when Principal Holmes walked back into the room.

‘Beautiful, isn’t she?’

‘Yes, sir, she is.’

‘I keep wandering into her bedroom to check, to make sure that this hasn’t been some huge mix-up; that she’ll be sitting on her bed, legs tucked up under her, watching a movie on her laptop. You know how she loved a good movie. Horror was her favorite.’ Wren knew this but nodded, the man needed to talk, and he would listen. He owed him that.

‘I’m so sorry, Principal Holmes.’

‘We’re bonded in a way we never were before. We’re bonded in grief. In our shared love of Olivia. And I know she loved you.’

Wren looked down, then put a finger in his mouth, chewing on a nail. He looked up slowly, sure that Principal Holmes would see the guilt on his face, the blood on his hands, but he was staring at the photo.

‘I don’t understand why,’ he said, his eyes wet. The man struggled not to cry. ‘We moved here for a fresh start for her. She was happy here. Yes, she had been different for the past week or so. She was upset, but she wouldn’t tell me why. Do you know anything about it?’ he asked.

‘No, I don’t,’ Wren said, swallowing the lie.

‘Well, did you have a fight? She didn’t talk about you like she normally would. Did you break up?’