Noelle seemed like she was preparing for battle.

While Evelyn and Jasper tried to get through to her, I focused not on what was going on with her but the why. Or rather, the who. By now I had a pretty good idea of who The Watcher was.

I had suspected it from the beginning, but the recent updates on The Chitter Chatter had affirmed my little theory.

On Friday, I decided to finally do something about it; before class, I grabbed Amelia by the sleeve and tugged her into one of the quieter alcoves.

“What do you want, Seth?” she sighed, sending a pointed glance at the watch on her wrist. “Class begins in less than ten minutes.”

Tightening my grip on her sleeve, I said, “It’s you, isn’t it?”

“Seth, I do not have time for this right now. What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb when we both know you aren’t,” I said, narrowing my eyes at her. “You’re The Watcher. Am I right?”

“I . . . what?”

“You heard me.” I took a step closer; she took a step back but didn’t get far with the wall at her back. “You’re the person who writes The Chitter Chatter. It makes sense because it started a year after you arrived here. And being on the student council and the cheerleading team, you find out a lot about other people around here.”

Amelia shook her head, but the flicker of fear in her steel-gray eyes betrayed her. “That is ridiculous, I would never—”

“You fancy Evelyn, right?” I cut her off. “That’s why you were crying the other day. She told me that before we found you, she was speaking to her parents about Noelle on the phone. You heard her. And that’s also why she’s been climbing in the Hottest Students ranking.”

By now, all the color had drained from her face. “Seth, I—”

I ignored her interjection and continued. “Then you put me higher because I was there to comfort you as well. Jasper is just there because you know everyone finds him attractive. Same with Noelle. Or maybe you fancied her as well at some point?

Doesn’t matter. Then last week you saw Evelyn and Noelle in the locker room at Westbridge. I still have no idea where the hell you got it from, but you were hurt, so you wanted to get back at Noelle by releasing that information about her mom. Am I right?”

Amelia only gaped at me, eyes bulging as she struggled to find words. I had been fishing with my dad once when I was thirteen; she reminded me of the trout we had caught, fresh out of the water, thrashing around on the land. Then, I had felt so much pity I had begged my dad to throw the fish back into the lake in tears. Looking at Amelia, all I felt was a grim sense of satisfaction.

“I do not—I am not like that,” she finally managed to stutter, clutching her books tighter to her chest. “I do not fancy Evelyn.”