“Hey, can we talk?” I corral her by the water station, which puts me uncomfortably close to Gabriel, a few feet away. Well, let him listen in, I guess. I have questions for him, too.

“What is it?” Morgan sniffs. She grabs a tissue from her purse and dabs at her nose.

“That night at the game. You left out the part where after you trashed Natalie’s dress, you left the locker room.”

“What?”

“There’s video,” I say, leaving out there was no sound. Playing a bluff. “Earlier that night, after Natalie’s argument with her dad, I saw the way you touched his arm. Whispered something in his ear. Natalie knew, didn’t she?”

Morgan writhes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Did the police watch far enough into the video to see you sneaking off with him during halftime? Because I did.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Morgan shoves my shoulder with her fingers.

“Did you just push me?”

“Hey!” Luke and Gabriel rush to our aid. Luke lines up like a soldier at Morgan’s side, while Gabriel thrusts one arm in front of me, as if in protection. And that summons Ben like a beacon. I hadn’t even seen him arrive. Amber and Bronte aren’t far behind. Gang’s all here.

“What’s going on?” Bronte’s eyes are wide, pleading with me to stop. But I can’t.

“I was merely asking Morgan why she’s lying. Luke, you may as well answer, since you’re here, too. You weren’t with Morgan during halftime. She was with someone else.”

“What the fuck is it to you?” he says. “Ben, control your girl.”

“Excuse me?” I explode before Ben or Gabriel have the chance. I can take care of myself. “That’s some misogynist bullshit. What? Did you kill Natalie because she refused to be controlled? Because she knew your secret? I saw your texts from that night.”

“I knew you did something with my phone! What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Adrenaline pumps through me; I teeter on the edge of excitement and panic.

“Why don’t you tell the truth about you and Natalie?”

“Me? You think I’m the big liar about Natalie, and you’re running around town with Ben playing happy young lovers? Has he told you about him and Natalie? Her big secret.”

“Luke.” It’s just one word, just his name, but Ben’s tone is deadly cold.

“No, no, if we’re picking apart my love life, then it’s only fair to talk about Ben and Natalie. You were fucking all last year, even after she officially, publicly hated you.”

“Holy shit.” That’s Amber.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Bronte pleads.