Chapters (95)
- Front Cover
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Contents
- Video #1
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Video #2
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Fifty-Four
- Fifty-Five
- Fifty-Six
- Fifty-Seven
- Fifty-Eight
- Fifty-Nine
- Sixty
- Sixty-One
- Sixty-Two
- Sixty-Three
- Sixty-Four
- Sixty-Five
- Video #3
- Sixty-Six
- Sixty-Seven
- Sixty-Eight
- Sixty-Nine
- Seventy
- Seventy-One
- Seventy-Two
- Seventy-Three
- Seventy-Four
- Seventy-Five
- Seventy-Six
- Seventy-Seven
- Seventy-Eight
- Seventy-Nine
- Eighty
- Eighty-One
- Eighty-Two
- Eighty-Three
- The Final Video
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Back Cover
“Sure, okay. If you need me, I’ll be down here. Grading.”
My room feels off, a little strange. My thoughts rev like a NASCAR engine. Haley has taken up residence in my brain.
Did Chloe plan to meet someone out there? Was she just using me to drive her away from the school?
I text Hector and Cameron and Chad, seeking human contact. Just asking how they’re doing. What’s up at school.
Hector claims he misses me in physics because now he’s the dumbest guy in the room. Cameron complains about having to buy his own french fries since I wasn’t there to steal from. Our conversations linger for a few minutes then die out.
Chad doesn’t answer. Soccer consumes them all.
Haley’s bombshell—about Chloe possibly being pregnant—thumps in my head, making it ache again. It’s such a private thing—if one person found out, then everyone would know. And when Chloe comes back, she’s going to have to face all the people who know her most intimate business…
But what if telling the right person makes the difference?
But who is the right person?
The next text I send sounds super casual. Hey. How are you?
Natasha writes back immediately, as if she was waiting for me. She asks how I’m doing. She says lunch is boring without me, because Chad is off with Hannah and Cameron and Hector act juvenile.
The exchange seems to have run its course. We almost never talk one-on-one.
I know you talked to the police already, but can you think of anything going on with Chloe? Then I add: You know, anything weird?
Those three little dots appear. And they sit on my screen forever.
They taunt me. Torment me.
She must have a lot to say.
No. Not really.
That’s it?
Nothing about our sex life?
I mean she told me you were going to try to do it again.
Even though I’m alone, my face flushes. But Natasha keeps going.
She was worried about going on the pill. I told her to go for it. I’ve been on it for a year and don’t have any problems. But Chloe was worried.
Chloe shared more with Natasha than I would have guessed.
The conversation seems finished. A long time passes without Natasha texting back. My calculus book waits for me. Berning would say something like: Do you think being a suspect in your girlfriend’s murder means you don’t have to do your homework?
The phone dings again. Natasha.
Clo said she could tell you wanted to try again at HoCo. But she didn’t think she wanted to. She felt weird about it.
Natasha has my attention.
Weird about what?
Trying again.
Why?