I slam the skeleton and the note onto the floor and grind it under my sneaker. I grind and grind, hoping it will all disintegrate. But the skeleton is rubber, and it just rolls around under my foot. The note slips away, landing face up, taunting me.

CHLOE KILLER.

I come back to myself. People stream past me. Slowly. They’re studying me, wondering if I really am batshit. And wouldn’t a killer rage and throw things around?

My reaction is exactly what they want. They can all text their friends and say, That dude who killed his girlfriend went nuts in the hallway. He was flipping his shit.

I take a deep, centering breath. The kind Mom told me to take when I was scared of the dark. I kick the skeleton aside with my foot and leave the note where it is. Who cares, right? The online trolls have already crossed over into the real world. The calls. The junk on the porch. Dad’s tires. Ignore them.

But my hands are shaking and my heart rollicking as I open my backpack and take out my books.

“Yo, Hunter.”

Before I turn, Chad is next to me, his long arm draped over my shoulder.

“Dude, you’re back.”

He pulls me close and then lets me go. He smells like toothpaste and shaving cream.

“Thank God,” I say.

“What’s that?” He points at the skeleton on the ground, sees the note. “That’s bullshit. Total bullshit. Hey!” He yells at no one in particular and starts to look around the hall, searching for a guilty face. “Did you do this?” He points at random people. “What about you—”

“Chad, it’s okay. It’s okay. Just ignore it. It’s okay.”

There’s one kid holding his phone, filming me. But he scoots away. Everyone else moves on.

“You sure?” Chad’s three inches taller than I am, which is why he’s the starting goalie on the soccer team. That’s how we met as freshmen. He’s thin, but not weak, with hair that flops over his forehead. He wears a flannel shirt with the sleeves perfectly rolled to the elbows and carries a single textbook and one new folder. “You don’t need to take this crap.”

“I’m just glad to see someone normal. I know you came by the house.”

“Little Livvy said you were asleep both times. I was starting to feel hurt, like maybe you didn’t love me anymore.” He nudges me with his elbow. “It’s cool. I know you weren’t feeling well. But you’re back now.” He places his hand on my shoulder. “Seriously, man. You doing okay?”

“I am. Maybe. Trying to.”

“Good. We’ve got a lot of talking to do. And my mom wants to have you over for dinner.”

The first bell echoes through the halls like a warning. We have four minutes to get to class.