“Sadly, it happens. It happens at colleges and universities all the time. But he won’t be teaching in Bentley anymore. Since he wasn’t entirely forthcoming with the police about his actions on the night of the accident, they might be able to charge him with obstruction. Who knows? Haley acted like the school board was going to throw the book at him. He won’t be able to leave town as long as he’s a person of interest. They’ll keep close tabs on him if they don’t charge him.” Dad looks over at me again, his face full of sympathy. “It’s hard when you find out your heroes are flawed.”

“They’re not all flawed like this,” I say. I remember his words. I can’t stop picturing him coming on to Chloe. Harassing her. Trying to kiss her at the dance so she had to fight him off. My stomach curdles. “A flaw is…not answering your emails on time or returning papers late. This is…repulsive.”

“I can’t believe you ever liked the guy,” Olivia says. “He always seemed like a creep to me.”

“Livvy,” Dad says, warning her.

“Seriously, remember when he read that poem at opening assembly?” Olivia says. “He was so full of himself. Just totally flexing in front of the entire school.” Then Olivia changes her voice to a very credible impersonation of Ron at the assembly. “‘This is a poem I wrote about the beginning of a new academic year while sojourning in Paris.’” She mimes sticking her finger down her throat. “Blech.”

I get what she’s saying. But in my heart, I still haven’t reconciled the person I knew with what he did to Chloe. And I’m horrified that it was all happening right in front of me, and I didn’t see it. Maybe I could have done something.

But I didn’t.

We all missed it. Everyone. Me. My friends. Chloe’s friends. Teachers.

Chloe’s parents.

“I just wish she’d told me,” I say.

Dad looks me right in the eye. “She was going to. She wrote that in her journal. She probably wanted to protect you. Chloe’s a strong young woman. She probably thought she could handle it on her own, until it just grew to be too much. It’s tough for some people to ask for help. That’s probably why she called that hotline. It offered psychological help. And you were probably right about something. You and Chloe were arguing that night. But I bet you wanted to tell someone about Ron. Or confront him. I think you were trying to protect Chloe, not fight with her. And you weren’t angry with her. You were angry with Hartman.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“I know why she didn’t tell you,” Olivia says, her voice much more serious than it normally is.

“You do?”

“Yeah. Because she was embarrassed.”