“Been a long time,” Dad says. Another dad might pat Daniel on the back or even hug him, but Dad keeps a safe distance between them. He never gets too close. Dad always liked Daniel. Or “Danny,” as no one has called him since he was seven. Dad always thought Daniel was a smart kid, which he was, and encouraged our video projects because they kept us out of trouble.

Daniel faces my soccer friends. They all nod at each other but don’t speak. When Daniel turns toward me, Chad rolls his eyes a little in a shitty way. He’s always had a bad attitude toward Daniel—there’s the freak who used to be Hunter’s pathetic BFF.

“I’m filming the vigil,” Daniel says to me. “In fact, I’d better get this.” He turns away from me and aims his phone up at the principal. I think—hope—he’s done shooting me. But before the principal gets too far into her speech, he turns around and speaks in a voice that’s a little too loud, “Is tonight a good time to talk? After this?”

A few people glare at us. The last thing I need is for word to spread that not only did I kill Chloe but I also talked through her vigil, so I whisper, “We’ll see.”

I nod toward the stage, trying to get him to be quiet.

Daniel lifts one finger to his lips, indicating silence, and turns back to filming. But he looks over his shoulder one more time. “You’re going to love what I have to show you.”

Sixteen

Dr. Jackson goes on. And on.

Someone comes up behind me, puts their arms around me, and squeezes tight. Tiny hands with raw knuckles, dark blue nail polish, silver rings. Olivia. Gabriela gives me a hug as well, and a real smile spreads across my face.

Olivia’s mouth falls open when she sees Dad. She’s frozen like that for moments, perhaps the longest stretch of time she’s ever gone without speaking in her life. Finally, she asks, “What’s this?”

“He wanted to come,” I say, talking about Dad like he’s not right there. Which we do sometimes when he’s absorbed in something else. “He drove me.”

Olivia goes to hug Dad.