“Eventually I heard two voices raised in what sounded like anger. It was you and Chloe. You were arguing with each other loudly. Or so it appeared. I took a step toward you both—you were a good hundred feet away and hadn’t yet seen me—but then you moved to a nearby vehicle and got in together. Not a minute later, the car tore out of the parking lot, and I went back to my chaperoning duties. It couldn’t have been long after you left that you had your accident. But I knew none of that then. None of us did. I only heard about the accident the next morning, and as I told you, I went to the hospital, but wasn’t allowed to see you.”

I close my eyes and try—very hard—to bring back memories of that night. But there’s nothing but blackness. A complete blind spot—no memory of talking to Ron, being mad at Chloe, or arguing with her.

I certainly don’t remember getting in the car and speeding off.

But two very different people—first Hannah and now Ron—have told me I was angry that night. Ron confirms Hannah’s story. Shit.

That has to mean Hannah is telling the truth.

I try and try to remember but see nothing except starburst patterns swirling against my closed eyelids.

“Nothing comes back?” he asks.

“No. Nothing.”

“Sadly, I have to be getting inside,” Ron says. “Duty calls. And you shouldn’t worry so much about your memories. You’ll make many more in this life.”

My eyes open. The sky is turning gray and starting to spit rain against the windshield. “Yeah, I guess you have class to teach,” I say. “Thanks for coming out.”

“It’s my pleasure,” he says. “We can talk again. Anytime. Just keep working with the doctors. And, well, trust that the police will figure out all this sordidness.”

“Did they talk to you?” I ask.

“They did. They talked to everyone in the school. Everyone who had any contact with you or with Chloe. And now they’re starting all over again about Daniel.”

“So you told them what you just told me?” I ask.

“I did indeed. I had to. But I also told them you possess a sterling character. I told them I have never seen any hint of a problem from you. In short, I told them the truth.”

“Thanks,” I say. “Hey? When you were outside and saw Chloe and me, did you also happen to see Mike Basher? Do you know him?”

“Basher? The world’s worst quarterback? Why do you ask?”

“He and Chloe used to date. Remember, he wrote that freaky poem about Chloe early in the year?”