I swallow, thinking of the funeral. Of all those cars lined up at the cemetery. Nearly everyone from school came. It was unseasonably warm. After all the snow we’d had that winter, no one had expected rain, so we all stood there, getting soaked without our umbrellas, dress shoes sinking into the patches of snow and mud. Blessed are the dead that the rain falls on.

I get why Mrs. Weeks was so perplexed by this picture. Declan was the last person anyone would want to threaten.

My eyes trail back to the Book of a Thousand Selfies, and I find something poking out from the pages. It’s a dried carnation. Attached to it, a message in very familiar handwriting.

D—I love you, you amazing, wonderful, gorgeous, but also completely insane person, you.—H

I’d bought it for him last year. The only carnation I’d ever bought from the Key Club. I’d never written a love note before, never even said those words to another guy. But I didn’t hesitate as I’d filled out the card. I knew he’d send me one too. He’d talked about it. He’d said I’d like the message, so I wasn’t worried about rejection. Everything he did, everything he said, even the way he looked at me over those thick black frames of his, said he loved me.

I doubt so many things in my life. But I never doubted that. Not until…

My carnation for him sat in his homeroom the entire day, unclaimed. A hundred students probably walked by Mrs. Branson’s desk and saw it there.

I’d texted him to see where he was. He never responded. I texted Kane, but Kane hadn’t seen him either. There was a nasty flu going around. I figured he was down and out. Throughout the day, I kept feeling my face to see if it was hot, if I was coming down with the bug too.

We’d had early dismissal that day because of a threatening snowstorm. I claimed Declan’s Valentine and came home in my Jeep, figuring I’d give it to him at home, along with some chicken soup and Nyquil.

It had started snowing. Mr. and Mrs. Weeks had just come home from the Poconos, where they’d gone for a long weekend. They were always doing things like that—acting like newlyweds, and leaving Declan and Kane at home on their own. Mr. Weeks went out to the shed in the back of the property to get more gasoline for his snow blower. The padlock on the barn door, which was usually secure, was hanging by the metal hinge.

He must have done it sometime during the day. Ironically, though no one remembers hearing the shot, we all heard his father’s anguished wail. It was high-pitched and so, so sad.