“I have no idea what that is, but it sounds better.” She smiles and smooths her shiny, black pixie hair as I slam my locker door. When I look back up, she’s peering at me in a very familiar way. Javier is too. Nina’s father is a police officer and was first on the scene when Mrs. Weeks called 911 about Declan. It’s highly likely Mr. Paradis shielded his daughter from the most gruesome details, but I can’t help thinking that she knows more about what happened that day than all of us, simply because of her connections.

I wince, waiting for it. The two of them exchange glances, daring each other to broach the subject first, so I say, “Nice talking to you,” and turn to make my escape.

Nina hooks my arm in hers and walks with me toward first period. “Really. We just want to know how you are. You know. Because of everything.”

Because of everything. It occurs to me that she can’t zero in on one thing because everything in my life is shit. “Everything”—I emphasize the word—“is fine.”

“You were okay yesterday?”

I take a sip of my water. “Sure. Easy-peasy.”

She touches my water bottle. “So, what’s that?” she singsongs.

I sigh. “Water. Really.” I ignore the fact that she’s leaning in, probably to smell my breath. “Geez. Can’t I make a mistake once without everyone getting on me for it?”

Javier falls in line behind us. “It was twice.”

“Thank you for keeping score, Jav,” I grumble. They’re not the only ones taking an interest in my water bottle. Mr. Vanderbilt, my chem teacher, watches from the door of his classroom. It’s hazy, but I think I fell shitfaced off one of the stools in his lab before Christmas and he had to carry me to the nurse’s while I drifted in and out of consciousness.

“Fine. You know what?” I stalk past a trash can and drop the bottle in it. “I’d rather dehydrate like a sad raisin than hear it from you guys.”

I try to be light and fun about it, grinning, but there’s this underlying tension to my voice. The more I push for normalcy, the less I succeed. “You look tired,” Nina observes.