Nevaeh waves her phone at us, blowing a soft drift of hair from her forehead.

“Or it could be one of these people,” she says. She shows us the notifications coming through, texts and messages from friends and some from names I barely recognize, everyone wanting to know what’s going on, because they heard something might be going on. Everyone wanting the whole story. “Everyone in this school likes to talk. Someone who heard about the show and didn’t mind their own business? I don’t know! How are we supposed to know?”

“Christopher,” I say.

“Maybe! Who knows! It’s bullshit, no matter who gave us away.” She stuffs her phone back in her pocket with an impatient sound and grabs Katherine’s hand. “Can I tell you how much I don’t want to look at my Instagram comments?”

“Or go to class right now,” Katherine says.

“No, it’s lunch now,” Nevaeh says, pointing at the clock tower on the library building. “I am going to eat a cheeseburger. No, today it will be two cheeseburgers. Cheese fries. And we are going to finish studying for our chem tests.”

They walk me back to the dorm—I want to change out of my leo and warm-ups into a giant, bulky, armor-like sweater. And I won’t just crawl into my bed and put a pillow on my head and try to not die of guilt, which I didn’t realize was possible, or hadn’t thought about it before, but there you go.

“It will be okay,” Katherine tells me with a squeeze, though I’m the one who’s supposed to be telling them that. Nevaeh tucks my hair back into my hood and presses her cheek against mine.

When I bring myself to look at my phone screen, there’s a text from Jack—can we talk? he asks. I hesitate, before I respond.

yes, I type back. The relief is unexpected.

would you believe i’ve never gotten a single demerit before?

of course not

and now i have enough to keep me going through the end of the year

But—just demerits? That’s all he’s gotten? No. We’ll talk about it tomorrow. He’ll explain.

Now it’s the next message—from Carly already. She wants to see me. She already knows. I don’t want to see her face. Sexy entertainment, she said, dismissing it. Creative stripping. She won’t have changed her mind. Can I pretend I didn’t see her text?