“Eve,” Winston said. It felt like the first time he’d said her name, and she turned to him. His eyes remained forward, facing the conclusion barreling toward them.

“I know who wrote the list. And it wasn’t Brody.”

45

SOPHIE

From the wings, Sophie watched the show go on.

She thought of what Brody said. We are what people expect of us, right?

And she thought of the names on the library sign-in:

Caleb Rhines 7:15 A.M.

Winston Byrd 7:20 A.M.

She thought of the mornings she’d come in by 7:10 A.M. for swim practice in seventh grade. Some kids whose parents worked early were dropped off for breakfast an hour before the homeroom bell rang. The only places they were allowed to go to were sports practices, the cafeteria to eat, or the library.

She tried to remember who she’d seen back then. Rose Reed, definitely. Curtis Milford. Miranda Garland. Caleb Rhines. Winston Byrd.

Brody hadn’t written the list. He hadn’t pretended to be Caleb or Winston, thinking through how to cover his every move like a supervillain. Plus, the librarian would have known him. Everyone knew Brody Dixon. Writing in another name wouldn’t have worked.

It was Caleb or Winston. Or Caleb and Winston. But why?

As Nessa and Brody sang “Till There Was You,” their harmonies floating through the air and brightening the stage like fireflies, Sophie wondered if she should stop Nessa.

Brody hadn’t written the list, it was true, but he was most likely guilty of spray painting the locker. And he had done even worse stuff!

Was there suspension enough for breaking people down like he did?

No.

Curtain call was close. Maybe she had to make this decision with Nessa. As the song ended, she tried to signal to Nessa that they had to talk, but there was no time.

There was no time to turn back.

Revenge would happen, but maybe not justice. Or were they the same thing? Sophie didn’t know anymore.

46

EVE

“It was Caleb,” Winston told her. “I watched him do it.”

He held her hand and begged her not to leave.

The voices onstage melded with Winston’s pleading whisper, and it all felt like a dream.

“You know how Caleb was my best friend.”

She nodded.

“I know you understand. You also have a best friend like him, someone you’ve known forever. But I don’t have a brother or sister. Caleb was that for me.”

“Winston…,” she started to say, to stop him. She had to leave. She had to talk to Nessa.

“Okay. Wait.” He took a breath. “Everything I told you about myself was true. School was brutal for me. Caleb knew I was a target for guys like Brody, so going into middle school he became friends with him. He said it was to protect us both. But I found out that to be protected from guys like that, you have to become guys like that. And I couldn’t. But for Caleb … it seemed easy. He liked feeling, I dunno, in charge. And until this year, it wasn’t so bad. He worked on our robot project with me after school; he didn’t talk about girls all day long or something. But eighth grade? First, he got obsessed with Amina, saying all day how gorgeous she was and stuff, then he said Brody had told him she was ‘crazy,’ and so he started to get all obsessed with Rose. And he just … disappeared.” Winston spoke in a rush, the words pouring out of him as though, if he stopped speaking, she might leave.