The insult made Ollie grin wider. “Literally the first time anyone’s ever called me that, and I don’t know why it’s a bad thing.” Ollie slid the newspaper to him. “You start tearing.”

“Yes, officer Art police.”

“Teacher’s pet I don’t mind, art police, I’m not a fan of.”

“Why not?”

Ollie shrugged. “The police, everyone hates them in here, I don’t want someone to overhear and think…”

“Think what?”

“I dunno.”

Rory bit his lip, then dropped his gaze to the newspaper.

The blow to his chest was physical, punching the air from his body. His heart slowed, and his vision pulsed black in time with the stuttering beats.

Erica was on the front, and the headline sliced straight into his heart.

He bowed over the table, panting for breath. Someone had dealt him the killer blow, and inside he was hemorrhaging, bleeding out.

He closed his eyes, shook his head, then looked, but she was still there. It was still her face grinning back at him next to a headline of horror. It was impossible. Rory rubbed his eyes, and looked again, wanting the picture to change to something else, but it didn’t. It was still his sister. He wasn’t bleeding out, someone had cut around his heart, and yanked it from his chest. Some invisible force squeezed it, making it struggle to work.

“There’s no way,” he murmured, clutching his chest.

He dragged his eyes off the page, and looked at the neighboring tables, all the same newspaper, all with Erica’s face on the cover. Inmates tore right through her, and others tore around her and shoved her picture in their pockets.

Rory’s gut twisted, the breathlessness continued, and his heart skipped into overdrive. The room swayed, and the noise of the classroom distorted, then sharpened, making him dizzier.

“Rory … newspaper.”

He couldn’t breathe, the room was crushing him from all sides, and the sound of tearing paper shuddered his spine.

It had to be a joke, it was the only explanation that kept his heart beating. An evil vindictive joke, but still a joke. Not real, fake, make-believe, pretend. It couldn’t be true. But no one was looking at him waiting to see his reaction, no one smirked or laughed at the emotional bludgeoning he’d just received. Everyone in the room was clueless.

“You gonna tear it up or what?”

Ollie tried to take the newspaper back, but Rory pressed his forearms down. One on either side of Erica’s face. He stared down at her and started to shake. The page blotched, and he realized tears were escaping his eyes, but didn’t feel them. They dropped around his sister, silently soaking the page. He was crying even though it wasn’t true, the joke had hit home, had landed with effect. Erica wasn’t dead, she couldn’t be.

“What is it?”