I said, ‘That’s what we’ve heard, all right. But no one’s been able to tell us what kind of weird. I figure if anyone can put a finger on that, it’s you.’

Her eyes on mine, torn.

‘Alison,’ I said gently. I thought strong, thought protective, thought myself into all her wishes. Didn’t blink. ‘Anything you know, you need to tell me. They’ll never find out it came from you. No one will. I swear.’

Alison said – hunched forward, a whisper, shrunk so as not to reach Houlihan – ‘They’re witches.’

Now that was new.

I could hear What the fuck? inside Conway’s head.

I nodded. ‘Right,’ I said. ‘How did you find that out?’

Houlihan, in the corner of my eye, leaning half off her chair. Too far away to hear. She wouldn’t come closer. If she tried, Conway would stop her.

Alison was breathing faster, with the shock of having said it. ‘They used to be, like, normal. Then they just went weird. Everyone noticed.’

‘Yeah? When?’

‘Like the start of last year? A year and a half ago?’ Before Chris; before that Valentine’s dance when even Orla had spotted something. ‘People said all kinds of stuff about why—’

‘Like what?’

‘Just stuff. Like they were gay. Or they were abused when they were kids, I heard that. But we thought they were witches.’

Glance at me, fearful. I asked, ‘Why’s that?’

‘I don’t know. Just because. We just thought it.’ Alison hunched down farther, over whatever she was hiding. ‘Probably I shouldn’t have told you.’

Her voice was tamped down to a whisper. Conway had stopped writing, in case she drowned it out. Took me a second to cop: Alison figured she’d just put herself in line for a good cursing.

‘Alison. You’re doing the right thing, telling us. That’s going to protect you.’

Alison didn’t look convinced.

I felt Conway shift. Keeping her mouth shut, like she’d promised, but doing it loudly.

I said, ‘Just a couple more questions. Are you going out with anyone?’

A surge of blush that nearly drowned Alison. A muffled clump of words I couldn’t hear.

‘Say again?’

She shook her head. Huddled right down, eyes on her knees. Braced. Alison thought I was going to point and laugh at her for not having a fella.

I smiled. ‘Not met the right guy, no? You’re dead right to wait. Plenty of time for that.’

Something else muffled.

I said – fuck Conway, she had her answer, I was getting mine – ‘If you had to pick just one thing to tell me about Chris, what would it be?’

‘Huh? . . . I barely even knew him. Can’t you ask the others?’

‘I will, of course. But you’re my observer. I’d love to hear what you remember most.’