If Parker was the reason Kori was dead, then I was to blame too. I should have stopped her from getting in his car.

Brittney gave a playful laugh. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I’ve heard other theories.”

“Yeah?” Chelsea grunted. “What other theories have you heard, Britt?”

“I heard Kori was pregnant and went to meet her baby’s daddy. Hey, I bet that’s who killed her! He tried to make it look like an accident, and messed with Parker’s brakes or … maybe he hired a sniper to take out a tire!”

“That’s stupid, Britt. She was with Parker. What do you think happened? They had a total coke binge and were still tanked when they drove to school.”

“See, I told you—an overdose. He tampered with their drugs.”

“Britt.”

“What? I heard she was going to meet someone … some guy who got her pregnant. Parker took her to meet him at a motel to get abortion money and drugs. Like he couldn’t have given them bad drugs?”

I could almost hear Chelsea’s eyes roll. Or maybe those were mine. These were not exactly theories I could use.

Chelsea smacked her lips together again, fluffed her fingers through her hair.

“I’m so sick of these stupid rumors. People need to quit talking about her.” Chelsea clasped her purse shut. They were leaving. The bell would be ringing soon.

“You’re just jealous because they aren’t talking about you anymore.”

“Could you shut up already?”

“Wow, bitchy much, Chels?”

Chelsea’s cheerleading shoes squeaked across the tile. The door whooshed open. “Just don’t believe everything you …” The door whooshed shut.

I was about to drop my feet to the floor when I heard another set start squeaking. I didn’t have time to deal with this. As soon as I heard the door open, I started out, catching the distinctive sable-colored ponytail of one Marci Mancini as she squeezed through the door. Her Coach purse caught in the opening and as she jerked it free, a postcard tumbled down to the floor.

I expected it to be one of the Colorado Cares cards promising 24/7 shrink-wrapped psychology that the teachers had passed out during the assembly. It wasn’t. It was a sonogram picture.

The bell rang. Crap. Dick Click was not going to be happy to see me. As Oprah would say, this was my pebble.

After school, I stood at Kori’s opened locker. Lexi and Cole were long gone, as were most of the students. I’d wanted to do this alone. Not to reminisce or mourn. As I stood there, staring at her locker, her things, there was really only one thing I wanted: to know how to start.

“Serena?”