He turns around slowly. “Abbi, if you can get along without your phone until tomorrow, I’ll look at the pictures again. I want to examine them, think about what they mean, and then make a decision about the police. Does that sound like a good idea?”

Skylar notices me hesitating. “Let Mr. Boyce have it,” she says. “We came here for his advice.”

“But my phone,” I say. How will I get along without it? I use it all the time. It’s like an extra organ that helps me function.

Mr. Boyce rests his hand on my shoulder. Up close he smells like he needs a shower, and his breath is straight coffee fumes. “You know what I say in class,” he says. “You kids are addicted to your electronic devices. Consider this a first step toward breaking the addiction.” He smiles sort of half-heartedly. “Cold turkey.”

“But—”

“You can do it, Abbi!” Mr. Boyce smiles at us. “The super-duper dynamic duo, my all-time favorite students, brilliant and beautiful.”

We grin at each other. We want to dance and sing and be brilliant and beautiful forever.

“So I can keep it till tomorrow?” Mr. Boyce asks me.

“Sure.” I smile at him. “Cold turkey.”

“Good girl.” He pockets my phone. “Now, if you’ll forgive me, I have errands to run.”

We take the hint and ride away on our bikes. As we coast down the hill on Third Street, we both raise our hands over our heads and shout, “Brilliant and beautiful! Super-duper dynamic duo!”

At home, we collapse on my back porch and guzzle sodas. Brilliant and beautiful, I think, brilliant and beautiful. But I don’t feel brilliant and beautiful now. In fact I feel dumb and ugly. I shouldn’t have given my phone to Mr. Boyce. It’s like I handed him my life. But how can you say no to your favorite teacher, especially when you’re one half of the super-duper dynamic duo?

I glance at Skylar. She’s scrolling through her phone, reading messages. Thanks to my stupidity, I can’t look at my messages. But Mr. Boyce can. He can look at all my photos, even the secret ones of Skylar and me dressed up in her mom’s clothes. I feel my face get red just thinking about it.

Skylar looks up. “Are you mad because I have my phone and you don’t?”

“No. I’m mad at myself for giving mine to Mr. Boyce.”

“He needs it to make a decision about the police. You’ll survive until tomorrow.”

“I guess so.” I hesitate to say what’s on my mind, but finally I blurt it out. “Did Mr. Boyce seem a little . . . I don’t know, not like himself?”

“Of course he’s not his usual self,” Skylar says. “For one thing, he’s really upset about Ms. Sullivan, plus he’s all alone. He must miss Andy a lot.”