“Anora, honey, are you okay?” she asks, gripping my hands in hers. She’s desperate and slightly manic, but then, so am I. My palms sting, scored from the cement. It’s a reminder of the interaction I had with Lily before I ran away, before she somehow got onto the roof of Emerson Hall and jumped. I should have stayed. Even fighting her, I could have ensured she remained alive.

Now she’s dead.

Mom looks down at our clasped hands and notices the scrapes. “Honey, what happened?”

She reaches into her purse and withdraws a wad of crumpled tissues just as we’re called into Mr. Rivera’s office.

This is the first time I’ve been in the headmaster’s office. It’s exactly what I pictured: an ornate, cherrywood desk sits in front of a set of bookshelves full of leather-bound volumes. The only decorations on the walls are three framed diplomas. A window overlooks the front of campus. An officer stands slightly behind Mr. Rivera’s desk as he takes a seat.

“Please, sit.” Mr. Rivera indicates to two chairs in front of his desk, and we do. “Miss Silby, we were notified you were recently in an altercation with Miss Martin.”

Those words sound strange, though they are true. Mom stiffens beside me. I glimpse a flash of betrayal in her eyes before it melts into disbelief. As if the officer catches it too, he says, “We have video footage.”

“She attacked me,” I say in defense, mostly for Mom’s sake. She’s starting to fidget and tear the tissues. I need her to understand I haven’t been walking around here picking fights with people. That I’m not a problem kid.

“Did you have any previous encounters with Lily?”

“No.” I shake my head. “We were starting to be friends.”

The policeman and Mr. Rivera exchange a glance. “So her behavior toward you was…out of character?”

“Yes.”

There is silence, and then Mr. Rivera says, “But you do have a history of breaking rules, Miss Silby.”

“Was that supposed to be a question?” Mom interjects. She’s frustrated and agitated, and I’m not sure if it’s at me or them.

Lennon said Natalie would destroy me with her connections. Is this the beginning? Did she report to her father that she thinks I’m a troublemaker?

Mr. Rivera and the policeman seem to reconsider where they are taking this conversation. “What happened when you found Miss Martin?”

I shake my head a little. “I ran into her outside at lunch. She…was staring up at the roof, saying she needed to be seen.”

The words sound bizarre. I can’t tell by anyone’s expression whether they believe me.

“What else?” the officer prods.