I got lulled into a false sense of complacency.

It happens, I guess, even during the worst week of your life. Horrible,earth-shattering stuff piles on top of you until you're about to suffocate andthen--it stops. And nothing else happens, so you start to relax and thinkyou're in the clear.

That's a rookie mistake that smacks me in the face Thursday duringlunch when the usual low-grade cafeteria buzz suddenly grows and swells.At first I look around, interested, like anyone would be, and wondering whyeveryone's suddenly pulled out their phones. But before I can take mineout, I notice the heads swiveling in my direction.

"Oh." Maeve is quicker than me, and her soft exhalation as she scans herphone is loaded with so much regret that my heart sinks. She catches herbottom lip between her teeth and wrinkles her forehead. "Bronwyn. It's,um, another Tumblr. About ... well. Here."

I take her phone, heart pounding, and read the exact same wordsDetective Mendoza showed me on Sunday after Simon's funeral. First timethis app has ever featured good-girl BR, possessor of school's most perfectacademic record ...

It's all there. Simon's unpublished entries for each of us, with an addednote at the bottom:

Did you think I was joking about killing Simon? Read it and weep, kids. Everyone indetention with Simon last week had an extraspecial reason for wanting him gone. ExhibitA: the posts above, which he was about to publish on About That.

Now here's your assignment: connect the dots. Is everybody in it together, or issomebody pulling strings? Who's the puppet master and who's the puppet?I'll give you a hint to get you started: everyone's lying.

GO!

I raise my eyes and lock on Maeve's. She knows the truth, all of it, but Ihaven't told Yumiko or Kate. Because I thought maybe this could staycontained, quiet, while the police ran their investigation in the backgroundand then closed it out from lack of evidence.

I'm pathetically naive. Obviously.

"Bronwyn?" I can barely hear Yumiko over the roaring in my ears. "Isthis for real?"

"Fuck this Tumblr bullshit." I'd be startled at Maeve's language if Ihadn't vaulted over my surprise threshold two minutes ago. "I bet I couldhack that stupid thing and figure out who's behind it.""Maeve, no!" My voice is so loud. I lower it and switch to Spanish. "Nolo hagas ... No queremos ..."

I force myself to stop talking as Kate and Yumiko keep staring at me. Youcan't. We don't want. That should be enough, for now.

But Maeve won't shut up. "I don't care," she says furiously. "You might,but I--"

Saved by the loudspeaker. Sort of. Deja vu seizes me as a disembodiedvoice floats through the room: "Attention, please. Would Cooper Clay, NateMacauley, Adelaide Prentiss, and Bronwyn Rojas please report to the mainoffice. Cooper Clay, Nate Macauley, Adelaide Prentiss, and Bronwyn Rojasto the main office."

I don't remember getting to my feet, but I must have, because here I am,moving. Shuffling like a zombie past the stares and whispers, weavingthrough tables until I get to the cafeteria exit. Down the hallway, pasthomecoming posters that are three weeks old now. Our planning committeeis slacking, which would inspire more disdain if I weren't on it.When I get to the main office, the receptionist gestures toward theconference room with the weary wave of someone who thinks I shouldknow the drill by now. I'm the last to arrive--at least, I think I am, unlessBayview Police or school committee members are joining us. "Close thedoor, Bronwyn," Principal Gupta says. I comply and sidle past her to take aseat between Nate and Addy, across from Cooper.

Principal Gupta steeples her fingers under her chin. "I'm sure I don'thave to tell you why you're here. We've been keeping an eye on thatrepulsive Tumblr site and got today's update as soon as you did. At thesame time, we've had a request from the Bayview Police Department tomake the student body available for interviews starting tomorrow. Myunderstanding, based on conversations with police, is that today's Tumblr isan accurate reflection of posts Simon wrote before he died. I realize most ofyou now have legal representation, which of course the school respects. Butthis is a safe space. If there's anything you'd like to tell me that might helpthe school better understand the pressures you were facing, now is thetime."

I stare at her as my knees start to tremble. Is she for real? Now is mostdefinitely not the time. Still, I feel this almost irresistible urge to answerher, to explain myself, until a hand under the table grasps mine. Natedoesn't look at me, but his fingers thread through mine, warm and strong,resting against my shaking leg. He's in his Guinness T-shirt again, and thematerial stretches thin and soft across his shoulders, as though it's beenthrough hundreds of washes. I glance at him and he gives a tiny, almostimperceptible shake of his head.

"Ah got nothin' more to say than what ah told ya last week," Cooperdrawls.

"Me either," Addy says quickly. Her eyes are red-rimmed and she looksexhausted, her pixie features pinched. She's so pale, I notice the lightdusting of freckles across her nose for the first time. Or maybe she's just notwearing makeup. I think with a stab of sympathy that she's been the hardesthit of anyone so far.

"I hardly think--" Principal Gupta begins, when the door opens and thereceptionist sticks her head in.

"Bayview Police on line one," she says, and Principal Gupta gets to herfeet.

"Excuse me for a moment."

She closes the door behind her and the four of us sit in strained silence,listening to the hum of the air conditioner. It's the first time we've all beenin one room together since Officer Budapest questioned us last week. Ialmost laugh when I remember how clueless we were then, arguing aboutunfair detentions and junior prom court.

Although to be fair, that was mostly me.

Nate lets go of my hand and tips his chair back, surveying the room."Well. This is awkward."

"Are you guys all right?" My words come out in a rush, surprising me.I'm not sure what I intended to say, but that wasn't it. "This is unreal. Thatthey--suspect us."

"It was an accident," Addy says immediately. Not like she's positive,though. More like she's testing a theory.

Cooper slides his eyes over to Nate. "Weird kind of accident. How doespeanut oil get in a cup all by itself?"

"Maybe someone came into the room at some point and we didn'tnotice," I say, and Nate rolls his eyes at me. "I know it sounds ridiculous,but--you have to consider everything, right? It's not impossible.""Lots of people hated Simon," Addy says. From the hard set of her jaw,she's one of them. "He ruined plenty of lives. You guys remember AidenWu? In our class, transferred sophomore year?" I'm the only one who nods,so Addy turns her gaze on me. "My sister knows his sister from college.Aiden didn't transfer for the hell of it. He had a breakdown after Simonposted about his cross-dressing."

"Seriously?" Nate asks. Cooper runs a hand back and forth over his hair."You remember those spotlight posts Simon used to do when he firstlaunched the app?" Addy asks. "More in-depth stuff, like a blog, almost?"My throat gets tight. "I remember."

"Well, he did that with Aiden," Addy says. "It was straight-up evil."Something about her tone makes me uneasy. I never thought I'd hearshallow little Addy Prentiss speak with such venom in her voice. Or havean opinion of her own.

Cooper jumps in hastily, like he's worried she's going to go off on a rant."That's what Leah Jackson said at the memorial service. I ran into her underthe bleachers. She said we were all hypocrites for treating him like somekind of martyr."

"Well, there you go," Nate says. "You were right, Bronwyn. The entireschool's probably been walking around with bottles of peanut oil in theirbackpacks, waiting for their chance."

"Not just any peanut oil," Addy says, and we all turn to her. "It wouldhave to be cold-pressed for a person with allergies to react to it. Thegourmet type, basically."

Nate stares at her, brow creased. "How would you know that?"Addy shrugs. "I saw it on the Food Network once.""Maybe that's the sort of thing you keep to yourself when Gupta comesback," Nate suggests, and the ghost of a grin flits across Addy's face.Cooper glares at Nate. "This isn't a joke."

Nate yawns, unperturbed. "Feels like it sometimes."I swallow hard, my mind still churning through the conversation. Leahand I were friendly once--we partnered in a Model United Nationscompetition that brought us to the state finals at the beginning of junioryear. Simon had wanted to participate too, but we told him the wrongapplication deadline and he missed the cutoff. It wasn't on purpose, but henever believed that and was furious with both of us. A few weeks later hestarted writing about Leah's sex life on About That. Usually Simon postedsomething once and let it go, but with Leah, he kept the updates coming. Itwas personal. I'm sure he'd have done the same to me if there had beenanything to find back then.

When Leah started sliding off the rails, she asked me if I'd misled Simonon purpose. I hadn't but still felt guilty, especially once she slit her wrists.Nothing was the same for her after Simon started his campaign against her.I don't know what going through something like that does to a person.Principal Gupta comes back into the room, shutting the door behind herand settling into her seat. "My apologies, but that couldn't wait. Wherewere we?"

Silence falls for a few seconds, until Cooper clears his throat. "With alldue respect, ma'am, I think we were agreeing we can't have thisconversation." There's a steel in his voice that wasn't there before, and inan instant I feel the energy of the room coalesce and shift. We don't trustone another, that's pretty obvious--but we trust Principal Gupta and theBayview Police Department even less. She sees it too and pushes her chairback.

"It's important you know this door is always open to you," she says, butwe're already getting to our feet and opening the door ourselves.I'm out of sorts and anxious for the rest of the day, going through themotions of everything I'm supposed to do at school and at home. But I can'trelax, not really, until the clock inches past midnight and the phone Nategave me rings.

He's called me every night since Monday, always around the same time.He's told me things I couldn't have imagined about his mother's illness andhis father's drinking. I've told him about Maeve's cancer and the namelesspressure I've always felt to be twice as good at everything. Sometimes wedon't talk at all. Last night he suggested we watch a movie, and we bothlogged in to Netflix and watched a god-awful horror movie he picked untiltwo in the morning. I fell asleep with my earbuds still in, and might havesnored in his ear at some point.

"Your turn to pick a movie," he says by way of greeting. I've noticed thatabout Nate; he doesn't do pleasantries. Just starts with whatever's on hismind.

My mind's elsewhere, though. "I'm looking," I say, and we're silent for aminute as I scroll through Netflix titles without really seeing them. It's nogood; I can't go straight into movie mode. "Nate, are you in trouble becauseof how everything came out at school today?" After I left Principal Gupta'soffice, the rest of the afternoon was a blur of stares, whispers, anduncomfortable conversations with Kate and Yumiko once I finallyexplained what had been going on for the past few days.

He snorts a short laugh. "I was in trouble before. Nothing's changed.""My friends are mad at me for not telling them.""About cheating? Or being investigated by the police?""Both. I hadn't said anything about either. I thought maybe it would allgo away and they'd never have to know." Robin had said not to answer anyquestions about the case, but I didn't see how I could apply that to my twobest friends. When the whole school's starting to turn against you, you needsomebody on your side. "I wish I could remember more about that day.What class were you in when Mr. Avery found the phone in yourbackpack?"

"Physical science," Nate says. "Science for dummies, in other words.You?"

"Independent study," I say, chewing the sides of my cheeks. Ironicallyenough, my stellar grades in chemistry let me construct my own sciencecourse senior year. "I suppose Simon would've been in AP physics. I don'tknow what classes Addy and Cooper have with Mr. Avery, but in detentionthey acted surprised to see each other."

"So?" Nate asks.

"Well, they're friends, right? You'd think they'd have talked about it. Oreven been in the same class when it happened.""Who knows. Could've been homeroom or study period for one of them.Avery's a jack-of-all-trades," Nate says. When I don't reply, he adds,"What, you think those two masterminded the whole thing?""Just following a train of thought," I say. "I feel like the police are barelypaying attention to how weird that phone situation is, because they're sosure we're all in it together. I mean, when you think about it, Mr. Averyknows better than anyone what classes we have with him. Maybe he did it.Planted phones in all our backpacks and coated the cups with peanut oilbefore we got there. He's a science teacher; he'd know how to do that."Even as I say it, though, the mental image of our frail, mousy teachermanically doctoring cups before detention doesn't ring true. Neither doesCooper making off with the school's EpiPens, or Addy hatching a murderscheme while watching the Food Network.

But I don't really know any of them. Including Nate. Even though it feelslike I do.

"Anything's possible," Nate says. "You pick a movie yet?"I'm tempted to choose something cool and art house-y to impress him,except he'd probably see right through it. Plus he picked a crap horrormovie, so there's not a lot to live up to. "Have you seen Divergent?""No." His tone is wary. "And I don't want to.""Tough. I didn't want to watch a bunch of people get killed by a mistcreated from an alien tear in the space-time continuum, but I did.""Damn it." Nate sounds resigned. He pauses, then asks, "You have itbuffered?"

"Yes. Hit Play." And we do.