Sexism is alive and well in true-crime coverage, because Bronwyn and Iaren't nearly as popular with the general public as Cooper and Nate.Especially Nate. All the tween girls posting about us on social media lovehim. They couldn't care less that he's a convicted drug dealer, because he'sgot dreamy eyes.

Same goes for school. Bronwyn and I are pariahs--other than her friends,her sister, and Janae, hardly anyone talks to us. They just whisper behindour backs. But Cooper's as golden as ever. And Nate--well, it's not likeNate was ever popular, exactly. He's never seemed to care what peoplethink, though, and he still doesn't.

"Seriously, Addy, stop pulling that stuff up. I don't want to see it."Bronwyn rolls her eyes at me, but she doesn't really look mad. I guesswe're almost friends now, or as friendly as you can get when you're not onehundred percent sure the other person isn't framing you for murder.She won't play along with my obsessive need to track our news stories,though. And I don't show her everything, especially not the horriblecommenters tossing racial slurs at her family. That's an extra layer of suckshe doesn't need. Instead, I show Janae one of the more positive articlesI've found. "Look. The most-shared article on BuzzFeed is Cooper leavingthe gym."

Janae looks awful. She's lost more weight since I first ran into her in thebathroom, and she's jumpier than ever. I'm not sure why she eats lunch withus, since most of the time she doesn't say a word. But she glances gamely atmy phone. "It's a good picture of him, I guess."Kate shoots me a severe look. "Would you put that away?" I do, but inmy head I'm giving her the finger the whole time. Yumiko's all right, butKate almost makes me miss Vanessa.

No. That's a complete and utter lie. I hate Vanessa. Hate how she's mean-girled her way into the center of my former group and how she's glommedon to Jake like they're a couple. Even though I don't see much interest onhis part. Chopping my hair off was like giving up on Jake, since hewouldn't have noticed me three years ago without it. But just because I'veabandoned hope doesn't mean I've stopped paying attention.

After lunch I head for earth science, settling myself on a bench next to alab partner who barely glances in my direction. "Don't get toocomfortable," Ms. Mara warns. "We're mixing things up today. You've allbeen with your partners for a while, so let's rotate." She gives uscomplicated directions--some people move left, others right, and the rest ofus stay still--and I don't pay much attention to the process until I wind upnext to TJ.

His nose looks a lot better, but I doubt it'll ever be straight again. Hegives me a sheepish half smile as he pulls the tray of rocks in front of uscloser. "Sorry. This is probably your worst nightmare, right?"Don't flatter yourself, TJ, I think. He's got nothing on my nightmares. Allthose months of angsty guilt about sleeping with him in his beach houseseem like they happened in another lifetime. "It's fine."We classify rocks in silence until TJ says, "I like your hair."I snort. "Yeah, right." With the possible exception of Ashton, who'sbiased, nobody likes my hair. My mother is appalled. My former friendslaughed openly when they saw me the next day. Even Keely smirked. She'smoved right on to Luis, like if she can't have Cooper, she'll settle for hiscatcher instead. Luis dumped Olivia for her, but nobody blinked an eyeabout that.

"I'm serious. You can finally see your face. You look like a blond EmmaWatson."

That's false. But nice of him to say, I guess. I hold a rock between mythumb and forefinger and squint at it. "What do you think? Igneous orsedimentary?"

TJ shrugs. "I can't tell the difference."

I take a guess and sort the rock into the igneous pile. "TJ, if I can manageto care about rocks, I'm pretty sure you can put in more of an effort."He blinks at me in surprise, then grins. "There you are.""What?"

Everyone seems absorbed in their rocks, but he lowers his voice anyway."You were really funny when we--um, that first time we hung out. On thebeach. But whenever I saw you after that you were so ... passive. Alwaysagreeing with whatever Jake said."

I glower at the tray in front of me. "That's a rude thing to say."TJ's voice is mild. "Sorry. But I could never figure out why you'd fadeinto the background that way. You were a lot of fun." He catches my glareand adds hastily, "Not like that. Or, well, yes, like that, but also ... Youknow what? Never mind. I'll stop talking now.""Great idea," I mutter, scooping up a handful of rocks and dumping themin front of him. "Sort these, would you?"

It's not that TJ's "fade into the background" comment stings. I know it'strue. I can't wrap my head around the rest, though. Nobody's ever said I'mfunny before. Or fun. I always figured TJ was still talking to me because hewouldn't mind getting me alone again. I never thought he might've actuallyenjoyed hanging out during the nonphysical part of the day.

We finish the rest of the class in silence except to agree or disagree onrock classification, and when the bell rings I grab my backpack and headfor the hall without a backward look.

Until the voice behind me stops me like I've slammed into an invisiblewall. "Addy."

My shoulders tense as I turn. I haven't tried talking to Jake since he blewme off at his locker, and I'm afraid of what he's going to say to me now."How've you been?" he asks.

I almost laugh. "Oh, you know. Not good."

I can't read Jake's expression. He doesn't look mad, but he's not smilingeither. He seems different somehow. Older? Not exactly, but ... less boyish,maybe. He's been staring right through me for almost two weeks, and Idon't understand why I'm suddenly visible again. "Things must be gettingintense," he says. "Cooper's totally clammed up. Do you--" He hesitates,shifting his backpack from one shoulder to the other. "Do you want to talksometime?"

My throat feels like I swallowed something sharp. Do I? Jake waits foran answer, and I mentally shake myself. Of course I do. That's all I'vewanted since this happened. "Yes."

"Okay. Maybe this afternoon? I'll text you." He holds my gaze, still notsmiling, and adds, "God, I can't get used to your hair. You don't even looklike yourself."

I'm about to say I know when I remember TJ's words. You were so ...passive. Always agreeing with whatever Jake said. "Well, I am," I sayinstead, and take off down the hall before he can break eye contact first.Nate

Monday, October 15, 3:15 p.m.

Bronwyn settles herself on the rock next to me, smoothing her skirt over herknees and looking over the treetops in front of us. "I've never been toMarshall's Peak before," she says.

I'm not surprised. Marshall's Peak--which isn't really a peak, more of arocky outcropping overlooking the woods we cut through on our way out ofschool--is Bayview's so-called scenic area. It's also a popular spot fordrinking, drugs, and hookups, although not at three o'clock on a Mondayafternoon. I'm pretty sure Bronwyn has no clue what happens here onweekends. "Hope reality lives up to the hype," I say.

She smiles. "It beats getting ambushed by Mikhail Powers's crew." Wehad another sneak-out-the-back routine when they showed up at the front ofschool today. I'm surprised they haven't wised up to staking out the woodsyet. Driving to the mall again seemed like a bad idea given how high ourprofile's risen over the past week, so here we are.

Bronwyn's eyes are down, watching a line of ants carry a leaf across therock next to us. She licks her lips like she's nervous, and I shift a littlecloser. Most of my time with her is spent on the phone, and I can't tell whatshe's thinking in person.

"I called Eli Kleinfelter," she says. "From Until Proven."Oh. That's what she's thinking. I shift back. "Okay.""It was an interesting conversation," she says. "He was nice abouthearing from me, didn't seem surprised at all. He promised he wouldn't tellanybody I'd called him."

For all her brains, Bronwyn can be like a little kid sometimes. "What'sthat worth?" I ask. "He's not your lawyer. He can talk to Mikhail Powersabout you if he wants more airtime."

"He won't," Bronwyn says calmly, like she's got it all figured out."Anyway, I didn't tell him anything. We didn't talk about me at all. I justasked him what he thought of the investigation so far.""And?"

"Well, he repeated some of what he said on TV. That he was surprisedthere wasn't more talk about Simon. Eli thought anyone who'd run the kindof app Simon did, for as long as he did, would've made plenty of enemieswho'd love to use the four of us as scapegoats. He said he'd check intosome of the most damaging stories and the kids they covered. And he'dlook into Simon generally. Like Maeve's doing with the 4chan stuff.""The best defense is a good offense?" I ask.

"Right. He also said our lawyers aren't doing enough to pick apart thetheory that nobody else could've poisoned Simon. Mr. Avery, for one." Anote of pride creeps into her voice. "Eli said the exact same thing I did, thatMr. Avery had the best opportunity of anyone to plant the phones anddoctor the cups. But other than questioning him a few times, the police aremostly leaving him alone."

I shrug. "What's his motive?"

"Technophobia," Bronwyn says, and glares at me when I laugh. "It's athing. Anyway, that was just one idea. Eli also mentioned the car accidentas a time when everybody was distracted and someone could've slippedinto the room."

I frown at her. "We weren't at the window that long. We would've heardthe door open."

"Would we? Maybe not. His point is, it's possible. And he saidsomething else interesting." Bronwyn picks up a small rock and juggles itmeditatively in her hand. "He said he'd look into the car accident. That thetiming was suspect."

"Meaning?"

"Well, it goes back to his earlier point that someone could've opened thedoor while we watched the cars. Someone who knew it was going tohappen."

"He thinks the car accident was planned?" I stare at her, and she avoidsmy gaze as she heaves the rock over the trees beneath us. "So you'resuggesting somebody engineered a fender bender in the parking lot so theycould distract us, slip into detention, and dump peanut oil into Simon's cup?That they couldn't possibly have known he had if they weren't already inthe room? Then leave Simon's cup lying around, because they're stupid?""It's not stupid if they're trying to frame us," Bronwyn points out. "But itwould be stupid for one of us to leave it there, instead of finding a way toget rid of it. Chances were good nobody would have searched us rightafter."

"It still doesn't explain how anybody outside the room would knowSimon had a cup of water in the first place.""Well, it's like the Tumblr post said. Simon was always drinking water,wasn't he? They could have been outside the door, watching through thewindow. That's what Eli says, anyway."

"Oh, well, if Eli says so." I'm not sure why this guy's a legal god inBronwyn's eyes. He can't be more than twenty-five. "Sounds like he's fullof dipshit theories."

I'm getting ready for an argument, but Bronwyn doesn't take the bait."Maybe," she says, tracing her fingers over the rock between us. "But I'vebeen thinking about this a lot lately and ... I don't think it was anyone inthat room, Nate. I really don't. I've gotten to know Addy a little bit thisweek"--she raises a palm at my skeptical look--"and I'm not saying I'msuddenly an Addy expert or anything, but I honestly can't picture her doinganything to Simon."

"What about Cooper? That guy's definitely hiding something.""Cooper's not a killer." Bronwyn sounds positive, and for some reasonthat pisses me off.

"You know this how? Because you guys are so close? Face it, Bronwyn,none of us really know each other. Hell, you could've done it. You're smartenough to plan something this messed up and get away with it."I'm kidding, but Bronwyn goes rigid. "How can you say that?" Hercheeks get red, giving her that flushed look that always unsettles me. She'llsurprise you one day with how pretty she is. My mother used to say thatabout Bronwyn.

My mother was wrong, though. There's nothing surprising about it."Eli said it himself, right?" I say. "Anything's possible. Maybe youbrought me here to shove me down the hill and break my neck.""You brought me here," Bronwyn points out. Her eyes widen, and Ilaugh.

"Oh, come on. You don't actually think-- Bronwyn, we're barely on anincline. Pushing you off this rock isn't much of an evil plan if all you'd dois twist your ankle."

"That's not funny," Bronwyn says, but a smile twitches at her lips. Theafternoon sun's making her glow, putting glints of gold in her dark hair, andfor a second I almost can't breathe.

Jesus. This girl.

I stand and hold out my hand. She gives me a skeptical look, but takes itand lets me pull her to her feet. I put my other hand in the air. "BronwynRojas, I solemnly swear not to murder you today or at any point in thefuture. Deal?"

"You're ridiculous," she mutters, going even redder.

"It concerns me you're avoiding a promise not to murder me."She rolls her eyes. "Do you say that to all the girls you bring here?"Huh. Maybe she knows Marshall's Peak's reputation after all.

I move closer until there's only a couple of inches between us. "You'restill not answering my question."

Bronwyn leans forward and brings her lips to my ear. She's so close I canfeel her heart beating when she whispers, "I promise not to murder you.""That's hot." I mean it as a joke, but my voice comes out like a growl andwhen her lips part I kiss her before she can laugh. A shock of energy shootsthrough me as I cup her face in my hands, my fingers grasping her cheeksand the line of her jaw. It must be the adrenaline that's making my heartpound so fast. The whole nobody-else-could-possibly-understand-this bond.Or maybe it's her soft lips and green apple-scented hair, and the way shewinds her arms around my neck like she can't stand to let go. Either way Ikeep kissing her as long as she lets me, and when she steps away I try topull her back because it wasn't enough.

"Nate, my phone," she says, and for the first time I notice a persistent,jangly text tone. "It's my sister."

"She can wait," I say, tangling a hand in her hair and kissing along herjawline to her neck. She shivers against me and makes a little noise in herthroat. Which I like.

"It's just ..." She runs her fingertips across the back of my neck. "Shewouldn't keep texting if it weren't important."Maeve's our excuse--she and Bronwyn are supposed to be at Yumiko'shouse together--and I reluctantly step back so Bronwyn can reach downand dig her phone out of her backpack. She looks at the screen and draws ina quick, sharp breath. "Oh God. My mom's trying to reach me too. Robinsays the police want me to come to the station. To, quote, 'follow up on acouple of things.' Unquote."

"Probably the same bullshit." I manage to sound calm even though it'snot how I feel.

"Did they call you?" she asks. She looks like she hopes they did, andhates herself for it.

I didn't hear my phone, but pull it out of my pocket to check anyway."No."

She nods and starts firing off texts. "Should I have Maeve pick me uphere?"

"Have her meet us at my house. It's halfway between here and thestation." As soon as I say it I kind of regret it--I still don't want Bronwynanywhere near my house when it's light out--but it's the most convenientoption. And we don't have to go inside.

Bronwyn bites her lip. "What if reporters are there?""They won't be. They've figured out no one's ever around." She stilllooks worried, so I add, "Look, we can park at my neighbor's and walkover. If anyone's there, I'll take you someplace else. But trust me, it'll befine."

Bronwyn texts Maeve my address and we walk to the edge of the woodswhere I left my bike. I help her with the helmet and she climbs behind me,wrapping her arms around my waist as I start the engine.

I drive slowly down narrow, twisty side roads until we reach my street.My neighbor's rusted Chevrolet sits in her driveway, in the exact same spotit's been for the past five years. I park next to it, wait for Bronwyn todismount, and take her hand as we make our way through the neighbor'syard to mine. As we get closer I see our house through Bronwyn's eyes, andwish I'd bothered to mow the lawn at some point in the last year.Suddenly she stops in her tracks and lets out a gasp, but she's not lookingat our knee-length grass. "Nate, there's someone at your door."I stop too and scan the street for a news van. There isn't one, just a beat-up Kia parked in front of our house. Maybe they're getting better atcamouflage. "Stay here," I tell Bronwyn, but she comes with me as I getcloser to my driveway for a better look at whoever's at the door.It's not a reporter.

My throat goes dry and my head starts to throb. The woman pressing thebell turns around, and her mouth falls open a little when she sees me.Bronwyn goes still beside me, her hand dropping from mine. I keepwalking without her.

I'm surprised how normal my voice sounds when I speak. "What's up,Mom?"