“Amazing,” Frankie says, reaching out and grabbing Lily’s hands. “Amazing.” She turns to the new crew, smiling brightly. “All right, welcome to SMAAC. We’ve got a rally to plan.”

  “Hey, Fabrics.”

  My heart nearly seizes in my chest.

  I turn back toward the door.

  It’s Kelsey.

  “Heeeey,” I say, more surprised to see her than anyone else. “I didn’t think you’d—”

  “Well, Lily is wildly convincing,” she says, nodding at Lily and the girls fluttering around Frankie, plucking out poster boards. “Besides, I felt kinda bad missing your last meetup. What can I do?”

  “This is mostly Frankie’s show, to be honest,” I say, pointing toward the desk.

  “Yeah?” she asks, walking up next to me. She bites her lip and then shakes her head. “You know, I felt like there was a good pickup line in all of that, something about wanting to see you in action . . . but I’m a little burned out today.”

  “Wh-what?” I stammer out as she strolls over to the desk. She plucks out a sheet of poster board and looks back at me. She winks, and that wink is so powerful I swear I hear a crash of thunder as her eye closes.

  Is . . . Kelsey flirting with me? Kelsey fucking Nicolau?

  No. No way.

  And even if she is, it’s me and Frankie still. Me and her. I can’t let this little crush get the best of me here.

  My heart is going wild. My God. I clear my throat, shake my head, and try to focus on the work in front of us.

  Everyone comes alive under Frankie’s directions, fussing over the poster boards, passing around markers, cutting out letters. It reminds me of being a kid—a little one, really—doing arts and crafts at sleepaway camp years ago. Sharing glue and glitter and wildly awkward first kisses with girls who were just as puzzled as I was about these strange feelings our parents didn’t understand. Girls who grew up looking way cooler than me, walking, talking memories that I see living their lives on Instagram. Or in person, like with Kelsey. Most of them are out loud in a way I don’t think I’ll get to be until I get away from Connecticut.

  Well, from my mom, really.

  Most of them look and act like Kelsey, who is still here, who is just herself all the time. God, what must it be like? She looks up at me while tracing out some kind of lettering on a board and gives me another smirk that threatens to just ruin my life.

  Now is not the time.

  The classroom door swings open again, and in walks that new kid.

  Phoenix something.

  The boy who was falling all over himself to talk to Frankie the other day and seems to be all over her on social media, liking and commenting on every damn thing.

  He looks about the room, puzzled, like a new puppy who isn’t sure of its surroundings, until he lays eyes on Frankie, and he just lights up. Frankie glances up and spots him, smiling, and there’s this sudden twinge of . . . jealousy, maybe, twisting itself in my chest. It’s the way he looks at her and that little smile she flashed back.

  It looks way too much like the smile she saves for me. Or the way Kelsey keeps throwing me these playful glances. Like there’s something there, hidden and unspoken, waiting to be brought to the surface.

  I stroll over to Phoenix.

  “Hey.” I put my hand out. “You here for SMAAC?”

  “Uh, yeah,” he says, shaking my hand but not quite looking at me. He tries to peer around me, toward Frankie. “I’m Phoenix.”

  “Jo,” I say, sucking at my teeth. “You’re that new kid, right?”

  “That’s me.” He shrugs. “Is, uh . . .” He points over at Frankie. “I’m just gonna check in with Frankie. Are you guys all done already?”

  “No, no,” I say as he steps around me, walking toward her. “We’re not done.”

  “Great.” He grins. “I just wanna do my part, you know?”

  “Yeah.” I nod.

  Phoenix walks over to Frankie, and the two of them chat with each other in hushed voices, and she . . . giggles. Frankie doesn’t giggle. I grab a piece of poster board and some markers and make my way over to an empty desk. For a minute, I think about sitting with Kelsey, but this isn’t the time to be petty. It’s nothing, it’s got to be nothing.

  It has to be nothing.

  I don’t know if my heart could handle it being something.

  • • •

  Kelsey, Lily, and the rest of the surprising new SMAAC crew make their way out of the classroom as the bell rings, signaling lunch for some of us, class for the others. My stomach rumbles at the thought of whatever might be on the Monday cafeteria menu, with a little wave of nausea in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s because I’m hungry or because I’m feeling . . . this looming sense of unease.

  Phoenix is still lingering in the room, picking up scraps of paper and other supplies, while Frankie fusses over something on her phone at the desk. I debate leaving, but instead I lurk in the classroom, watching as he dumps out the trash and places some collected markers and scissors on Frankie’s desk.

  This is ridiculous. What is wrong with me? I’m tumbling over my words whenever Kelsey is around, and still, here I am, getting jealous over Frankie having a new friend who clearly has a crush on her. But she seems to be . . . entertaining it? I keep brushing off whatever is happening with Kelsey, but Frankie does not seem to be doing the same.

  Ugh, I hate this.

  “So . . .” Phoenix says, looking a little coy. “See you later?”

  “Yeah, totally.” Frankie looks up at him, a little smile on her face.

  And with that, he hands her something and ducks out the door. He gives me a second look, and I try to soften my glare at him, but I don’t think it works. Besides, I’m not sure I want to pull any of that back.

  What is going on here?

  “So.” I clear my throat. “What is all that?”

  “What’s what?” Frankie asks, her eyes flitting up from her phone to me and then back down. “I’m working on an event page for the rally.”

  “You know that’s not what I’m talking about, right?” I edge up closer to the desk and she scowls at me.

  “I . . . don’t?” She gives me a look.

  “It’s that fuckboy who just went out of here,” I snap, but there’s something else brewing under all of this, and I have to bite at my lip to stop a sob from wrenching out of me. Not Frankie. Not all this. Between the shit at home and everything going on here, she’s all I have. The one safe haven in this disaster town. “Just be honest. If you’re about to break my heart just do it.”

  “What’s your problem?” Frankie asks, putting her phone down on the desk. “He’s just here trying to help.”

  “Right,” I huff. “I see the way he looks at you. It’s the same way he was swooning over you in the hallway the other day. Are you . . . into him?”

  “Are you serious, Jo?” Frankie scoffs. “You’re jealous? Of what? Also, I’m not sure this is the best place for any of that. You do know what we’re here for, right?”

  “Fine.” I clear my throat, rubbing my forehead. She’s right. We’re here planning a rally. “I guess I’m overreacting. I’m sorry. All this is just . . . it’s a lot.”

  “It’s you and me,” Frankie says, getting up and walking around the desk. She grabs my hands, and it’s again taking everything in me not to cry. Over on the desk is the thing Phoenix handed her. It’s a folded note with a little heart on it, colored in with red pen, and her name scrawled in the middle.

  It is something, but I look away.

  I clear my throat.

  “Me and you.”

  Dear Frankie,

  My God. You’re so much braver than anyone gives you credit for.

  I know I haven’t been in town long. But I’ve been here long enough to understand the people here. How everyone seems to bury their head in the sand when dealing with confrontation. When something uncomfortable is in front of them. Everyone at school is talking about Bella, but no one is actually saying anything.

  No one is chiming in to take action, to do something about this.

  No one but you. And I want you to know that even though you might think no one sees it, that I do. I remember what we talked about that night at the park. How you wrestle with being seen, being heard, being understood.

  I get you, Frankie Healy.

  And in a new city, where I find myself mostly alone . . . I think you get me too.

  Phoenix

  PS: Meet me at the park after school?

  Chapter Fourteen

  Nick

  I stare at the doors to the high school gym for a beat, as a few kids shuffle by me, pushing through. I can hear the roar of what sounds like the entire student body inside as they swing open, a gust of hot air blowing through as the large doors shut.

  I don’t want to go in there.

  All day, everyone has been staring at me. I’m Andrew’s best friend. I was there at the party. I’m the one who was close with Bella. There’s just this . . . bullet list following me around in the shape of everyone staring daggers at me, each point a painful jab.

  I didn’t do anything.

  And at the same time . . .

  . . . that’s the problem.

  I hear Principal Clarke talking inside. “Okay, okay. Let’s all settle down . . .”

  Shit.

  I nudge the doors open, pushing them as gently as I can to avoid the usual loud clap sound of the lock and bar, and hold them as they shut behind me. Students are still muttering in the bleachers as Principal Clarke asks everyone to quiet down again. I slide onto an end seat on the bleachers, the closest to the edge and the door. I don’t want to walk across the gym in front of everyone. I don’t have it in me to find a seat next to anyone I know right now.

  I glance up and, in the crowd of kids, spot Lily.

  She gives me the finger, and I turn away.

  “Thank you, thank you,” Principal Clarke says, the talking softening to a din of whispers, sneakers squeaking against the varnished bleachers as people fidget and move. “I know none of you really want to be here right now and that mandatory assemblies aren’t exactly the most thrilling way to spend the last class at the end of the day.”

  “True!” someone shouts. Laughter erupts.

  “Okay, okay.” Principal Clarke casts sideways glances at the teachers sitting near him. His podium is in front of the bleachers, a couple of feet away, with a few folding metal chairs next to him. Some of the teachers there are familiar: Mr. Martinho, Miss Rishi, Miss Vicente. There are two other people there, looking stern and serious, both holding cups of coffee even though it’s, like, 2:00 P.M.

  They look like plainclothes police officers. Like they’re straight out of a True Detective episode, dressed regular, but not regular enough. In a way that says “I’m not a cop!” but just points out that they are. At some point do police officers, like, forget how normal people dress?

  I don’t know.

  But they make me nervous.

  “It’s been . . . a weekend,” Principal Clarke starts, nodding, his tone a bit solemn. “For our community here. Your friends, your parents, your teachers, have been swept up in the . . . well, I almost called it a ‘scandal,’ but it’s not really that, is it? A scandal, a rumor, a bit of gossip—that’s something else altogether, reserved for those of you who watch reality television. Where the problems aren’t really problems, but jokes.”

  He sighs, shakes his head, and gives the podium a rap with his knuckle.

  “This. This is not a joke.” He looks around the bleachers, and it’s like he’s making eye contact with absolutely everyone. I don’t think anybody moves. The silence is intense. He’s . . . good at his job.

  “A crime was committed here,” he continues. “That photo, the one circulating of someone in our community? Not only is that evidence of a crime, but it’s also a crime, just sharing that picture. And all of you, as teenagers, as young adults, should absolutely know better. I’m not here to chastise you but to educate. To let you know that your actions have consequences.”

  I look over my shoulder, at Lily and her friends, some girls I don’t really know. They’re staring at me. Lily nudges someone in front of her and nods in my direction, this other person’s eyes joining theirs.

  Goddamn it.

  “If any of you are caught continuing to spread that photo, you will be investigated. We aren’t talking about detention or suspension. We’re talking about expulsion. It is considered an act of violence against one of your peers, regardless of how you might feel about it.” He looks over at the we’re-totally-not-cops, who nod at him. “Now, Detective Phil Cabarle is going to speak to you a little bit more. But this is a warning coming from me. Do not share that photo. And if you know something about who took the initial photo or anything else that happened that night, you need to do the right thing and speak up.”

  I swallow, my throat going dry.

  Bits and pieces of that night have been working their way back to me. It wasn’t just Andrew lurking around Bella, it was him actively nudging everyone else away from her. I can see it now, those moments. Like little pieces of a puzzle I’ve found on the floor.

  But still, I don’t think any of that is enough to really help.

  And getting involved . . . I don’t know if I can do it.

  What would Mom say?

  I look over my shoulder again, and this time, Lily is glaring at me along with what looks like a third of the bleachers. Everyone on her side is staring down at me, whispering to one another. A flash of heat pulses through me, and I turn away, my eyes fighting to look back.

  “Hello, students of Greenport High School, thank you for having me here. I’ll try not to take up too much of your time,” Detective Cabarle says, taking off his hat. He definitely has that grizzled look of someone who has seen a lot, which is strange considering we’re in Greenport, where the most violent things that go on are . . .

  Hm.

  I guess making a joke about toilet papering trees doesn’t really work anymore, when actual violence has happened.

  “This is now an active investigation,” the detective continues. “If any of you know anything about the events of Saturday night, please don’t hesitate to contact the local police department and ask straightaway for me. Or, if you’re not comfortable with that, please talk to your principal here or your parents. There are a lot of avenues you can use to get your information to us. We want you to feel safe and to help us make your community a safe one.”

  He clears his throat.

  “But make no mistake.” His eyes flit up, looking at everyone again, but his gaze is a lot different from our principal’s. There’s a fierceness there. “We will get to the bottom of this. We’ve already talked to the victim, as you can imagine, as well as the accused. You likely won’t see them here, and I would ask you to respect their need for privacy in this time. That goes for both of them. I know you might feel this urge to say something on social media, text someone, maybe be . . . not nice, to either of them. What’s important here is getting answers, and getting them soon, by not doing anything rash.”

  I look over my shoulder again, and there’s Lily making eye contact with me. She nudges someone next to her, and again, the eyes glance my way. So many. It feels like everyone.

  It . . . it feels like everybody here is looking right at me.

  Something seizes in my chest, and suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

  Everything is fucked.

  My throat goes wildly dry, and I can’t swallow. I feel like I’m choking on air.

  I slide off the bleacher and burst through the doors, hurrying into the hallway. I lean over a drinking fountain, and before I can get any water, I start dry heaving. I hold on to the steel frame of it, my body shaking, shaking, until it stops.

  I take a few sips of water, my throat absolutely burning.

  And when I stand back up, Principal Clarke and Detective Cabarle are right next to me.

  “Nick,” Principal Clarke says. “Let’s . . . take a walk.”

  “No, no, Principal Clarke. I . . . I didn’t . . .” I glance at the detective, who is looking at me intensely. Like he’s dissecting everything I say. “I’m just . . .”

  “Nick, you’re not in trouble,” Principal Clarke says. “But I know . . .” He looks at the detective, who just nods back at him. “I know you and Andrew are friends. Everyone knows. You two are inseparable. If you know anything about what happened that night, you need to go to the police with your parents and say something.”

  I glance at the detective.

  “I’m not going to take you in a room and grill you with questions, kid.” A little smirk dances across his face. “But if you don’t talk to your parents about this . . . I’ll talk to them first.”

  “I need to think,” I say, feeling like I’m about to start sweating.

  “And that’s okay,” Detective Cabarle says, pulling a business card out of his pocket. He hands it to me, and I take it. “When you’re ready to talk, have your parents reach out. It’s okay. I’m just here to help. But don’t take too long.”

  I look up at Principal Clarke, who nods.

  “Okay.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Phoenix

  I smile at the nurse sitting behind the waiting room desk and tap my fingers against the hard particleboard surface. She glances up, her eyes warm.

  “If it isn’t the world’s best younger brother.” She beams at me. “Visiting?”

  “Hey, Mary.” I smile back.

  “You know the room,” she says, looking back at her computer. “She should be awake.”

  “Any, you know, updates?” I ask. Her smile shrinks back a little, a tight one full of pity, and I wince. “Okay, okay.”

  “Sorry, darling,” she says. “Let us know if you need anything, she needs anything, the usual.”

  I walk by the desk in Ruby’s ward, a few other nurses nodding at me as I stroll by. We haven’t been here that long, but apparently our family has made an impression. Mom showing up almost every other day with pizza for everyone certainly helped, and so does being kind, I think. Out of the several days I’ve been coming here, I’ve seen a lot of yelling and screaming at that desk.

 

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