My eyes flick between the photos as my brain catalogs everything that happened today. Boney’s death. Dale Hawkins’s news coverage. Stealing Ms. Jamison’s day planner. Finding the kill list. Learning about Charlie’s involvement. Talking to Autumn in the murder van. Fighting with Ivy. There’s something running through it all—not a common thread, exactly, but a loose one. It keeps dangling right outside my line of vision, taunting me with the fact that if I only knew where to tug, I could start to unravel everything.
The thought enters my head before I have time to push it away: What would Ivy do? And I’m pretty sure I know.
I pull a phone from my pocket. Not mine, the one I tossed aside like a coward downstairs, but Boney’s. Maybe it’s his name, Ivy said when she was trying to guess his passcode at Crave Doughnuts. She’d entered B-O-N-E-Y, which hadn’t worked, so I type in B-R-I-A-N.
“Holy shit,” I mutter when the screen unlocks. My pulse accelerates as I pull up Boney’s messages; the last one is just a number. 5832. The code to Ms. Jamison’s studio. There’s no name attached to the phone number that sent it, but I hit audio and hold it to my ear, scanning Autumn’s bulletin board while it rings.
I zero in on one of the pictures and think, Maybe.
Then the call goes to voicemail, and I almost drop the phone as a familiar voice fills my ear. There’s no maybe about it. My heart starts to pound as my vision narrows to a pinprick, until I can’t see anything except the picture that caught my eye. I could kick myself for all the signs I missed, but at least I finally grabbed hold of the thread.
And for the first time all day, I know what I have to do.
YOUTUBE, CARLTON SPEAKS CHANNEL
Ishaan and Zack are in someone’s house, surrounded by students holding cups. Some are talking intently, some seem shell-shocked, and others are mugging for the camera.
ISHAAN: Hey, everyone, it’s Ishaan and Zack continuing our round-the-clock coverage of Boney Mahoney’s death. We’re live at Stefan St. Clair’s house, where current and former Carlton High students have come together after today’s tragic news.
ZACK, looking nervous: Technically, we weren’t invited to this.
ISHAAN: It’s practically a memorial service. Everyone’s invited. Anyway, we’ve been flooded with questions from our viewers, so we’re gonna address a few of them now. （Looks down at something in his hand.） First up: Jen from Carlton asks, Is this Ivy girl actually a suspect, or just a person of interest? Great question, Jen. Keeping in mind that we have absolutely no legal training— ZACK: Or knowledge.
ISHAAN: I would say that she’s probably both. Plus a fugitive. But again, those may not be the exact terms that law enforcement would use.
ZACK, under his breath: Where is Emily when we need her?
ISHAAN: Emily is, quote, not talking to either of you for the rest of my life. Unquote. Next question comes from Sully in Dorchester, who says, Don’t you rich pricks have anything better to do than…Okay, that’s more of a comment than a question, Sully.
（A girl pushes her way in front of the camera, breathless.） You guys. My best friend’s cousin’s dad works for a guy who knows a guy who bought the building Boney died in, and she said he said there might be drugs involved.
ZACK: I mean—yeah, that’s how Boney died, right? Drugs.
GIRL: Not just that. There were drugs found where he died. Like it was a literal den of drugs or something.
ISHAAN: Den of drugs. That’s good. That’s what we should title this episode.
（A boy with white-blond hair steps into the edge of the frame. He looks a lot like Charlie St. Clair, except taller and more clean-cut.） BLOND BOY, scowling: What’s going on here?
ISHAAN: Oh hey, Stefan. Great party. You remember me? Ishaan Mittal, we were in the same media technology class— STEFAN: That’s not what I asked. What’s going on? （His scowl deepens.） Are you filming something?
ZACK: Yeah, we’re with the Carlton Speaks Channel, and we’ve been reporting on Boney’s death all day, so— （The camera suddenly goes dark. Over the sound of confused protests, one voice emerges clearly before the sound cuts off.） STEFAN: Get the fuck out of here.
CAL
“You took the Sugar Babies?” Ivy gapes at me, betrayal written all over her face. “Why, Cal? Why would you do something like that?”
I wish I could use a bottle of paint remover to wipe off Daniel’s smug grin. I was going to tell Ivy—I even tried, briefly, when we were outside Crave Doughnuts—but not like this. “It’s complicated,” I say, rolling up my sleeves as my eyes dart to the hallway. “Hey, did you guys hear that?” I’m almost positive I heard footsteps, and grab hold of the distraction like a drowning man with a life preserver. “I think somebody might be coming.”