I'm at home with Ashton and we're trying to figure out something to do.But we keep getting stuck on the fact that nothing interests me.

"Come on, Addy." I'm lying across an armchair, and Ashton nudges mewith her foot from the couch. "What would you normally do on a weekend?And don't say hang out with Jake," she adds quickly.

"But that is what I'd do," I whine. Pathetic, but I can't help it. I've hadthis awful sickening lurch in my stomach all week, as though I'd beenwalking along a sturdy bridge and it vanished under my feet.

"Can you honestly not come up with a single, non-Jake-related thing youlike?"

I shift in my seat and consider the question. What did I do before Jake? Iwas fourteen when we started dating, still partly a kid. My best friend wasRowan Flaherty, a girl I'd grown up with who moved to Texas later thatyear. We'd drifted apart in ninth grade when she had zero interest in boys,but the summer before high school we'd still ridden our bikes all over towntogether. "I like riding my bike," I say uncertainly, even though I haven'tbeen on one in years.

Ashton claps her hands as if I'm a reluctant toddler she's trying to getexcited about a new activity. "Let's do that! Ride bikes somewhere."Ugh, no. I don't want to move. I don't have the energy. "I gave mineaway years ago. It was half-rusted under the porch. And you don't have oneanyway."

"We'll use those rental bikes--what are they called? Hub Bikes orsomething? They're all over town. Let's find some."I sigh. "Ash, you can't babysit me forever. I appreciate you keeping mefrom falling apart all week, but you've got a life. You should get back toCharlie."

Ashton doesn't answer right away. She goes into the kitchen, and I hearthe refrigerator door opening and the faint clink of bottles. When shereturns she's holding a Corona and a San Pellegrino, which she hands tome. She ignores my raised eyebrows--it's not even ten o'clock in themorning--and takes a long sip of beer as she sits down, crossing her legsbeneath her. "Charlie's happy as can be. I'm guessing he's moved hisgirlfriend in by now."

"What?" I forget how tired I am and sit up straight.

"I caught them when I went home to get more clothes last weekend. Itwas all so horribly cliched. I even threw a vase at his head.""Did you hit him?" I ask hopefully. And hypocritically, I guess. After all,I'm the Charlie in my and Jake's relationship. She shakes her head andtakes another gulp of her beer.

"Ash." I move from my armchair and sit next to her on the couch. She'snot crying, but her eyes are shiny, and when I put my hand on her arm sheswallows hard. "I'm so sorry. Why didn't you say something?""You had enough to worry about."

"But it's your marriage!" I can't help looking at Ashton and Charlie'swedding photo from two years ago, which sits next to my junior prompicture on our mantel. They were such a perfect couple, people used to jokethat they looked as though they came with the frame. Ashton had been sohappy that day, gorgeous and glowing and giddy.

And relieved. I'd tried to squash the idea because I knew it was catty, butI couldn't help thinking Ashton had feared losing Charlie right up till theday she married him. He was tremendous on paper--handsome, goodfamily, headed to Stanford Law--and our mother had been thrilled. Itwasn't until they'd been married a year that I noticed Ashton almost neverlaughed when Charlie was around.

"It's been over for a while, Addy. I should have left six months ago, but Iwas too much of a coward. I didn't want to be alone, I guess. Or admit I'dfailed. I'll find my own place eventually, but I'll be here for a while." Sheshoots me a wry look. "All right. I've made my true confession. Now youtell me something. Why did you lie when Officer Budapest asked aboutbeing in the nurse's office the day Simon died?"I let go of her arm. "I didn't--"

"Addy. Come on. You started playing with your hair as soon as hebrought it up. You always do that when you're nervous." Her tone's matter-of-fact, not accusing. "I don't believe for one second you took thoseEpiPens, so what are you hiding?"

Tears prick my eyes. I'm so tired, suddenly, of all the half-truths I'vepiled up over the past days and weeks. Months. Years. "It's so stupid, Ash.""Tell me."

"I didn't go for myself. I went to get Tylenol for Jake, because he had aheadache. And I didn't want to say so in front of you because I knew you'dgive me that look."

"What look?"

"You know. That whole Addy-you're-such-a-doormat look.""I don't think that," Ashton says quietly. A fat tear rolls down my cheek,and she reaches over to brush it away.

"You should. I am."

"Not anymore," Ashton says, and that does it. I start flat-out bawling,curled in the fetal position in a corner of the couch with Ashton's armsaround me. I don't even know who or what I'm crying for: Jake, Simon, myfriends, my mother, my sister, myself. All of the above, I guess.When the tears finally stop I'm raw and exhausted, my eyelids hot andmy shoulders sore from shaking for so long. But I feel lighter and cleanertoo, like I've purged something that's been making me sick. Ashton gets mea pile of Kleenex and gives me a minute to wipe my eyes and blow mynose. When I've finally wadded up all the damp tissues and tossed theminto a corner wastebasket, she takes a small sip of her beer and wrinkles hernose. "This doesn't taste as good as I thought it would. Come on, let's ridebikes."

I can't say no to her now. So I trail after her to the park a half mile fromour house, where there's a whole row of rental bikes. Ashton figures out thesign-up deal, swiping her credit card to release two bikes. We don't havehelmets, but we're just going around the park so it doesn't really matter.I haven't ridden a bike in years but I guess it's true what they say: youdon't forget how. After a wobbly start we take off on the wide path throughthe park and I have to admit, it's kind of fun. The breeze flutters through myhair as my legs pump and my heart rate accelerates. It's the first time in aweek I haven't felt half-dead. I'm surprised when Ashton stops and says,"Hour's up." She catches sight of my face and asks, "Should we rent foranother hour?"

I grin at her. "Yeah, okay." We get tired about halfway through, though,and return the bikes so we can go to a cafe and rehydrate. Ashton gets ourdrinks while I find seats, and I scroll through my messages while I wait forher. It takes a lot less time than it used to--I only have a couple fromCooper, asking if I'm going to Olivia's party tonight.

Olivia and I have been friends since freshman year, but she hasn't spokento me all week. Pretty sure I'm not invited, I text.

"Only Girl" trills out with Cooper's response. I make a mental note thatwhen all this is over and I have a minute to think straight, I'm going tochange my text tone to something less annoying. That's BS. They're yourfriends too.

Sitting this one out, I write. Have fun. At this point, I'm not even sadabout being excluded. It's just one more thing.

Cooper doesn't get it. I guess I should thank him; if he'd dropped me likeeveryone else, Vanessa would have gone nuclear on me by now. But shedoesn't dare cross the homecoming king, even when he's been accused ofsteroid use. School opinion is split down the middle about whether he did itor not, but he's not saying either way.

I wonder if I could have done the same--bluffed and brazened my waythrough this whole nightmare without telling Jake the truth. Then I look atmy sister, chuckling with the guy behind the coffee counter in a way shenever did with Charlie, and remember how careful and contained I alwayshad to be around Jake. If I was going to the party tonight I'd have to wearsomething he picked out, stay as late as he wanted, and not talk to anyonewho might make him mad.

I miss him still. I do. But I don't miss that.

Bronwyn

Saturday, October 6, 10:30 a.m.

My feet fly over the familiar path as my arms and legs match the rhythm ofthe music blaring in my ears. My heart accelerates and the fears that havebeen crowding my brain all week recede, replaced by pure physical effort.When I finish my run I'm drained but pumped full of endorphins, and feelalmost cheerful as I head for the library to pick up Maeve. It's our usualSaturday-morning routine, but I can't find her in any of her typical spotsand have to text her.

Fourth floor, she replies, so I head for the children's room.

She's sitting on a tiny chair near the window, tapping away at one of thecomputers. "Revisiting your childhood?" I ask, sinking to the floor besideher.

"No," Maeve says, her eyes on the screen. She lowers her voice to almosta whisper. "I'm in the admin panel for About That."It takes a second for what she said to register, and when it does my hearttakes a panicky leap. "Maeve, what the hell? What are you doing?""Looking around. Don't freak out," she adds with a sideways glance atme. "I'm not disturbing anything, but even if I were, nobody would knowit's me. I'm at a public computer."

"Using your library card!" I hiss. You can't get online here withoutentering your account number.

"No. Using his." Maeve inclines her head toward a small boy a fewtables over with a stack of picture books in front of him. I stare at herincredulously, and she shrugs. "I didn't take it from him. He left it lying outand I wrote down the numbers."

The little boy's mother joins him then, smiling as she catches Maeve'seye. She'd never guess my sweet-faced sister just committed identity theftagainst her six-year-old.

I can't think of anything to say except "Why?""I wanted to see what the police are seeing," Maeve says. "If there wereany other draft posts, other people who might've wanted to keep Simonquiet."

I inch forward in spite of myself. "Were there?""No, but there is something odd. About Cooper's post. It's date-stampeddays after everyone else's, for the night before Simon died. There's anearlier file with his name on it, but it's encrypted and I can't open it.""So?"

"I don't know. But it's different, which makes it interesting. I need tocome back with a thumb drive and download it." I blink at her, trying topinpoint the exact moment when she morphed into a hacker-investigator."There's something else. Simon's user name for the site is AnarchiSK. IGoogled it and came up with a bunch of 4chan threads he posted toconstantly. I didn't have time to read them, but we should.""Why?" I ask as she loops her backpack over her shoulder and gets to herfeet.

"Because something's weird about all this," Maeve says matter-of-factly,leading me out the door and down the stairs. "Don't you think?""Understatement of the year," I mutter. I stop in the empty stairwell, soshe does too, half turning with a questioning look. "Maeve, how'd you evenget into Simon's admin panel? How did you know where to look?"A small smile tugs at the corners of her mouth. "You're not the only onewho grabs confidential information off computers other people were using."I gape at her. "So you--so Simon was posting About That at school? Andleft it open?"

"Of course not. Simon was smart. He did it here. Not sure if it was a one-time thing or if he posted from the library all the time, but I saw him oneweekend last month when you were running. He didn't see me. I logged into the computer after him and got the address from the browser history. Ididn't do anything with it at first," she says, meeting my incredulous lookwith a calm gaze. "Just put it aside for future reference. I started trying toget in after you came back from the police station. Don't worry," she adds,patting me on the arm. "Not from home. Nobody can trace it.""Okay, but ... why the interest in the app? Before Simon even died?What were you going to do?"

Maeve purses her lips thoughtfully. "I hadn't figured that part out. Ithought maybe I'd start wiping it clean right after he posted, or switch allthe text to Russian. Or dismantle the whole thing."I shift my feet and stumble a little, grabbing the railing for support."Maeve, is this because of what happened freshman year?""No." Maeve's amber eyes get hard. "Bronwyn, you're the one who stillthinks about that. Not me. I just wanted the stupid hold he had over theentire school to stop. And, well"--she lets out a short, humorless laugh thatechoes against the concrete walls of the stairwell--"I guess it did." Shestarts back down the stairs with long strides and pushes hard on the exitwhen she gets to the bottom. I follow her silently, trying to wrap my brainaround the fact that my sister was keeping a secret from me similar to theone I kept from her. And that both of them tie back to Simon.

Maeve gives me a sunny smile when we get outside, as if theconversation we just had never happened. "Bayview Estates is on our wayhome. Should we pick up your forbidden technology?""We could try." I've told Maeve all about Nate, who called this morningto say he'd leave a phone in the mailbox of 5 Bayview Estate Road. It's partof a new development of half-built houses, and the area tends to be desertedon weekends. "I'm not sure how early Nate gets moving on a Saturday,though."

We reach Bayview Estates in less than fifteen minutes, turning into astreet filled with boxy, half-finished houses. Maeve puts a hand on my armas we approach number 5. "Let me go," she says with a forbidding air, eyesdarting around dramatically as though the Bayview Police could descendwith sirens blaring at any minute. "Just in case.""Have at it," I mutter. We're probably too early anyway. It's barelyeleven.

But Maeve returns waving a small black device with a triumphantflourish, laughing when I yank it from her. "Eager much, nerd?" When Ipower it up there's one message, and I open it to a picture of a yellow-brown lizard sitting placidly on a rock in the middle of a large cage. Actuallizard, reads the caption, and I laugh out loud.

"Oh my God," Maeve mutters, peering over my shoulder. "Private jokes.You're soooo into him, aren't you?"

I don't have to answer her. It's a rhetorical question.

Cooper

Saturday, October 6, 9:20 p.m.

By the time I get to Olivia's party, nearly everyone's out of it. Somebody'spuking in the bushes as I push open the front door. I spot Keely huddlednext to the stairs with Olivia, having one of those intense conversationsgirls get into when they're wasted. A few juniors are toking up on thecouch. Vanessa's in a corner trying to paw at Nate, who couldn't look lessinterested as he scans the room behind her. If Vanessa were a guy,somebody would've reported her by now for all the unsolicited groping shedoes. My eyes briefly meet Nate's, and we both look away withoutacknowledging each other.

I finally find Jake on the patio with Luis, who's headed inside for moredrinks. "Whaddya want?" Luis asks, clapping me on the shoulder.

"Whatever you're getting." I take a seat next to Jake, who's listingsideways in his chair.

"Whassup, killer?" he slurs, and sputters out a laugh. "Are you gettingtired of murder jokes yet? 'Cause I'm not."

I'm surprised Jake is this drunk; he usually holds back during footballseason. But I guess his week's been almost as bad as mine. That's what Icame to talk to him about, although as I watch him swat hazily at a bug, I'mnot sure I should bother.

I try anyway. "How're you doing? Been a lousy few days, huh?"Jake laughs again, but this time not as though he finds anything funny."That's so Cooper of you, man. Don't talk about your shit week, just checkin on mine. You're a goddamn saint, Coop. You really are."The edge in his voice warns me I shouldn't take the bait, but I do. "Youmad at me for something, Jake?"

"Why would I be? It's not like you're defending my whore ex-girlfriendto anybody who'll listen. Oh, wait. That's exactly what you're doing."Jake narrows his eyes at me, and I realize I can't have the conversation Icame to have. He's in no frame of mind to talk about easing up on Addy atschool. "Jake, I know Addy's in the wrong. Everybody knows it. She madea stupid mistake."

"Cheating isn't a mistake. It's a choice," Jake says furiously, and for asecond he sounds stone-cold sober. He drops his empty beer bottle on theground and cocks his head with an accusing glare. "Where the hell is Luis?Hey." He grabs the arm of a passing sophomore and plucks an unopenedbeer out of his hand, twisting the cap off and taking a long sip. "What was Isaying? Oh yeah. Cheating. That's a choice, Coop. You know, my momcheated on my dad when I was in junior high. Screwed up our wholefamily. Threw a grenade right in the middle and--" He flings an arm,spilling half his beer, and makes a whoosh sound. "Everything exploded.""I didn't know that." I'd met Jake when I moved to Bayview in eighthgrade, but we didn't start hanging out till high school. "Sorry, man. Thatmakes it even worse, huh?"

Jake shakes his head, eyes glittering. "Addy has no clue what she's done.Ruined everything."

"But your dad ... forgave your mom, right? They're still together?" It's astupid question. I was at his house a month ago for a cookout before all thisstarted. His dad was grilling hamburgers and his mom was talking to Addyand Keely about a new manicure place that opened in Bayview Center. Likenormal. Like always.

"Yeah, they're together. Nothing's the same, though. It's never been thesame." Jake's staring in front of him with such disgust that I don't knowwhat to say. I feel like a jerk for telling Addy she should come, and I'mglad she didn't listen to me.

Luis returns and hands us both a beer. "You going to Simon'stomorrow?" he asks Jake.

I think I can't possibly have heard Luis right, but Jake says, "I guess."Luis catches my confused look. "His mom asked a bunch of us to comeover and, like, take something to remember him by before they pack hisstuff. Creeps me out since I barely knew the guy, but she seems to think wewere friends so what can you say, right?" He takes a sip of his beer andcocks an eyebrow at me. "Guess you're not invited?""Nope," I say, feeling a little sick. The last thing I want to do is pickthrough Simon's things in front of his grieving parents, but if all my friendsare going, the slight's pretty clear. I'm under suspicion, and not welcome."Simon, man." Jake shakes his head solemnly. "He was freakingbrilliant." He holds his beer up and for a second I think he's going to pour itonto the patio in a homeboy salute, but he refrains and drinks it instead.Olivia joins us, wrapping one arm around Luis's waist. Guess those twoare back on again. She pokes me with her free hand and holds up her phone,her face bright with that excited look she gets when she's about to share agreat piece of gossip. "Cooper, did you know you're in the BayviewBlade?"

The way she says it, I'm pretty sure they're not covering baseball. Thisnight keeps getting better. "Had no idea."

"Sunday edition, online tonight. All about Simon. They're not ...accusing you, exactly, but the four of you are named as persons of interest,and they mention that stuff Simon was gonna post about you. There'repictures of you all. And, um, it's been shared a few hundred times already.So." Olivia hands me her phone. "It's out there now, I guess."