“Why would people say that?” I ask. Specifically, why would Zoey, a girl no one here really knows, say that?
“Zoey is always trying to stir up problems. She even talks about her teachers. She said she researched a bunch of them before she moved here. Ms. Helton. Principal Bowles. Coach Gabe. She thinks it makes her look cool to know stuff about people. I think it’s not right.”
Students don’t typically take such an interest in their teachers. They don’t collect their secrets. Zoey likely wants to learn about people so she can use the information against them. Not right, indeed.
“Now she’s talking about me. People think I hurt Darcy because she is my girlfriend. Was my girlfriend.” He pauses. “She broke up with me after what happened. But we were together the night of the dance.”
“Darcy might need space now,” I say, feeling the need to defend her.
“I know that,” he says, still looking down. “I don’t blame Darcy for ending things. She knows I would never hurt her, but people around here are so simple-minded. They think I attacked her because we got into a fight at the party.” He stops talking, clenches his fists and looks away. “I wish I knew who hurt her. Because if I did, I’d go after him. I’d hurt him like he hurt her.”
“Don’t say that, Adam.” I understand his desire to get even. Who wouldn’t want to hurt the person responsible for injuring the person they loved?
“I didn’t hurt Darcy,” he continues, as though he didn’t hear anything I said. “But I blame myself. She made me mad and I left the party. If I’d stayed, she would have never been attacked.”
“Don’t think that way. Whatever happened to Darcy… you didn’t cause it.”
“Well, everyone thinks I did. And they won’t leave me alone about it. They’re leaving stupid letters in my locker, sending me messages, whispering stuff under their breath in class—”
“You should talk to Ms. Pam. She’s the best at dealing with school issues like this.”
“It’s not just at school,” he says, slamming his fist against a locker. He realizes he’s startled me and takes a calming breath. He moves closer and whispers, “I think someone killed my cat.”
I pause, lean back to get a better look at the frazzled teenager in front of me. His eyes are wild, and his skin is red from crying, but he looks wholly convinced—even scared—by what he just said.
“Why do you think that?”
“Well, the cat’s dead, for starters. I found her by the road in front of my house. But it doesn’t make sense. Tabs—that was her name—never walked to the road. She hardly ever left the porch. Besides, I live in the country. We rarely have cars pass the house, and when they do, they’re not going so fast they can’t see a cat.”
“Are you sure it’s not a coincidence?” I hate that I’m even asking the question. I’m now treating Adam the same way I’ve been treated in the past. Like I’m trying too hard to make events seem connected.
“I knew when I found Tabs it wasn’t an accident. The next morning, I found a rock behind my car. And there was a… slur written on it.”
“What did it say?”
He looks away from me, then at the ground, ashamed of what he says next. “It said… well, it’s a word for a cat but can also be used to describes a girl’s—”
“I get it,” I say, raising my hands to stop him.
The red in his cheeks deepen. “Interesting choice of words considering my cat just died, huh? People are messing with me because they think I hurt Darcy.”
I no longer feel right in telling Adam he is wrong. That he is being paranoid or emotional. Based on what he said, I believe him.
“You need to tell Ms. Pam about this,” I say. “All of it.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Mayfair,” he says, smoothing his forehead. “I’m sorry for causing a scene in there.”
“Go eat lunch,” I say. “Stay away from trouble.”
He nods, opens the door and leaves the hallway. I walk back to my classroom, my appetite gone. I can’t tell Adam I believe he really did leave the party that night, unaware of the dangerous predicament Darcy was left in. I can’t tell him I think he’s right about his cat, that someone really would be cruel enough to harm his pet in hopes of teaching him a lesson. And I can’t tell him I think I know who that person might be.
I’m worried for him. I’m also worried about what Zoey may have unearthed. If she’s digging up dirt on her teachers, what might she have found about me?
Thirteen
Now
This isn’t the first time I’ve been concerned Zoey might know about my past. It started when she mentioned Florida. If what Adam says is true—that Zoey is looking into the lives of her teachers—then she must know about Brian. The average person may not identify me as Brian’s sister, but anyone digging could find out.
I’m staring at the computer screen, seeing nothing. My mind has been pulled in a dozen directions this week. The tiniest occurrence gets me thinking about Darcy, which gets me thinking about Brian. Once I go down that path, my brain might as well be stuck in 2006. Now I’m bothered by what Zoey might know, too. A shift of light pulls my attention to the left, and I see Melanie is standing by my computer.
“What?” I ask, harsher than I should.
“I asked, where do you want me to put this?” She must have been standing there a second. All while her loopy English teacher stares blankly ahead. Now she has my attention, and she’s still looking at me, waiting for an answer.
“I’m sorry, Melanie,” I say, clearing my throat. “I’m zoning out
