‌“That’s a lot to process,” Ellie says when Brynn finishes telling us about Mason.‌

“Understatement of the century,” I add. My eyes stray toward the middle of the gymnasium, where Mason is slow dancing with his head on Geoff’s shoulder. All his exuberance from earlier is gone, which makes me feel like shit for being the one to set everything in motion by noticing the green residue on his palm.

Even then, though, I didn’t necessarily think he’d turn out to be Mr. Larkin’s secret brother. The whole time Brynn was talking to him in the auditorium, I wondered if maybe he just didn’t like the guy. Or he messed up the poster on a dare.

“You guys can’t say anything,” Brynn warns. “I promised we wouldn’t.” She bites her lip, darting a glance at me. “And Charlotte promised she wouldn’t. I hope she meant it.”

“If she said it, she meant it,” I say. Brynn arches a skeptical brow, and I add, “Look, I know Charlotte isn’t the friendliest, but her word is good.

She’s never let me down. She didn’t break our pact in the woods, even when I accidentally framed her for theft.”

“Did you ever tell her that was you?” Ellie asks.

“Oh, hell no,” I say, so quickly that she snorts out a laugh. “I wouldn’t either,” she says. “She’s kind of terrifying.”

Brynn crosses her arms. “So we’re back to square one, with no idea who killed Mr. Larkin. It wasn’t Mason, it wasn’t Mr. Solomon, and it probably wasn’t Shane, because he doesn’t have a motive anymore.” She offers me a half smile. “It wasn’t you—”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” I say.

“And it wasn’t your dad. So who’s left? Dexter, I suppose, or—”

“Maybe this is your cue to take a break, Brynn,” Ellie interrupts. “Spend a small portion of the Winter Dance actually dancing. Revolutionary concept, I know, but you could try it.”

“I danced with Geoff, and look where that got us,” Brynn mutters.

“You should probably stick to me,” I say, and hold out my hand, but before Brynn can take it, somebody half tackles me from behind. “What the

—” I get out before I realize it’s Shane’s arm locked around my shoulders. “T,” he slurs, dragging me toward the lacrosse corner. “Barely seen

you all night. You mad at me? I didn’t mean to get in your face at Charlotte’s. I’m just stressed, you know?”

“I know,” I say. “We’re good.” I let him lead me away, because maybe this is Shane’s way of saying he needs to talk. “Everything okay?” I ask.

“Me and Charlotte broke up.” Shane pauses midstep, one arm still slung around my neck. “She went home, and I feel bad but…also kinda relieved, you know?”

“I know,” I say. I can’t blame the guy for wanting to be single for once in his teenage life. Or maybe date somebody he didn’t discover a body with. “She’ll be okay.”

“S’better this way. Fresh start.” “Yeah. You guys could use that.”

“It’s just…everything got so messed up that day in the woods. And you said we can’t talk about it, because that’s the rule, right? It’s like Fight

Club, except we’re not Fight Club. We’re the Dead Body Club.” Shane exhales a long, whiskey-soaked breath. “Thassa a bad name.”

“I’m sorry, Shane. I didn’t mean…” I didn’t mean to muzzle you. I just didn’t want my dad exposed as a murderer. “Is there something you want to talk about?”

“Maybe I should’ve said something about the fight,” he says. “Cuz, like, what if that was important? I didn’t say anything, and now fucking Gunnar Fox is all—” He waves an arm, almost toppling us over.

“What fight?” I ask, righting him.

“The one I heard in the woods. I never told the police.”

Here it is: the perfect opportunity to ask Shane what he heard. I know Brynn said not to open Pandora’s box, but Shane is already crawling halfway out, and I have to admit—I want to know. “What about it?” I ask. “Was it…Did you actually hear Mr. Larkin?”

“Yeah,” Shane says. “He was yelling at somebody about the class-trip money.”

I gape at him, dumbfounded. The class-trip money. That’s exactly what I was afraid Shane was going to say four years ago, because I thought Mr. Larkin had been arguing with my father. But now I know he wasn’t, so who the hell else would fight with Mr. Larkin about that? Probably not Dexter Robbins, for one thing. “What did he say?” I ask.

“I couldn’t hear everything,” Shane says. “I didn’t wanna get too close. But then the yelling stopped and I saw somebody walking away, and…it wasn’t Mr. Larkin.”

“Did you see who it was?” I ask.

“I think so. I mean, I was kind of far off, but I’m pretty sure I recognized him.”

“Who?” I ask.

Then I realize I should stop him and go get Brynn, because she’s definitely going to want to hear this. Before I can, though, Shane says, “Nick Gallagher.”

My heart stutters, then seems to almost stop. “What?” I ask, just as I hear a loud gasp behind me. I turn and—

I don’t have to get Brynn. She’s right there.

Her eyes are enormous in her pale face. Before I can say a word, she spins on her heel and takes off, pushing her way through the crowd. “Brynn, wait!” I call, starting after her. But Shane is still draped all over me, holding me back. I catch sight of Ellie a few feet away, looking quizzical enough that I’m pretty sure she didn’t overhear anything.

“Whoops,” Shane says. “I can’t do anything right tonight, can I? I need a drink. C’mon, you do too.” He tries to steer me toward the lacrosse corner.

“Dude, not now,” I say, pulling away. But by the time I manage to break free, Brynn is nowhere in sight. Ellie is weaving through the crowded dance floor, craning her neck as she looks for her sister.

I can’t wrap my head around what Shane just told me. When Brynn asked, “Who’s left?” on the list of suspects in Mr. Larkin’s murder, I sure as hell wouldn’t have said your uncle. I gave her a hard time at Brightside Bakery about his alibi, sure, but that was only to prove the point that anybody from Saint Ambrose could’ve been in the woods that day. I never actually thought Nick Gallagher was, or that he had any reason to hurt Mr. Larkin. And why would they have fought about the class-trip money? Nick didn’t take that; my mother did.

None of this makes sense. I need to find Brynn and sober Shane up, somehow, and then…I don’t know. I’ll figure out the rest later.

I push my way toward the center of the gymnasium and see that Ellie is already almost at the exit. When she reaches the doorway, she pauses, looking both ways. Then a figure crowds in behind her, blocking her from my view. Whoever it is glances over their shoulder, and—

“No,” I say out loud, stopping short. Even from a distance I recognize the face, and it’s completely out of context.

You shouldn’t be here. What are you doing?

But there’s no time to ask questions. Ellie is in the hallway now. She turns right, probably headed outside to look for Brynn. I pick up my pace to try to get to her through this crowd, because the person who shouldn’t be here is right on her heels.