But she wasn’t all about herself.” I think of Jenny sobbing in the hallway. “She was a good friend.” I think of Ellis. “People loved her. Her mom loved her. And she loved them back. Sometimes too much, and she got hurt. And nowsomeone’s”—I can’t say it—“and you’re acting like she’s some idiot who was in the park to score drugs and got what she deserved.”
There’s a long pause. Then Stella says, “You really care about this girl.”
Not enough, I think, when it mattered. “Everybody screws up, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know,” says Stella. “We all have our crazy years. Lord knows I had mine.”
Her voice is wistful. In the quiet, I like her.
Then she asks, “Seriously. Can you tell me what Wendy was doing in the park?”
“I can’t. I wish I knew.”
There’s another pause. “I have another question for you, but I need to know you can keep a secret. Can you?”
My heart leaps. They know who killed Wendy. Stella’s going to tell me. “Sure.”
“Does
E
mean anything to you?”
“
E
,” I repeat, confused.
E
is not a name.
E
is not …
Then in a flash, I see Sasha’s hand as she brushes her hair, the
E
, gold and black, on her finger.
Answer a question with a question. “Why?”
I hear a sigh. Not giving up, deciding. “Look. I’m going to let you in on something the rest of the city isn’t going to know for a few days. That’s a big deal in my world.”
“Mine too,” I say. “I’m in high school.”
A short laugh. “So, you understand what I’m saying. Sometimes I go drinking with a guy who works as a guard in an evidence room. You know what that is?”
Remembering my mom’s
Law & Order
obsession, I say, “Where cops store the evidence in an investigation?”
“Right. And he happens to work the precinct that’s handling this particular case. They logged an item they found at the scene. But they’re not telling anyone about it.”
“Why not?”
“Who knows? A lot of the time, they hold back a piece of evidence to weed out fake suspects, people who might lie and say they killed Wendy just for kicks.”
“Was it a pin or—”
“No details. What I want to know is, did it belong to Wendy?”
No, I think. No, no, no. Wendy was not the kind of girl to get an E. Ever.
Which means …
It belongs to Wendy’s killer.
Stella presses. “Come on, Rain. If it’s not Wendy’s, whose is it? Who is E, Rain?”
Not who, I think, what. But I’m not telling Stella that.
Wendy’s killer is not some random crazy person. He’s someone I’ve passed in the halls. Someone I’ve spoken to.
I know Wendy’s killer.
DAY FOUR
The next morning, I get to school early. I walk through the quiet halls, passing through the strips of sunlight that beam in from the windows. It is very precise light. One step, sun, warmth. Next step, dark, chill.
Last night, I reminded myself that an E pin near Wendy doesn’t actually prove someone from school killed her. Some kid could have dropped it walking home. It could have been there for months.
Girlfriends and boyfriends give each other E pins. Ellis could have one. Maybe he gave it to Wendy and didn’t ask for it back. She was wearing it the night she was killed, and it got pulled off in the struggle.
Then I remembered that Mr. Dorland once said that there are fewer than five hundred E pins in the whole world. The school only gives out four a year. People take them seriously. They don’t tend to lose them. And even if Ellis did give her a pin, Wendy would have given it back the second she broke up with him. There’s no way she would have kept it.
Which means there aren’t a million reasons the pin could have been there. Not thousands of people who could have left it near Wendy’s body. There aren’t even a hundred.
There’s only one. The person who killed her.
But would Nico have had an E pin?
It seems highly unlikely. He’s been a slacker ever since he got to Alcott. But Oliver Travers was also a
There’s a long pause. Then Stella says, “You really care about this girl.”
Not enough, I think, when it mattered. “Everybody screws up, you know?”
“Yeah, I do know,” says Stella. “We all have our crazy years. Lord knows I had mine.”
Her voice is wistful. In the quiet, I like her.
Then she asks, “Seriously. Can you tell me what Wendy was doing in the park?”
“I can’t. I wish I knew.”
There’s another pause. “I have another question for you, but I need to know you can keep a secret. Can you?”
My heart leaps. They know who killed Wendy. Stella’s going to tell me. “Sure.”
“Does
E
mean anything to you?”
“
E
,” I repeat, confused.
E
is not a name.
E
is not …
Then in a flash, I see Sasha’s hand as she brushes her hair, the
E
, gold and black, on her finger.
Answer a question with a question. “Why?”
I hear a sigh. Not giving up, deciding. “Look. I’m going to let you in on something the rest of the city isn’t going to know for a few days. That’s a big deal in my world.”
“Mine too,” I say. “I’m in high school.”
A short laugh. “So, you understand what I’m saying. Sometimes I go drinking with a guy who works as a guard in an evidence room. You know what that is?”
Remembering my mom’s
Law & Order
obsession, I say, “Where cops store the evidence in an investigation?”
“Right. And he happens to work the precinct that’s handling this particular case. They logged an item they found at the scene. But they’re not telling anyone about it.”
“Why not?”
“Who knows? A lot of the time, they hold back a piece of evidence to weed out fake suspects, people who might lie and say they killed Wendy just for kicks.”
“Was it a pin or—”
“No details. What I want to know is, did it belong to Wendy?”
No, I think. No, no, no. Wendy was not the kind of girl to get an E. Ever.
Which means …
It belongs to Wendy’s killer.
Stella presses. “Come on, Rain. If it’s not Wendy’s, whose is it? Who is E, Rain?”
Not who, I think, what. But I’m not telling Stella that.
Wendy’s killer is not some random crazy person. He’s someone I’ve passed in the halls. Someone I’ve spoken to.
I know Wendy’s killer.
DAY FOUR
The next morning, I get to school early. I walk through the quiet halls, passing through the strips of sunlight that beam in from the windows. It is very precise light. One step, sun, warmth. Next step, dark, chill.
Last night, I reminded myself that an E pin near Wendy doesn’t actually prove someone from school killed her. Some kid could have dropped it walking home. It could have been there for months.
Girlfriends and boyfriends give each other E pins. Ellis could have one. Maybe he gave it to Wendy and didn’t ask for it back. She was wearing it the night she was killed, and it got pulled off in the struggle.
Then I remembered that Mr. Dorland once said that there are fewer than five hundred E pins in the whole world. The school only gives out four a year. People take them seriously. They don’t tend to lose them. And even if Ellis did give her a pin, Wendy would have given it back the second she broke up with him. There’s no way she would have kept it.
Which means there aren’t a million reasons the pin could have been there. Not thousands of people who could have left it near Wendy’s body. There aren’t even a hundred.
There’s only one. The person who killed her.
But would Nico have had an E pin?
It seems highly unlikely. He’s been a slacker ever since he got to Alcott. But Oliver Travers was also a
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