I'd never noticed how smooth her olive-colored skin was until I stood right next to her. She was prettier than I'd given her credit for. Exotic even.

"Um, yeah," was the only response I could manage.

"Just watch yourself around him. You know what everyone says about the drug money." She affected an awed whisper for the words "drug" and "money."

"Didn't stop you from throwing yourself at him," I said before I could stop myself. Geez, Kate, jealous much?

Beefany froze in her tracks and spun around to stare directly into my eyes.

"Liam Gilmour is off limits. You don't know anything about him, Cade. And trust me when I say it's safer for you that way."

She didn't bother to wait for a response. She turned around, straightened her shoulders, and began walking, her black waves rippling with each step. As we turned the corner, we ran directly into Liam, who had obviously heard Beefany's words echo through the empty hallway.

I glanced at Beefany, curious to see how she'd respond after seeing him, but his presence didn't seem to faze her. I guess girls like Beefany didn't know that embarra.s.sment was an actual emotion.

"Well, am I right or am I right? You are off limits." He went to open his mouth, but Beefany pushed her finger to his lips. "We should talk." Her sharp brown eyes seared into mine, but she addressed Liam "in private."

I tried to gauge his reaction to Beefany's demand. For someone who claimed to hate the Beefster and her queen, he agreed rather readily, and I was again left completely confused. What kind of hold did she have over him? Did they have some kind of history together?

They walked toward a nook in the hallway, and again Beefany hissed something into his ear, her arm snaked around his waist. At that moment, he seemed so submissive, so unlike the Liam Gilmour I thought I was getting to know.

Our "date" at Starbucks seemed like a figment of my imagination, our moment in the hall a fake. Taylor had probably put Beefany up to it as an experimental form of torture. I could imagine her whispering, "Let's see if we can get Kate to think a guy actually likes her. It'll be hilarious."

As soon as they finished talking, Liam gave me one of his patented boy nods and walked away. I had been dismissed. I hated when people, especially guys, made me feel that way. Every time it happened, I remembered that night with Bradley and my own stupidity.

Beefany walked back over to me. "No hard feelings," she chirped in the same nails-on-a-chalkboard voice she'd used at the Concilium meeting. Considering that she had the staple gun pointed directly at my chest, her comment felt more like an order than an apology.

I briefly considered making a grab for the gun to put myself out of my misery, but in the end I just nodded and followed along. Sometimes life was easier that way.

Chapter 22.

I paused in front of the doorway to Station 5, the student detention room, or more accurately, h.e.l.l. In huge letters, Abyssus abyssum invocat hung over the door. "h.e.l.l invokes h.e.l.l."

Happy Tuesday.

I yawned for the thousandth time since stumbling out of bed, cursing the administration for implementing morning detention. Starting your day in the dark was wrong on so many different levels, although I guess that was their whole point. That or they couldn't risk detention interfering with after-school sports. Ah, priorities.

Today I spent my entire forty-five minutes alternating between staring at the second hand of the clock and watching a pool of drool expand on Porter's now tattered copy of On the Road. Did I mention he and I were the only two in the room? Well, three if you counted Mr. McAdams, my ancient World History teacher. I wondered how Headmaster Sinclair had managed to rope Mr. McAdams into morning-detention duty. He was probably on probation or something. Brutal.

Finally the morning bell rang, rousing Porter from his slumber and forcing Mr. McAdams to lower the newspaper he was reading.

"Get out of here," he mumbled. "It's just you and me tomorrow, Kate."

There had to be a law against that. I'd have to ask my dad.

Before I'd finished gathering my books, the door opened. Mr. Farrow, voted number-one DILF three years running by the fourth-year girls, current CEO of Farrow Developers and president of the Pemberly Brown Academy Board, made his way in. Now this was getting interesting.

"John McAdams?" Mr. Farrow asked. "Clayton Farrow." He walked forward with his hand outstretched. "The princ.i.p.al sent me to find you. My daughter, Naomi, has you for history."

As they shook hands, Mr. Farrow's eyes wandered and landed directly on me.

"Ah, yes, Naomi," Mr. McAdams said. "I received the email about her being out this week. I'll meet you in the office with her a.s.signments."

Mr. Farrow smiled, exposing two rows of straight, white teeth. "Great. I'll be down in a few minutes. I just need to grab some books from her locker."

As I attempted to sneak out of the cla.s.sroom, I felt a strong hand on my shoulder. "We've missed you at the matches, Kate."

Mr. Farrow's eyes bore down on me, and for one ridiculous second I felt like he was reading my mind. Maybe that was one of the skills they taught at Harvard Business School. "I miss it too." I flashed him a rueful smile. It was the truth.

"Do you mind showing me the way to Naomi's locker?"

My eyes widened a bit, and I had the sudden urge to shout, Ding, ding, ding! My mind flashed back to Grace's email: The truth is with the benefactor. Not only did I have the opportunity to ask Mr. Farrow some questions, but I'd also get a glimpse inside Naomi's locker. This had to be a sign from Grace.

"No problem, Mr. Farrow. Just follow me."

We made our way down the hallway and saw a few students arriving at their lockers to gather books for first period.

"Is everything okay with Naomi?" I asked, unsure how to begin my interrogation.

"Oh, yeah, absolutely fine." He looked around the halls. "Can you keep a secret?"

I nodded my head. Not bad. Ten seconds of conversation, and Mr. Farrow was already telling me secrets.

"Naomi's actually attending Chris Evert's tennis camp, which starts tomorrow. We were able to get her in at the last minute, but with my being on the board, it wasn't the best reason to miss three days of school. So we went with tonsillitis instead."

I smiled and tried not to look disappointed. Did I really think he was going to tell me that Naomi stayed home from school because she felt guilty about her involvement in Grace's death?

"Oh, good. Glad to hear she's okay." I searched my mind for a way to get him talking about Grace, anything aside from tennis camp.

"Has the board made any decisions about further memorials for Grace?" I tried to ask casually, but when Mr. Farrow's features softened, I knew I'd failed miserably. I needed information, not pity.

"It's got to be tough for you, Kate. I forget how close you and Grace were." He hesitated a minute and again looked around the halls as if he wanted to make sure we weren't overheard. "The truth is, we're going to rebuild the chapel as a memorial for Grace, and the Farrow family has decided to donate the funds. This is just between you and me. The official announcement won't come from the board for another few weeks, but you deserve to hear it first."

I wasn't sure how to react to the news. On one hand it was generous, but on the other it seemed calculated somehow. As if the Farrow family was paying some kind of debt.

"Wow...that's just...wow," I managed to stammer, articulate as ever.

"I know this is hard for you, Kate. But we all need to move on."

I slowed in front of Naomi's locker and felt grateful for having something to say.

"Here we are!" I said, doing my best cheerleader impression to mask my suspicion.

Mr. Farrow consulted a sc.r.a.p of paper and began turning the combination lock. After a few spins and murmurs he tried to open the locker, but it was still stuck.

His phone began to ring. "Excuse me, Kate. I've got to take this. Do you mind taking over?" He handed me the sc.r.a.p of paper with Naomi's combination scrawled across it.

"Uh, okay. I'll just gather the stuff you'll need." But he'd already made his way toward a quiet corner of the hallway. I looked up to the ceiling, said a quick thank-you to Grace, wherever she was, and got to work.

Ever so casually, I snaked my hand inside the locker trying to find something, anything that could help me decode Grace's email. I found a few energy-bar wrappers, an old piece of gum, and even our tennis-team picture, but nothing about Grace. I had just about given up when I heard the tinkle of something metal hitting the ground at my feet. I scanned the ground and saw the glint of something small and silver.

Good things really do come in small packages. I wound the necklace with the tiny charm of the crest through my fingers and smiled. It was identical to the one Cameron had left me with Grace's invitation. And all the evidence I needed to confront Naomi.

When I heard Mr. Farrow's heavy footsteps, I grabbed Naomi's Chemistry book out of the locker.

"Sorry about that, Kate." He took the book from my hands and bent to pull the rest. "Thanks for all your help." He winked at me and shut the door of the locker.

"No problem, Mr. Farrow," I replied with the same goofy smile stuck on my face. "Tell Naomi to have fun this week."

"Will do. You take care of yourself, okay?"

I nodded and gave the tiny charm in my hand a squeeze.

I wasn't sure who the emails were really coming from, if Grace was still somehow alive or even a ghost. I wasn't even sure if I'd ever hear from her again.

But I did know one thing for certain-someone was looking out for me.

I raised my eyes to the ceiling again and smiled.

Chapter 23.

I grabbed my bag and made my way to the nearest girls bathroom. Once I was safely tucked into one of the stalls, I powered on my phone and called Naomi. She answered on the first ring, sounding worried.

"Kate? Everything all right?"

"Oh, yeah, um...sort of. But I really need to talk to you. I just saw your dad, so I know you're leaving, but do you have time to meet before you go?" I heard the bathroom door open and shut, and some girl who sounded disturbingly like Beefany asking someone else if her shoes made her legs look fat.

"I don't know," Naomi was saying. "I still have to pack, and it's not like you can just ditch school..."

"Come on," I whispered. "It's really important. Plus I have fifteen minutes till first bell."

"Okay, okay. I'll meet you at the tennis courts. I'll tell my mom I want to get one last round of practice in before my flight this afternoon."

"Perfect! I'll see you there."

As promised, Naomi pulled up a few minutes later. I curled my hand into a fist, hiding her charm deep within the folds of my palm.

"Hey," she said, walking toward the weathered bench I sat on.

Naomi wore a pair of low-slung jeans with a pristine white b.u.t.ton-down set off by a chunky, beaded gold necklace and a pair of gold ballet flats. Her outfit probably cost more than my entire wardrobe combined. It was hard to imagine someone who looked this good setting fire to the school chapel.

"Thanks for coming. I'm guessing you didn't tell your mom you were coming to play tennis?" I squeezed my fingers tighter, suddenly nervous.

"Yeah, my mom vetoed that idea. I told her I forgot my lucky tennis dress in the locker room."She plopped down next to me on the bench. "So what's up?"

I opened my hand and showed her the charm. "I found this in your locker." I watched Naomi carefully for her reaction.

Her eyes got a little bigger, and she looked at me and then looked away. "That's weird. I've never seen it before. What were you doing in my locker anyway?"

"Helping your dad get your books for the week," I answered, looking her straight in the eye. "What does it mean, Naomi? I know it has something to do with what happened to Grace."

Naomi made a grab for the charm, but I closed my hand around it again. She wasn't getting off that easily.

"Tell me the truth, and I'll give it back."

"It's not my truth to tell." Naomi reached out her finger and traced the letters "G+C 4 EVA" that were carved into the back of the bench. She finally looked up at me. "If I tell you something about that night, will you give it back to me?"

"Depends."

She looked back down at the ragged-looking heart and the letters trapped inside and sighed. "I saw something the night of the fire. I was supposed to be at the chapel, but I was late, and by the time I got there...it was...." She shook the thought away and looked up at me again. Her striking eyes were desperate, begging me to understand.

"I had no idea Grace was in there. I...I saw someone running away. A boy in jeans with longish dark hair. All I really saw was the back of a Rolling Stones T-shirt. You know, the one with the tongue hanging out? "

"That describes about 90 percent of the boys at our school."

"I know...just...that's all I can say, okay? It's more than I should have said..." She looked around, almost like she expected to get caught.

"So you got an invitation too?" I asked, although I already knew the answer.

"Wait here." She ran back to her car, opened the pa.s.senger-side door, and sat on the seat with her long legs hanging out. Once she found what she was looking for, she rushed back over to me.

"Here," she said, holding out an invitation. It was identical except for the picture. Hers was in the upper right-hand corner. "I hope it helps."

I opened my book bag and pulled Grace's invitation from the pocket. I placed the two side by side, but until I moved them diagonally, the pictures didn't meet. When the two cards touched at the corners, they formed half of the crest. Looking at it now, I couldn't believe I hadn't see that before.

"Is it Grace's?" Naomi whispered.

"Yes." I shuffled the cards together and put them back in the pocket of my bag.

Naomi stared into the woods. "If you tell anyone, I'll lie and say you stole it." The air between us shifted a little. "And trust me, you don't want my friends as your enemies." She pushed back the cuticle of her thumb. "You're close. Probably too close."

"Who else was there that night?"