PRINCIPAL GUPTA: It seemed implied. We are, of course, devastated at the loss of a cherished member of our tight-knit community, and committed to supporting our students in their time of need. We have many resources available to help them process their shock and grief.
REPORTER: Bayview High is a school that became infamous nationwide for its corrosive culture of gossip. Are you concerned that—
PRINCIPAL GUPTA: Excuse me. We’re veering onto a topic that’s unrelated to the subject at hand, not to mention quite unnecessary. Bayview High is a different school today than it was eighteen months ago. Our zero-tolerance policy toward gossip and bullying has proven highly effective. We were even profiled in Education Today Magazine last summer.
REPORTER: I’m not familiar with that.
PRINCIPAL GUPTA: It’s very highly regarded.
CHAPTER NINE
Knox
Monday, March 2
It’s a reflex to check my phone, even at work. But there’s nothing new from Unknown on Monday. The last texts were from Friday night:
DARE: Kiss a member of the Bayview Four.
STATUS: Achieved by Jules Crandall. Congratulations, Jules. Nice work. Accompanied by a picture of Jules on Nate’s lap, kissing him as though her life depended on staying attached to his face.
The next player will be contacted soon. Tick-tock.
I’m kind of glad I had rehearsal and couldn’t make it to Café Contigo on Friday. Maeve said the night went downhill fast after Jules interrupted dinner. Plus, the whole restaurant turned into such a mob scene that they ran out of food and Cooper had to leave through the back entrance.
“In this particular instance, the contributing cause is false confession,” Sandeep says beside me. We’re sharing a desk today at Until Proven, and he’s been on the phone nonstop since I arrived. He holds a pen in one hand, tapping it rhythmically on the desk while he talks. “So I don’t see that it applies. What? No. Homicide-related.” He waits a few beats, pen tapping. “I can’t confirm that yet. I’ll call you back when I can. All right.” He hangs up. Until Proven still has desk phones—big, clunky things with actual cords plugged into the wall. “Knox, can you order some pizza?” Sandeep asks, rolling his shoulders. “I’m starving.”
“Sure.” I pick up my iPhone, because I don’t even know how to work the desk ones, then put it back down when Eli materializes in front of us. He looks different, but I can’t figure out why until Sandeep speaks up.
“You cut your hair,” he says. Eli shrugs as Sandeep leans back in his chair and spins in a semicircle, his fingers steepling beneath his chin. “What’s up? You never cut your hair.”
“I assure you that I do,” Eli says, pushing his glasses up on his nose. He looks a lot less like Einstein now. “Do you have the Henson file?”
“Is this a wedding thing?” Sandeep asks. “Did Ashton make you?”
Eli rubs his temple like he’s trying to draw out some patience. “Ashton and I don’t make one another do anything. Do you have the Henson file or not?”
“Um.” Sandeep starts sifting through the piles on his desk. “Probably. It’s here somewhere. What do you need?”
“The name of the convicting DA.”
“I have it,” I say, and they both turn toward me. “Not the file, but the name. I made a spreadsheet. Hang on.” I pull up Google Docs and tilt my laptop toward Eli. “It has all the basic background information on the D’Agostino convictions. Names, dates, addresses, lawyers, things like that. I noticed you keep asking for that stuff, so…” I trail off as a crease appears on Eli’s forehead. Was I not supposed to do this, maybe? It’s all publicly available information, so I didn’t think I was doing anything wrong by putting it into one document.
Eli’s gaze roves across my screen. “This is great. Can you share it with me, please?”
“Um, yeah. Of course,” I say.
He meets my eyes. “What’s your name, again?”
“Knox. Knox Myers.” I smile a little too widely, happy to be noticed for once.
“Thanks, Knox,” Eli says sincerely. “You just saved me a lot of time.”
“Eli!” Somebody yells from across the room. “Judge Balewa on line one for you!” Eli takes off without another word as Sandeep punches me lightly in the arm.
“Look at you, getting praise from the big man! Nice job, kid,” he says. “Don’t let it go to your head, though. I still want that pizza. And could you sort the mail?”