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“Just saying.”

“What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What time did you go to bed?”

“I went to bed at eleven.”

“You went to bed before I did.”

“I went to mybedroombefore you.”

“What were you doing?”

“In my…bedroom?” I hate that this makes me blush and I double hate that Dylan sees it. “What do you think? I did some yearbook stuff, listened to some music, turned out my light at eleven. Like I said.”

My mind hooks on what’s probably an irrelevant detail. It’s like that. It can’t help itself. “You’redoing yearbook?” I’d be less surprised if he’d announced he’s marrying his biology teacher. Dylan looks…cagey.

“Are we going to talk about murder or yearbook?”

“How can I possibly solve the Mystery of GG’s Death when the Mystery of Why Dylan Is Doing Yearbook is right here in front of me?”

“You’re getting weirder.”

“Just tell me why.”

“I’m community minded.”

“Are you, though?”

“I love my school?”

“Do you?”

He makes a sound like a bicycle puncture and I know I’ve got him. “Okay, I’m helping a friend.”

“Who?” Then I get it. “Lisa.”

“Yeah.”

“So, you’re doing your girlfriend’s homework? That makes so much more sense.”

“It’s not like that.” But the flush in Dylan’s cheeks tells me it kind of is like that.

“I’m just glad you guys are okay.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. What do you mean you’re glad we’re okay? Why wouldn’t we be okay?”

This is the moment I should stop. I could make a joke and change the subject. But I’ve never been good at keeping out of other people’s business. I have a bad feeling this is going to be like that time Ali was missing twenty dollars from her locker, and then our friend Shannon (who is no longer our friend Shannon) had money for the cafeteria even though she never has money on a Tuesday, because she gets paid for her deli job on Thursdays, and all I did wasmentionit to Ali, and thenboom,and, really, couldn’t I have let it go?

I’ve learned nothing because I say, “I just noticed some guy on her socials, and I wasn’t sure.”

“What guy?”