When we finally stopped, I smelled French fries. My legs wobbled and my ears thrummed, but I was alive in the parking lot of a diner.

Reece stepped over the bike, unhooked my helmet, lifted it off my head, then laughed.

"What's so funny?" I smoothed back the static fly-aways.

"Nothing. You did great. It's just a little helmet-hair." His own hair fell around his face in effortless, orderly chaos.

"I thought we were going to study."

"We are."

Reece freed his backpack from the bungee cord behind the seat and I followed him into the restaurant. A waitress led us to a quiet, high-backed booth in the back.

I waited until he was engrossed in his menu before I set mine aside.

"What's the matter? You're not hungry?"

"No." My stomach growled and I wrapped my arms around it to stifle the sound.

"Order whatever you want." He pushed the menu back at me with a smirk. "Consider it payback for scaring the crap out of you."

"I wasn't scared," I lied.

The waitress returned with two sweating water glasses, and took our orders. As she cleared the menus, Reece took out his chemistry book and set it on the table between us.

I raised a brow. "You remembered your book?"

"Maybe I'm not as stupid as I look." The crease between his eyes was real and made me feel small. I pulled the book closer.

"Sorry, I'm just surprised."

"Why?"

"No reason." I bit my lip. This conversation was treading on dangerous water. Lieutenant Nicholson was already suspicious of me. If Reece figured out that I knew he was a narc-using me to get close enough to feed information to Nicholson-it wouldn't look good. But my curiosity was getting the better of me. "I don't know many juniors that haven't taken basic chemistry."

He turned his glass in lazy circles, slowly enough that I could study the tattoo on his arm. The leaves of some bristly plant climbed up his skin. "I already told you, I spent some time in the system. Missed a few classes."

The waitress arrived, balancing two large plates and a basket of fries. Reece slammed the book shut as she set the food on the table between us, his interest in studying overshadowed by a mountain of patties with melted cheese. I supposed in this way he was like every other normal high school guy. My stomach growled again and I scarfed down a handful of fries, scalding my tongue and making my eyes water. I'd had trouble eating since Friday night, and that hollow feeling had finally caught up with me.

Reece watched with a curious smile and I almost shrank under the table.

"Guess I was hungrier than I thought." I hoped I didn't have ketchup on my chin and I was desperate for a subject change, anything to take the focus off me. "So, what were you in the system for?"

His eyes drifted down to his own plate. "Nothing I'm proud of."

"Assault and battery" rippled in my memory. I wondered how many times he'd been locked up, and for how long? Looking at his face, it was hard to guess his age. The shadow of his beard was dark and full, broken by a faint white line where an old scar cut across his chin. He was at least as old I was. Maybe older. But basic chemistry was freshman year curriculum. Sophomore year for the really slow kids. He must have missed at least a year of school. He was hard, but there was nothing slow about him.

"Why didn't you go back to your old school?" I asked.

He chewed more slowly, thoughtfully. I got the distinct impression he was stalling, weighing his words. "Got kicked out of North Hampton. They wouldn't let me back in, so I got sent to West River."

"Sent by who? Your parents?"

Reece's brow furrowed. "Parole officer."

Nicholson had said Reece was involved in a shooting, but a shooting was bad. Very bad. And yet they let him free. Something didn't add up. "If they let you out of juvie, it couldn't have been that bad, could it?" I kept prodding. I don't know why I needed to hear him say it. That Anh was wrong and he hadn't done anything too terrible. After all, the charges were only assault. Assault wasn't the same as manslaughter. "I mean . . . it's not like you killed someone, right?"

Reece didn't answer.

The hamburger gelled in my throat. No, he was probably just trying to screw with me. The cops never would have sent a known killer to follow me around . . . unless maybe they knew as little about Reece Whelan as I did.

I shoved my plate aside, my appetite gone, and reached for his textbook. "Aren't we supposed to be studying or something?" I flipped the pages clumsily. The spine gaped where chapter one had been ripped out. I buried my head in my hands. "We're not going to get very far-"

"Relax." Reece pulled the missing pages from the pocket of his jacket and smoothed them across the table. The edges of the periodic table were curled and webbed with crinkle marks.