"And that Jeremy guy I've seen you hanging out with? Is he your type?"

I stood up and reached for my backpack. Watching me was one thing. Involving Jeremy in this was where I drew the line. "We're done."

"Wait, I'm sorry." He reached across the table and grabbed my hand.

My mouth grew dry with thirst and a void opened like a cold pit inside me. Loneliness. He was contrite. Even curious. But mostly, he was alone.

I pulled my hand out from his and eased back into my seat.

After a moment of silent contemplation, he leaned in, elbows resting on the table. "Look. I know we're different. I know you probably don't want to have anything to do with a guy like me. Assuming I can't just erase the parts that don't balance . . . assuming I can't change anything . . . fundamentally-" His eyes locked on mine and held. "How am I supposed to make this work?"

I reached for the pencil. He held the other end a second too long, forcing me to meet his eyes before letting it go. How were we supposed to make this work?

Easy. He pretends to like me. I pretend to let him. He realizes I'm boring-and rigid. The police figure out who killed Marcia and my life goes back to normal. That's it.

I erased the 1.5 in front of the oxygen and the 2 in front of the aluminum, brushing away the eraser dust with my sleeve. "We can't get rid of the unwanted parts of the element-no matter how much we might want to . . " I let my eyes flick back to his. "But we can build up both sides until they balance each other. Try multiplying the entire equation by two."

I was surprised when he took the pencil and followed my directions. He scratched out a few numbers, laying down the pencil and turning the notebook in a slow circle toward me. "So . . . if a wayward element is willing to give twice as much of himself, he might have a shot?"

The booth suddenly felt a little too close. "A shot at what?" "You know, this whole balance thing."

He looked serious. As serious as the person I'd felt hiding underneath when he touched me. I wondered how difficult it must be, to walk a tight rope between two lives and two identities. Unless those two people weren't actually different from each other at all. "I think it would depend on how bad the element really is."

Some nameless emotion crossed his face, making me regret letting go of his hand. He picked up a dull knife and balanced it between his fingers, letting it hover over the fragile silence between us. "I got busted in a drug raid."

"Dealing or buying?"

"Dealing."

"Did anyone get hurt?"

He winced as if the question caused him pain, but didn't answer.

"If you really want to change, why are you hanging out with Lonny Johnson?"

"It's complicated," he said almost to himself. "But it doesn't really matter, does it? You know, once a bad element, always a bad element." The words were empty. Hollow. As though he'd heard them so many times they'd lost their meaning.

I watched him fall into a dark corner of himself and I resisted the urge to touch him, not wanting to feel the depth of emotion I saw on his face. Expunging his past was as much his ticket out of a life he didn't want as my scholarship.

"That's bullshit." I turned the page, starting the lesson again. "Just because it's complicated, doesn't mean there isn't a solution."

14.

Marcia wasn't coming back. That much was certain. But Thursday, we knew that Emily wasn't either. Jeremy and I stepped through the front doors as Vote for me for Prom Queen posters of Emily were stuffed into oversized trash bags, discarded like yesterday's news. Posters of new faces immediately went up in their place. Their smiles seemed to say: "Nothing to see here, folks. Everything's back to normal." But I knew better.

Everything wasn't back to normal. The note carved into my table in physics class promised this was far from over. Better luck next time. Emily's disappearance under the bleachers was directly connected to Marcia's murder, even if the police had been careful not to reveal any information about the marking on Marcia's arm that matched the one on Emily.

"What do you think happened?" A gravelly voice spoke close behind me and I lurched. Reece leaned over my shoulder, close enough that his hair tickled my cheek.

"Don't do that!"

He just laughed.

"I'm heading to class." Jeremy swallowed hard, Adam's

apple catching on his good-bye. "See you later, Leigh." He disappeared behind a row of lockers before I could say a word.

Reece sidled up beside me. "I don't think he likes me very much."

"You might consider softening your image a bit . . . if you care, that is." I picked up my pace and he walked beside me in silence.

"So . . ." he finally asked, "what do you think?"

I risked a sideways glance, seeing only his left side in profile. It was like looking at an entirely different person. From this side, I couldn't see the two barbells in his brow, the scar that leaned to the right of his chin, or even his tattoo. He looked smooth and deceptively charming. Even his smile seemed to hug the left side of his face. It was like all he had to do to soften his image was turn around. "I don't know . . . Maybe the facial piercings are a bit much."

He touched the studs in his brow. "That's not what I meant. What do you think about Emily and Marcia? A lot of rumors flying around. What do you think happened?"

I'd been listening for days for the quiet conversations between classes, and the whispering clusters in the halls. The school had been so preoccupied with Marcia's death, everyone had more or less forgotten about Emily until this morning when her Prom Court posters came down. Nothing in any of the wild rumors linked the two. Which meant the police had told Reece that the cases were connected. And now he was fishing. Waiting for me to slip up and say something that he could take back to Nicholson.

"I think their families have probably been through enough. And talking about it isn't going to change what happened to either of them."