"I know. It's all over school, how Prince Pierced-A-Lot came to your rescue." Jeremy put his hand to his head and went limp against my shoulder, a mock swoon. "How'd it feel to be the damsel in distress?"

"Shut up." I knocked his knee with my own. "What else did you hear?"

"Just that Vince got off with a warning. He didn't throw a punch and administration doesn't want to screw up his spotless athletic record . . ."

I threw my bag lunch into the dirt. In the school's eyes, as long as Vince DiMorello scored goals, he could do no wrong. No one cared that he was showing naked pictures of my mother or picking fights in the hall. They refused to see him as a criminal, but I knew better. Vince DiMorello was as evil as his twisted bloody smile.

"Whelan got a week of suspension and a one-strikeyou're-out warning."

I closed my eyes and leaned my head against the bark, letting that bombshell sink in. A week of suspension. I should have been happy, thrilled even, to have Reece off my back for an entire week. But I couldn't shake off a sense of guilt.

We sprung him . . . for good behavior . . . cut him a deal . . . stays in school and keeps his nose clean . . .

I felt sick. If Reece had been expelled, he'd end up back in jail. And-underlying motives or not-he'd fought Vince because of me.

I hope you're worth it.

Jeremy's elbow knocked mine, drawing my attention as he drew up his sleeve. He flexed a wiry bicep.

"You know, if I had been there, I would have taken care of Vince for you."

I arched a weary eye. If Jeremy had been there, we'd have suffered the verbal smack-down together. Vince was an equalopportunity destroyer.

"Seriously," he insisted, holstering his pathetic guns. "I'd have challenged him to a spelling bee. Total jock obliteration. I'd have been ruthless in defense of your honor." He pressed a fist over his heart and tipped his head to mine.

A laugh bubbled over the lump in my throat. I leaned on him, resting my head between his chin and shoulder. He felt warm and familiar, and surprisingly serene. He tasted like chamomile and honey. I soaked up his feelings for me, letting them radiate through me like the sun.

"You seem . . . better than you did last week." It was easier to say, when neither of was looking right at the other. I felt him shrug. Felt the deep breath he took before speaking.

"Yeah, about that," he exhaled. "I just wasn't myself."

"Don't apologize. I never should have called you a shitty reporter-"

"Oh, so now I'm a 'shitty' reporter?" My head bobbed on his shoulder.

"You know that's not what I meant." I tipped my chin up to make sure he was laughing. He was. He gave me a peck on the forehead, then looked away, before either of us could second-guess his reasons.

At least Jeremy was honest with himself. He never tried to be anyone he wasn't, accepting each of us for who we were, flaws and all. He was a real friend, not a paid one. I knew he wouldn't mind when I asked him to skip lunch to drive me home so I could pretend to be sick for the rest of the day.

I knew he'd share half of his sandwich with me on the way.

And we both knew I wouldn't have anything to give in return.

16.

That night, I pulled back the sheet, a makeshift curtain tacked to the paneling over my window, while I balanced the phone under my chin. I was only half listening to Anh while she bitched about her brother. ". . . so he refused to sign the permission slip. He says it's a waste of time to spend an entire school day at an amusement park. Instead, he's making me go on a bunch of college tours out of town all weekend. I'm so pissed!"

Mona disappeared beyond the circle of the neighbor's security lights. They flickered on and off in succession, the dark snapping at her heels as she stepped in and out of each one, and approached the traffic light at the end of the street.

From the point where she disappeared, a single headlight turned, blinding me as it drew closer.

"I think he just has something against Jeremy . . ."

Reece. He cruised under the same security light Mona had just tripped. My stomach twisted in a tight knot. Was he here to blame me, to tell me it was my fault he got suspended? Or was he here to pick up our conversation where we left off, before his fight with Vince, when he'd asked me what I'd really thought had happened to Emily and Marcia?

"Leigh, are you even listening?"

I dropped the sheet and leaned against the wall. "Sorry, Anh. I'll call you back. I have to go." I disconnected, heart speeding up as I listened for Reece's bike to slow. But he didn't stop at my trailer. His bike rumbled past and I counted beats until he killed the engine at the dead end of the street.

What the hell was Reece Whelan doing? No one parked at the playground at the end of Sunny View Drive after dark, unless they had business there. And there were only two kinds of business in Sunny View. My mind spun with a sick curiosity. I'd watched men pick up rent-a-girls on the corner by the playground all my life. I was numb to it. But something inside me clenched when I pictured Reece with them. Or when I considered that the alternative might actually be worse.

What if he wasn't here for the girls? He said he'd been sent to juvie because he'd been busted in a drug raid. How far could he fall if he thought he'd lost everything?

Make sure he stays in line.

Shit.

I pushed off the wall and threw open my bedroom door. The stale reek of Mona's cigarettes assaulted me in the hall. I grabbed the metal bat and slid back the dead bolt, taking a last deep breath.

I kept to the shadows, careful to avoid the light sensors and trailers with barking dogs, and looped around the block, emerging behind the broken-down playground. Rancid trash gagged me as I crouched low behind a Dumpster and peered around it.