Supper has long since finished by the time I get back to school, and the meal hall is closed. I grab a granola bar and some nuts from one of the vending machines. On my way to my room, I pass Sam’s room, and her door is wide open. From my peripheral view, I find her sitting on her bed. She looks up at me, and I keep walking until I hear her call my name.

I slow, but I don’t stop. She calls me again. “Charlie!”

I’m only a few feet away from my room, and I desperately want to keep going but things will only get worse if I ignore her. After releasing a heavy sigh that originates somewhere deep in my stomach, I turn on a heel. She stands in her doorway now. She’s still in her soccer uniform. They must have had practice tonight.

I force a smile. “What’s up?” I say, trying to sound upbeat.

“We missed you at supper. Busy day?”

Does she know? How could she know? She's fishing. Wouldn’t she love to know what I did today so she could pass it on to Ozzie. “Yeah. Super busy.”

“Emily said you had to go out of town.”

Emily has a big mouth. “Yeah, just some family stuff. My sister is having an engagement party next weekend…so she has me running errands and…well…yeah.”

“But you still have time for Oz, right?”

Here’s where my voice loses its sweetness. I cross my arms over my chest. “What do you want, Sam?”

“Nothing, really. I saw him here the other night, and I guess I was surprised. I was trying to be nice and be your friend when I warned you about him.”

“Is that so?”

She reaches up to twirl the end of her blond ponytail. She’s quiet for a moment as she shakes her head. “No, it’s not.”

What? Did she just admit she was lying? “I’m sorry?”

“You’re right. I’m full of shit.”

I didn’t expect this. She renders me speechless.

“Look, I…fell in love with Oz, and he didn’t feel the same. I’m not used to guys being lukewarm about me. I’m not saying that to be conceited, but I finally find a guy I really liked, and he’s the one guy who doesn't like me like I like him. So, I thought he was cheating. And I dug into his personal life. But what was I supposed to do?”

Not dig into his personal life? But I don’t say that. There is a vulnerability to her right now that I’ve never seen before. Even with the over-confidence, I can’t hate her for saying men love her out loud. Because the truth is she loved a guy and he didn’t love her back. What kind of a bitch would I be if I didn’t feel compassion for her?

Sigh. Should I reach out and touch her shoulder to comfort her? How much will that help her? She doesn’t want comfort from me. We’re never going to be besties and braid each other’s hair. I could be real back, but I don’t see how it would help. Tell her I care about Ozzie? Tell her I'm writing an article, and it will likely be over the second he finds out? No, we might be sharing a moment, but I don’t trust her, and I doubt I ever will.

“I’m sorry you were hurt,” I say, my tone soft, “but I don't know what I could possibly do to help.”

She knows exactly what I can do. “Don’t date him. It’s bad enough to see him around campus, but to see him come to your room?” Her eyes are glassy, and I feel like a complete dick. There’s a girl code, but not with acquaintances, which is really all she means to me.

I give her what I can because I don’t want to add to her pain. “I won’t let him come over here again. You have my word.”

“But you’re still going to see him?” Her voice is high pitched.

I hug my middle and shift on my feet. “I’m sorry, Sam. I am. And I wouldn’t let this bother you. Chances are we won’t last anyway.”

Beth, a girl who lives next door to me, walks by and I move to the side, close to Sam’s door, to move out of her way.

“Why do you think you won’t last?”

I lean against the wall after Sam and I continue talking. “I'm not sure I’m his type either.”

Sam’s expression darkens a little. The red eyes are fading, though her cheeks seem to glow with heat. Without another word, she takes a step back into her room and slams the door.

I tip my head back and sigh. I didn’t mean to offend her. She has to know she’s not Ozzie’s type, or she would still be with him. I thought that was a given, but saying it out loud touched a nerve, I suppose. Once again, I feel like a dick. But knock on her door and continue the conversation? I don't feel that bad.

The door to Emily’s and my room is unlocked so I walk in without knocking. She usually puts a hair tie around the knob if she and Brad are here. That’s not often, though. But Brad is here tonight. They surprise me when I see them sitting on her bed, her laying in front of him between his thighs as they lean back against the headboard, him massaging her shoulders.

“Hey!” she says enthusiastically. “I missed you today.”

“Me, too.” I sit on my bed and take off my shoes, putting them side by side at the bottom of my bed. “Hey Brad.”

He gives me a curt nod. Obviously, he still hates me for deceiving his friend. Fewer and fewer people seem to love me as the week wanes on. If I didn’t get used to this in high school, my feelings might be really hurt.

“How did it go?” she asks.

“Okay.”

“Did you get anything?”

I raise my eyebrows at her and glance at Brad. She mouths, “He knows.”

Great, he knows I went to Blanford. No wonder he’s still pissed at me.

“I got a date—October 27, 2009. Does that date mean anything to you?” I ask Brad for the hell of it. Like he’ll help me.

He shrugs. “Doesn’t ring any bells.” His nose twitches, and he narrows his eyes. He’s lying.

I take a seat at my computer. “I’m sorry we put you in this position,” I say quietly to Brad. “I'm going to tell him.”

“For real?" Emily asks.

“I think so. But I have to find out what that date means first, and I need to know what he did community service for. I can’t give up my life for a guy when he might not be the guy I think he is.”

Brad clears his throat and drops his hands. After Emily begs him to continue, he simply shakes his head, earning him a full-on pout from Emily. He pulls one of his legs back and moves out from behind Emily. Then he leans against the wall the bed is pushed against. Emily turns sideways so she’s sitting cross-legged beside him. She leans her head on his shoulder.

“Your headmaster’s name was Phoque?” I say with a hint of a smile.

He tries not to grin, but with Emily vibrating with laughter next to him, it's hard for him not to.

“He was kind of awesome,” Brad says. “He gave us an excuse to say ‘fuck’ all the time.”

“But that’s not how you say it. It’s almost the same, but there’s a difference.”

“Yeah, but to us, he was Mr. Fuck.”

“Poor guy. That’s a very unfortunate name.”

“What’s with the date?” Brad asks. Turns out he didn’t know what it meant after all.

“I don’t know,” I say solemnly, shaking my head. I fire up my laptop and wait for the homepage to load. “My source told me the date, and that was all he’d say.”

Brad clucks his tongue. “Fuck told you that?”

“I can't say. But it doesn’t seem like you'd be surprised if he did.” I pull out my phone and plug it in. My battery died on the way home, and I’m sure I have a dozen calls missed from Mom and probably my sister, too.

“Fuck hated athletes,” Brad says. “More than once he tried to get guys on the team suspended for shitty grades.”

“Isn’t that standard policy at schools? If you can’t make the grades, you don’t get to play, right?”

He wraps his arm around Emily, and she nestles in tight. “Sure, I guess. But in the policy, it said it was up to the teacher. If the teacher saw improvement or knew someone was getting help, they could waive the suspension on us. A guy from my baseball team overheard Fuck giving a teacher a hard time about it. Pretty much told her if the teachers didn’t start cracking down on athletes and grades that they’d lose their positions.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

“What a prick,” Emily says. “He ever try to get you suspended, baby?”

“More than once.”

“What about Ozzie?” I ask.

He frowns, and though he wants to resist answering, I guess the topic of Fuck pisses him off enough to open his mouth. “No way. Ozzie was a fucking A student.”

“Huh.”

“You seem surprised?” Brad adds. “You don't think jocks make As?”

I sigh before turning my head in his direction. “That’s not what I said. Don’t put words in my mouth.”

His face softens, but only a little.

“It’s cold in here.” Emily cuddles him a little closer. Is she talking about the mood? He grabs the blanket at the bottom of the bed and pulls it up over her legs.

“Mr. Fuck didn’t like Ozzie much,” I say. “Is that just because he was on a team?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. But then…”

“What?”

“Nothing. It's none of my business and certainly none of yours.”

“Please, Brad. I won’t put any of it in a story. I want to know, for me.”

When Emily elbows him, he rolls his eyes, but he also starts talking. “This stays in this room?”

I nod. “Of course.”

“You can trust her, Brad.”

He sighs. The look on his face says he doesn’t trust me at all. But it doesn’t stop him.

“Ozzie didn't come from money—at least, not like the other guys at our school. Not sure how he got in—scholarship, I’d guess, but I don't think Fuck liked it. He was always after him in the halls. Picking him up for stupid shit. Oz couldn’t walk past his office without Fuck telling him to cut his hair, or tuck his shirt in, or pull up his pants. It was noticeable. I could have stood next to him with my shirt unbuttoned, wearing flip-flops and shorts, and he'd pick on Oz, but not me.”

“I don't get it. Ozzie is such a nice guy. There’s something I’m missing. Something big. It must be about what he did to get community service.”

“I don't know anything about community service. The guy I knew was quiet, and he studied a lot. He didn't seem like a criminal to me. Personally, I think it’s bullshit. Probably a rumor.”

“Were there rumors about him in high school?”

Brad uncrosses and crosses his feet. He stares at me. “I don't spread rumors.”

“That's fair. Rumors suck.”

“Yes, they do,” Emily agrees.

My phone beeps as it turns on.

I quickly read a message from Ozzie.

Practice tonight. Call you after.

I ignore the message for now. Once I have Google open, I tap in the date Fuck gave me in the search field. There are millions of hits for that date—as I suspected there would be. I tap my pen on the desk while I think. I narrow the search down to Nova Scotia. I mean, how much headline news could there be in a small province in one day? Over eleven million, that’s how many. I add his name and there is nothing. Just for shits and giggles, I add his first name only. And there are seven. Now we’re getting somewhere.

I suck in air as I bring up an article in a newspaper from the town of Clements. My head snaps in Emily’s and Brad’s direction, and they look at me curiously. A boy who looks like a young Ozzie is on the front cover with tears in his eyes.