The bell rang, dismissing them for lunch. Isobel gathered her things and stood, loading the Poe book on top of her binder, now sorry she’d rooted it out of her locker, since they hadn’t been given any time to work in their groups that day. When she looked up, though, she no longer saw Varen at his desk. Instead her eyes found him standing out in the hall, talking to somebody blocked by the wall, though her suspicions about who it was were confirmed the moment she caught sight of black hair and a copper-toned, bracelet-lined wrist.

Her eyes narrowed. She shoved her things under one arm and started for the door. She thought, as she drew nearer, that she might have caught the word “bimbo.”

Before she could even think to stop herself, Isobel slipped out into the hall and stood next to Varen, touching him gently on the arm. The connection sent a static sensation coursing through her. He turned fast, his eyes on hers, deep green pools of surprise. Through sheer will, Isobel kept her hand steady on his sleeve. Then, for the killer, she leaned in, quietly interrupting with, “Hey, I’ll see you after school, okay?”

She didn’t wait for an answer. Her gaze slid from him to Lacy, and Isobel took care to flash her a wink-smile combo. The Queen of Sheba stood stunned, her glossy maroon lips parted in awe. Still smiling, Isobel spun on her toes. Putting just the right amount of sway in her walk, she headed toward the lunchroom.

Isobel left the lunch line with the Poe book and her binder both clamped under one arm and tried to keep her tray steady with both hands. Thursdays were order-out-pizza days at Trenton, and Isobel, her empty stomach finally catching up with her, had grabbed the biggest slice of Tony Tomo’s mushroom pizza she could find. From there, it was a balancing act all the way to her table, and she didn’t see who was sitting there until she was ready to set her tray down.

Stevie. He stood up and reached out to take her books. Isobel noticed that he was wearing one of his usual Trenton sweatshirts, blue with a big yellow T printed on the chest.

“Hey,” he said, “mind if I sit here today?”

Isobel shook her head. She slid her tray onto the table, watching him carefully. She resisted the urge to glance toward the crew’s usual spot, and she hoped Stevie realized what this would mean for him. But then again, she thought, after standing up for her yesterday at practice, she wouldn’t doubt it if the crew hadn’t already given him the boot.

She sat down. “Hey, by the way, thanks for yesterday,” she said. Maybe if she kept the conversation light, he wouldn’t feel pressured to talk about any falling-out that had gone on. She picked up her slice of pizza from her plate, famished.

“Isobel . . .”

“Yeah?” she managed, just before chomping down.

“I came over here today because I need to talk to you. I think Mark and Brad are up to something,” he said in a low voice.

Isobel slowed her chewing. She let the slice of pizza slip back onto her plate and, wiping her hands on her napkin, tried to swallow. “What do you mean?”

“I heard Brad and Mark talking about it after third period,” he went on. “But they stopped right as I walked up. I only heard Mark asking Brad if he thought you’d tell. Then Brad said something like, ‘He won’t be able to prove anything.’”

Isobel froze at the word “he.” She dropped her hands into her lap, still clutching her napkin, and skimmed the cafeteria with her eyes. She saw Brad, Mark, Alyssa, and Nikki sitting together. She glanced toward the goths’ table next, though she didn’t see Varen. Or Lacy, for that matter. She frowned.

“Isobel,” said Stevie, lowering his voice to a whisper. She turned back to him as he leaned over the table. “Brad won’t stop talking about you. Something’s gotten into him over this whole thing between you and that guy. I mean, jeez, if he’s not talking about you, then he’s saying all this stuff about how he’s going to mess up this Varen.”

Isobel went still as she sat listening. Why couldn’t Brad just let it go? Why couldn’t he let her go?

“Isobel, I think they might do something major. I mean, Brad is convinced that Varen’s responsible for what happened to his car. Did you know the police found claw marks on his tires?”

“Say what?” Isobel leaned in, shaking her head. Stevie was talking so low, she couldn’t be sure she’d heard him right.

“All this stuff keeps happening. And I—I think you ought to tell someone that Brad’s been acting weird about you before he does whatever he’s got planned. Nikki thinks so too.”