’d barely had a minute to absorb Bracken’s warning before Sarah Jane intercepted me as I trotted down the main staircase.

“McKenna’s looking for you,” she said. Her tone lacked its usual belligerence, and it made me even more apprehensive.

“Do you know why?”

She shrugged. “My guess is she’s going to interrogate the entire senior class over those texts, and she’s starting with you. Just deny knowing anything, and you’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” I said, bemused she’d offer me advice. “I appreciate the heads up.”

We lingered on the staircase landing, sunlight filtering through a giant stained glass window depicting the Harrington coat of arms. The prefect seemed in no hurry to send me on my way.

“You’re not like them,” she observed. “You don’t act like you’re better than anyone else.”

“Thanks,” I said again, not sure how else to respond. “I hope this means we can be friends.” Never overlook a potential asset, Benson would say. Having a prefect on my side could be useful, and if she would lose the resentment she wore like armor, she might even be fun.

Her curt nod said she’d take it under consideration, making me rethink using “fun” and “Sarah Jane” in the same sentence. We then parted ways as I trudged back up to the second floor. Ms. Portman wasn’t at her desk, but the door to McKenna’s lair stood ajar. Muttering “quid pro quo,” like a talisman, I knocked.

“Come in,” she ordered.

Her eyes narrowed at the sight of me, and my stomach clenched. Always do what you are afraid to do was another Benson rule. When I told him he’d plagiarized a Ralph Waldo Emerson quote, he’d smiled smugly and replied, “It doesn’t make it any less true, now does it?”

McKenna sat at her desk. Forcing my feet across her beautiful antique rug, I met her stare without flinching–outwardly at least. “You sent for me?”

She tossed down her pen and leaned back in her chair. “What do you know about the dissemination of Quinn Sheffield’s texts?” She didn’t bother to invite me to sit.

“Nothing,” I said, not bothering to feign surprise. “But I sincerely hope neither you nor the school suffers because of it.”

“Pretty words,” she said. “I will be conducting a thorough investigation. Despite Quinn’s wrongdoing, we don’t condone the gross violation of privacy that occurred here. We will find the perpetrator, and he or she will be punished.”

“Mr. Bracken speaks very highly of you,” I said, changing tactics. “He said you always have his back, just like you do for the rest of the staff here. I know Harrington means everything to you.”

“Is there a point here?” Despite the fact she was seated and I stood, she still somehow managed to stare haughtily down her nose at me. I could imagine lesser souls turning into puddles at her feet.

I soldiered on. “I’m not saying I had anything to do with what happened to Quinn Sheffield, but I would certainly never wish anything like that to happen again.” It was as far as I could go to promise no further embarrassments without admitting guilt. “While you’re investigating, you may want to check out the rest of your security protocols.”

She paused for a moment, as if turning over my words to see if they contained a veiled threat, but then deciding I was simply a nuisance to be flicked aside. “Despite this breach, I have complete confidence that Harrington remains the safest and most secure school in Connecticut.”

There was a definite rhythm to sparring. You entered the ring, took your opponent’s measure, and then moved into serious combat. With a start, I realized we were following the playbook in our verbal match. It was time to engage.

“Yes, let’s hope you’re right,” I said, with a faint smile.

Her hard stare told me I had her attention. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing, ma’am,” I said, with wide-eyed innocence. “But in the few weeks I’ve been here, I’ve seen a lot of things that may lead other people to think the school isn’t as secure as you believe.” The outdated lighting, the lack of security cameras, the open campus that invited trespassers all sprang to mind. “I would hate to see something else happen that would call your leadership into question.” There it was, the full frontal attack.

She pushed out of her chair and slapped her palms on the desk. “I have the full support of the board and the alumni association. They would never let some little troublemaker who doesn’t belong here threaten to push me out.” It was a good defensive move on her part, but I wasn’t finished.

“But surely it’s occurred to you,” I said pleasantly. “If I’m not qualified to be a Harrington girl, then what am I doing here?”

Her nostrils flared as she recognized the echo of her own words. Slowly she sat back down and picked up her pen, resuming the pose of a busy executive.

“Thank you for stopping by, Riley. I am delighted to hear you will do your utmost to prevent any further intrusions into our students’ privacy.” She looked me over with grudging respect. “Perhaps you’re a Harrington girl after all.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

We had tapped out and retreated to our respective corners.

A low-budget rental car squatted in front of the upper girls’ dorm when I returned from class the next afternoon to change for another pointless equestrian lesson. I would never learn to ride; what I did would more aptly be described as clinging.

Dozens of students, mostly seniors, lined the walkway in front of Watson Hall stretching from door to road. Overhead, a few girls leaned expectantly out their windows. A low level of chatter hummed through the somber crowd as if gathered at the scene of an accident.

I sidled up to Von and Stef. “What’s going on?”

“Walk of shame,” Stef said in a hushed voice.

At my confused expression, Von said, “Quinn’s leaving.”

That came as no surprise. She hadn’t been seen since the incident, and the rumor mill claimed she’d been expelled the following day.

Everyone fell silent as the front doors of Watson Hall were thrown open. Two of the school’s security guards emerged wheeling trunks and suitcases. A hugely overweight woman, an older and frumpier version of Quinn, followed. She stared straight ahead as she marched to the car and wedged herself in behind the wheel, leaving the bemused guards to play valet.

The car’s trunk packed and closed, Quinn trudged down the front steps with Major Taylor leading the way. Quinn was like a deflated balloon. Her shoulders sagged, her hair hung limply around a face blotchy from crying, and it even appeared as if she’d lost weight. She huddled inside a heavy cardigan, though the mild afternoon breeze didn’t warrant such a defense.

At the door to the car, Quinn stopped and scanned the crowd. Any remaining hope she harbored that Hayden might forgive her vanished with the realization her former friend couldn’t even be bothered to come witness her final humiliation. When her eyes fell on me, she noticeably stiffened and raised her chin. I imagined she’d rather die than allow me to see her defeated.

The passenger window slid down with an electronic hum. “Quinn! Get in the G.D. car!”

With her head held high, she climbed in and slammed the door behind her. Within moments the car sped away, flagrantly disregarding the ten miles an hour speed limit on campus. Most of the onlookers, including Von and Stef, faded back to their dorms or set course for the practice fields, but I remained to watch the little car zoom down to the school’s front gates.

“Congratulations.” I didn’t have to turn around to know Major Taylor had quietly moved in behind me.

“I’ve done nothing to celebrate,” I said, still facing the road so it appeared as if we just happened to be standing near one another.

“No? The impediment to the Frasier girl is gone, and the kill shot has Karl’s fingerprints all over it. ‘Identify your friends… eliminate your enemies’,” she said, quoting one of Benson’s rules.

I bristled at the notion I should be dancing on Quinn’s grave. “It’s done. I’d rather put it behind me.”

“You feel sorry for the Sheffield girl?” Her voice held a note of surprise.

“Not exactly. She did the wrong thing for the wrong reason, but is it that much better if you do the wrong thing for the right reason?” My dad called it moral flexibility, but I’d never quite understood the term until now.

When no response came, I glanced behind me to see if she’d slipped away as stealthily as she’d arrived, but Major Taylor remained, her eyes downcast.

At last she said, “You’d be surprised what you will do with the right motivation. Keep me in the loop next time. We’re in this together, remember?”

And then she was gone.

Hayden put on a good front. She tossed her hair with indifference as she walked by clusters of people chewing over her every move. Was Hayden secretly glad, as the rumors claimed, to be rid of Quinn? Now that her buffer was gone, would she go back to being the same outgoing girl she’d been before Rose’s death? And who would claim the coveted position of her BFF? Everyone knew the job came with an automatic invitation to spend the winter holidays on the Frasier’s private island in the Caribbean, so there were plenty of girls eager to apply.

Whether it was due to Quinn’s absence or time lessening the pain of her grief over Rose, Hayden showed signs of lightening up. She had a quick wit and sly sense of humor, especially when it came to her own surreal life.

At dinner that night, Von teased her about how she’d used the vocabulary words forfeiture and domestic in English class. “My parents’ divorce resulted in the forfeiture of one of my dad’s jets, but since its range was limited to domestic travel, he got over it quickly,” he quoted with glee.

Hayden laughed good-naturedly.

Later in the common room, Jane Song flipped on one of Tory Palmer’s romantic comedies. “Is this cool?” Jane asked. “I love this movie.”

“No worries,” Hayden assured her. “I get along with my mom just fine when she’s on Netflix.”

I also joined her for the first time in the guys’ common room for study period, though on the walk back to our dorm I was disconcerted by the mist settling on the ground, making it feel like we were trudging through a spooky, B-movie graveyard. Add that to the almost nonexistent lighting, and I suddenly longed for my footlocker full of weapons and gadgets. I would retrieve it at the first opportunity and vowed that from then on, I’d always carry my Taser and baton when we walked at night, ready to ward off intruders or the possible vampire attack.

“Have you done your chem labs yet?” I asked the following night as we walked out of Hale Hall after study period. We both had a ridiculous amount of homework for Chemistry, and part of me hoped we could collaborate.

“No. I’m behind on everything,” she admitted. Left unspoken was the sympathy pass she’d undoubtedly get from our teachers for at least a week. “God, I’m sick of this place.”

I surreptitiously monitored our surroundings as we started to cross the grounds. “Where are you applying to college?”

She snorted with disdain. “I don’t get to apply for college. I have early acceptance at Stanford.”

“That’s fantastic,” I exclaimed, curious as to how that could be a bad thing.

“Not if you’d rather go someplace else. It’s my dad’s alma mater and he gives them buckets of money, so once again I’ll be Miss Stephen Frasier’s Daughter.”

It was obvious the last thing she wanted to hear was how lucky she was, or how much I envied her easy entrance to a university at the top of my list. “Have you told him how you feel?”

“No,” she sighed. “He’s so excited that I’ll follow in his footsteps. I know I should be grateful, but sometimes I wish I could move to the middle of nowhere and, I don’t know, hang out at a mall or something.”

“Is that what typical American teenagers do?” I’d seen a few horror movies depicting that particular pastime, though it never seemed to end well for them.

“I don’t know. If we ever meet one, we’ll ask,” she joked.

“I think you should apply to the colleges you want to go to,” I said.

“Just like that?” She gazed at me as if I’d proposed a radical idea, like wearing designer knockoffs. “Blow off Stanford, and my dad’s expectations, and jump ship?”

“Why not?” Her family had more money than the gross national product of several small countries I could name. Hayden could surely get her hands on cash for tuition if her dad balked at a change in plan.

We made it to Watson Hall without any ghouls rising up from the fog and raced up the stairs, too impatient to wait for the elevator. Somewhere a pair of fleecy sweats called my name.

Hayden had changed into her PJs and had a toothbrush in her mouth when she popped out of the bathroom. “What are you doing this weekend?”

I squinted at her, wondering if this was a trick question. “Anything that doesn’t involve vodka.”

“I’m going to New York. You should come with me.” Her eyes danced as if this was the most brilliant idea in the history of brilliant ideas. She dashed back into the bathroom to rinse.

“Can you do that?” What would Major Taylor say? What would her dad say?

She stepped back out and shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Weekend pass, Dad’s penthouse at the Four Seasons, a little shopping, and I’ll take the Mercedes.”

“Shouldn’t you have, I don’t know, a bodyguard or something? You’re not exactly inconspicuous.” I had to discourage her from taking such a risk without professional security, though the invitation was tempting.

“Every time my dad makes me have a bodyguard, they always report back on every single detail of my life,” she complained. “If I ask them to cut me some slack, they always say my dad’s paying them, so they need to follow orders. I’m over it.”

I flopped across my bed, waiting my turn in the bathroom. “Are you planning to do something your dad wouldn’t approve of?”

She grinned. “Most definitely.”

My mind raced at the security implications, but maybe there weren’t all that many. After all, nothing had come from the wayward drone, and who was to say Quinn hadn’t planted the bugs to monitor any conversation between Hayden and me? You could buy anything online, and it would have been like her to do something like that. The more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed.

The money Karen had forked over remained hidden under my bed, begging to be spent at some overpriced boutique, and there was a pile of clothes in my closet waiting to be shown off. Hayden would go whether I went or not, and I had a duty to protect her.

“Let’s do it,” I said.

“Yes! We’ll go Saturday morning. Have your people email school with permission for a weekend pass.”

“My people?” I laughed. “You know most of us don’t have people, right?”

Her smile dimmed just a bit. “Not all of us can be so lucky, you know.”

As I took my turn in the bathroom, I wondered which one of us she was talking about.