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Lee house early. Bree asked me to.”
    â€œWas Olivia all right when you got there?”
    â€œTo be honest, not really. I’m not sure what it was about. I didn’t ask.”
    â€œIf you didn’t talk to her about it, what makes you think something was wrong?”
    â€œShe was mad at somebody, all right. That’s totally for sure. She said something along the lines of ‘If looks could kill, I’d be a dead girl.’”
    Annie’s pulse quickened. “Kill? Did somebody threaten her?”
    Drew shrugged again. “Honestly, it was pretty much a joke. We laughed about it on the way over.”
    â€œWhat else did she say?”
    â€œNothing. She said nothing. Can I leave now?”
    Annie stood and indicated the door. “Thank you, Drew. I know this has been hard.”
    Drew grinned. “Not that hard. You should try going home late from a party and having my old man question you. That’s hard. Being questioned about a murder? That’s cake.”

Chapter 5
    THE DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN at Kingston High usually saw a mix of nerdy boys bragging about the awesome pranks they’d played on some unsuspecting sap (frequently involving dog poop in a paper bag, toilet paper decorations, and stealing candy—bowl and all—that trusting neighbors left on their front stoops), dorks with taffy stuck in their braces, and weight-watching teachers complaining that they ate their entire leftover stash of Fun Size (or rather, ton-size) Snickers and were now beyond sorry for doing so.
    Not this year. Not by a long shot. The morning after Brianna’s party, Kingston’s gleaming halls were abuzz with decidedly sinister talk. The news started off with a text message from Beth to Hayley and Taylor:
    BETH: OMG! OLIVIA WAS KILLED LAST NIGHT.
    HAYLEY: WTF?
    TAYLOR: JOKE?
    BETH: NO. POLICE CAME. KILLED AT BRIANNA’S. DON’T KNOW
    DEETS. MOM IS CRYING. I AM 2. THIS IS MY FAULT.
    TAYLOR: NOT UR FAULT.
    BETH: I SHOULDN’T HAVE LEFT HER. SHE WZ MY
    RESPONSIBILITY. I SHOULD HAVE BROUGHT HER HOME. I
    SHOULDN’T HAVE FOUGHT W/HER.
    HAYLEY: WHAT HAPPENED TO HER? OVERDOSE?
    BETH: WORSE. STABBED.
    TAYLOR: HOLY C.
    That was followed by a Twitter post, a Facebook firestorm, and mass texting from and to nearly every kid who went to Kingston High School. While many didn’t know her personally, they all had heard what happened and knew who she was: Olivia Grant, the British girl:
    KID WITH ASPERGER’S: SHE HAD A NICE SMILE.
    JEALOUS GIRL: SHE WAS PRETTY, IN AN OBVIOUS, UNORIGINAL
    KIND OF WAY.
    HORNY BOY: SUCH A WASTE OF HOTNESS.
    TEACHER’S AIDE: SHE WAS SO YOUNG.
    Hayley and Taylor stood by their lockers, feeling sick and scared. They had learned the news by text as soon as Beth and her mother had been awakened by police to say that their houseguest would not be coming home. Beth’s text was confirmation of what Taylor and Hayley’s nighttime silent chatter had been about: something very, very bad had happened. The circle on the windowpane hadn’t been a circle, but the letter O .
    O for Olivia.
    As other students went about their preclass business with the almost electric energy that gossip creates, Hayley and Taylor reviewed everything that had happened the night before. The party. The drinking. The argument.
    â€œThings like that don’t happen here,” Taylor said.
    â€œYou sound like a dimwit who claims that the serial killer next door was nice. Things like this do happen here. They happen everywhere, Taylor,” Hayley responded.
    â€œI guess you’re right,” Taylor said.
    â€œThe question is, who could have done this to Olivia?” Hayley asked.
    â€œNo idea,” Taylor said, stowing her swim-team duffel bag in her locker. She stopped and scanned the crowd in the halls. She waited to see if she picked up on anything weirder than usual in the jostling group of high schoolers. Nothing. “The one thing that really