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us …” He took Morgan’s elbow.
    She glared at the police but stepped to her father’s side.
    “If you hear anything,” Sanchez called, “you will contact us, won’t you, Miss Frierson?” She held out a business card. Paige took it.
    Once in the hallway, Morgan said, “They think I had something to do with it. They think I’m lying.”
    “They’re fishing,” Hal said. “Using intimidation. Ignore them.”
    Morgan was so angry she was shaking. “I don’t know anything!” However, she did know that it would be all over school that she’d been called to Simmons’s office and questioned by the police. That should make whoever had set off the fireworks feel very satisfied and safe.
    “Calm down,” Paige said. “We may never know who did it, so don’t worry about it. It’s over.”
    “Over? I don’t think so. We’ll never have another pep rally. Whoever did this will get off scot-free.”
    The bell rang. Classroom doors banged open and kids flowed into the hall. “We’ll talk at home tonight,” Paige said above the din of chatter and shuffling feet.
    Morgan said, “I’ve got to hurry. I don’t want to be late for next period.”
    “See you at the house,” Paige called as Morgan hurried away.
    Morgan seethed all the way to class. She knew the police didn’t believe her. That message about a “queen bee” was a dead giveaway. That was what she was to Detective Sanchez—a privileged brat who knew more than she was telling.
I don’t know who did it, but I will
. Whoever did this wasn’t going to get away with it.

“S o did the cops frisk you? I would have,” Trent joked.
    “Not funny. They think I’m involved,” Morgan said. They were standing beside the staircase in the atrium after school. The herd of students leaving had thinned, but the area was still noisy with echoes of voices and foot traffic. Trent was heading to the gym for football practice, but she’d stopped him to unload her story about her police interview.
    “Babe, cops always think everybody is guilty. It’s what makes them cops.”
    “I just wish … I mean, if you could have seen the way that woman detective looked at me. And our principal didn’t stick up for me!”
    Trent kissed her forehead. “Let it go. Besides, I think I have something interesting to tell you.”
    “Like what?”
    His brown eyes went mischievous. “No info without a tongue kiss.”
    Her cheeks warmed. “Trent … we’re in the middle of the hall.”
    “And?”
    She glanced around. No one was paying any mind to them, but still she was uncomfortable. PDAs—public displays of affection—weren’t her style. Alone with Trent under their special tree in her front yard was more to her liking. “Later,” she said.
    “Can I stop over after practice?”
    Her parents would be working late, but they didn’t like her having Trent over when they weren’t home. “Fifteen minutes. And only outside.”
    “Wow. Clampdown.” He didn’t look happy about the conditions.
    “You can’t focus on fifteen minutes of me and you under the tree?” She poked him in the chest with her finger. Truthfully, it was getting more difficult to be alone with him—somehow their clothes kept falling off. They’d gotten dangerously close to “doing the deed” more than once.
    Trent shrugged grudgingly. “I guess I’ll have to.”
    She dipped her head to catch his gaze. “A really good fifteen. Now, what news do you have for me?”
    “Heard some whispers about the fireworks. Roth’s name got mentioned.”
    Her heart tripped. “Rothman?”
    “Yeah, tattoo boy. Locker-room talk. Could be true. Nobody likes him.”
    Morgan pressed her lips together. Rumors often held a grain of truth. “Why?”
    “Why not? He’s got a rep for trouble—King of Detention Hall, Most Likely to Be Sent to the Principal’s Office. He could have his own bad-rap page in the yearbook.”
    “How am I going to find out?” she said, mostly to herself.
    “I could beat it out