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is branded over your heart like Hawthorne’s Scarlet Letter .
    I’d killed a child—not with a gun or a knife or my hands but with words and technology. There were no degrees of guilt. You’re either guilty or you’re not—and I am.
    Julie stared at me as Mr. Williams again called for our attention, but my mind was still spinning. Maybe she’d recognized me. Maybe she was related to the same Murphys. Oh God. Maybe her brother was Liam. How could I find out without divulging that I was the one who’d killed him? I was pretty sure Liam had no sisters. The only relatives ever in court were his parents. Hell, I didn’t even know his name until after I…until after , when it was all over the news. No. No, it couldn’t be true. I’d gone to a school with hundreds of other kids in a New Jersey beach town, and it was there where I’d teased and taunted little Liam. If he had a sister, what would she be doing in a school in a town a hundred miles away? No, I was being paranoid, that’s all. The odds were just too great to imagine.
    Maybe, but that’s just the kind of luck you have.
    True that.
    I kept sneaking glances at her. She didn’t look familiar. Just as I breathed in relief, Kenny hit me with this: Think about it, genius. All the memories, the heartbreak. They probably moved away to escape it all, start over. You know, like you did.
    I cursed Kenny out loud, but nobody noticed. I hadn’t thought about that. Of course, that was likely. I needed to stay far away from Julie until I could be sure. My parents would know about Liam’s family. They’d had to file a restraining order against his father.
    â€œOkay, guys, here’s the plan. Working in teams of four, you’ll reach into this hat, pick a bill congress is considering passing, research it, and then present your stance on it—pro or con. The goal is to win support for your position, so even though you are working in quads, you will present to the entire class with the goal of winning their votes.” Mr. Williams approached our group. “Miss Murphy, any idea why this assignment is a good idea?”
    Julie’s eyes popped. “Uh. No.”
    Mr. Williams turned to Paul. “Mr. Oliva?”
    Paul shrugged.
    â€œMr. Ellison?”
    I swallowed. “Um. Well. I guess because persuading others to see your point of view is an important skill for someone who wants to be a lawyer?”
    Mr. Williams inclined his head. “One of them.” To the rest of the class, he continued, “The ability not merely to speak but to speak eloquently under pressure cannot be overstated. Just ask former president Bush.”
    The class snickered.
    â€œIn this assignment, you’ll learn how to prepare your facts and respond to attempts to derail your progress.” He clapped his hands. “Okay, examples. Roe v. Wade , legalizing marijuana use.” He ignored the hoots that rang out across the class at that one and tossed a pile of handouts to the student in the first desk, who passed them along. “Here’s the rubric. Now decide who picks.”
    Noise levels rose as the groups complied.
    I turned to Paul, who looked at me in horror. “Not me.”
    Julie’s glacial eyes were still stuck on me. With a lift of my eyebrow, I dared her.
    â€œYou pick.”
    She shook her head.
    â€œFine. I’ll pick the damn law out of the hat.”
    I should have known better than to tempt fate. I gulped when I unfolded the slip of paper and read it.
    The Good Samaritan Laws.
    My life sucked.
    Oh, man. This is hilarious, Kenny said. I shot him a glare.
    Sweating, I tapped one of the girls in the group beside ours. “Wanna trade laws?”
    The girl, hot in a common way with the same hairstyle, same clothes as the other girls, exchanged a glance with her teammates. “What law did you pick?”
    â€œGood Samaritan Laws.”
    The girl stared at me, a bit