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Newlin.
    When he finished writing, he leaned back in his chair and tapped his pen on the lollipop stick protruding from the corner of his mouth. “Peyton’s name keeps coming up. I wasn’t surprised to hear Jesse Poole thrashed him. Yesterday, Jesse sat on that very couch in a rage because Peyton said unkind things about Jesse’s mother.”
    “What sort of things?”
    Freddy bit at his lip and shook his head. “Sorry, Bon. If I started quoting students’ private revelations I couldn’t convince them to talk to me.”
    “Have you told Lloyd?”
    “Not even Lloyd.” He spread wide his sausage fingers. “I live and die by the confidences I keep.”
    “Can you at least tell me the time Jesse left here?”
    “Nine-ten, maybe a little later.”
    The timing felt out of kilter. Five minutes after leaving Freddy’s office Jesse had already caught up with Peyton and was pounding him. Peyton’s mother drove him to school that morning, and Bonnie met the boy getting out of his mother’s SUV. They’d walked together to the library. How had Peyton found time to piss off Jesse Poole?
    “I know I’m getting dangerously close to confidentiality, but had Peyton insulted Jesse’s mother the day before?”
    Freddy shook his head, wagging his lollipop stick like a miniature baton. “That morning, in fact, just before Jesse came to see me. We have an agreement, Jesse and I. He comes to me whenever he thinks he might lose his cool. Not a bad boy. He just needs some coping skills.”
    Don’t we all? “Why didn’t you inform Lloyd?” She immediately regretted her accusatory tone.
    Freddy didn’t seem to take offence. “I tried to alert him to the possibility of trouble, but when I called the office Lloyd was gone, and the vice principal was out of the building as well. By the time Lloyd returned, Jesse had already tracked down Peyton and administered instant karma.”
    Freddy put on an apologetic face. “The rest, as the poet was fond of saying, is history.”
    The first bell of the day rang.
    Freddy walked her to the door. “Do you have Stephanie Templeton, Edmund Sheridan, or Ali Griffith in your first hour class?”
    “All three.”
    “Could you send them to me when it’s convenient?”
    Bonnie frowned. One of her pet peeves centered on nurses and counselors pulling students out of class, sometimes for trivial matters. “Is this really important?”
    “It could be for them.”
    “Can I get a hint of why?”
    He rubbed his hands together. “Do you remember a former student named J. D. Sullivan?”
    At first the name didn’t ring any bells. Then it came to her. “Must be fifteen years ago. Sure, Josh Sullivan, good Mathematician. A little weak on logic. He went to school somewhere in California.”
    “That’s him. Made a bundle in electronics and is feeling philanthropic. He’s interested in funding a scholarship exclusively for East Plains’ students. He contacted me last week.”
    A smile crept up from her belly to her face. “Stephanie, Edmund, and Ali are candidates?”
    Freddy nodded. “I got them in here earlier this week, but I need to tell them they made the cut. Out of the baker’s dozen of students I sent to Sullivan, he’s winnowed it down to four finalists.”
    “You only mentioned three.”
    “The remaining finalist was in here yesterday, and I told him the good news.” Freddy hesitated, looking uncomfortable. “Our missing genius, Peyton Newlin, is the fourth.”

    BONNIE ARRIVED FIVE MINUTES LATE TO HER FIRST period, in time to catch her aide dropping the attendance slip into the wire door basket.
    Wide eyed, hands on her hips, Carlita Sanchez glared openly at Bonnie.
    “What?” she asked, knowing full well what was on the girl’s mind.
    “You were doing so good. Fourteen days in a row on time. And now.” She tapped a non-existent watch.
    “Don’t start with me, Carlita. I had a bad day yesterday followed by a worse night.”
    The Junior girl’s coffee-colored face darkened.