Makani muffled her ears with her fists. “Okay, enough. Stop it.”
Darby ducked his head, abashed. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. School shootings were real. With real murderers and real victims. Haley’s death felt one step removed from reality, because it didn’t seem like something that could happen to them. The crime was too specific. There must have been a reason for it. A horrible and misguided reason, but a reason nonetheless.
Makani turned to look at them, backpedaling the conversation in an attempt to downplay her reaction. “Well . . . Jessica didn’t do it.”
Alex raised her eyebrows. “Jessica?”
“Jessica Boyd. The understudy.” Makani rolled her eyes when Alex smirked. “I only know she’s the understudy because I heard somebody else say it. But can you honestly imagine her killing anyone?”
“You’re right,” Alex said. “That does seem unlikely.” Jessica Boyd was a delicate wisp of a thing. It was difficult to imagine her even flushing a dead goldfish. “But did you guys notice that Haley’s best friend didn’t come to school today?”
“Because Brooke is in mourning.” Darby was exasperated. “Like I would be if this happened to one of you.”
Alex leaned forward conspiratorially. “Think about it. Haley was one of the most talented students here. Everybody knew that she’d leave us for someplace bigger and better—Broadway, Hollywood. Whatever. She was the kind of person who should be totally stuck up, but . . . she wasn’t. People liked her. Which always means someone didn’t like her. Resented her.”
Makani’s nose wrinkled. “And you think it was her best friend?”
“No one even knew Haley,” Darby said, “unless they were in the drama club or Vocalmotion.” Vocalmotion was, regrettably, the self-chosen name of the show choir. Osborne High only had three respectable organizations: the drama and choral departments, which had a nearly one-hundred-percent overlap, and the football team.
It was Nebraska. Of course their school took football seriously.
“But that’s exactly what I’m saying,” Alex said. “Nobody else knew her. So doesn’t it make sense that one of her friends did it? Out of jealousy?”
“Should we be worried? Are you plotting to kill us?” Makani asked.
“Ugh,” Darby said.
Alex sighed. “You guys are no fun.”
“I believe I warned you this morning,” Darby said, “not to appear so excited.”
The wind picked up, and it shook a paper banner on the other side of the quad. An advertisement for Sweeney Todd. Each letter dripped with garish, hand-painted blood, and two long swaths of dark red tulle draped down from opposite corners like theater curtains. A gust heaved the tulle into the air, where it danced and writhed. Makani felt a chill touch her spine. Her name meant “wind” in Hawaiian, but she wasn’t superstitious about it. Except when she was. They should stop talking about Haley.
“It’s tactless,” she said, unable to help herself. She nodded toward the banner. “The Splatter Belt. Do you think they’ll cancel it?”
Alex swallowed the last greasy fry. “They’d better not. That was the first school function that I’ve ever planned on attending. Willingly,” she added. She was in the marching band, which meant she was forced to attend the football games.
Darby stared her down until she made eye contact.
“What? It seemed like fun,” she said. “Getting covered in fake blood.”
Makani snorted. “There’s that word again. Fun.”
Faux wistfulness spread across Darby’s face. “I remember when you used to collect plastic horses and Pokémon cards, and your life goal was to work for Pixar.”
“Lower your voice, dickpunch.” But Alex grinned.
A back-and-forth taunting of childhood hobbies and idiosyncrasies ensued, and Makani, as it so often happened, found herself excluded. Her attention waned, and her gaze drifted across the quad. It was almost time. Any minute now, and . . .
There.
Her heart plummeted as Ollie appeared from the depths of the locker bay to throw away an empty plastic grocery bag. This was his daily routine appearance. He always ate a packed lunch in an uninhabited nook behind the old lockers, and then he always disappeared into the main building. He would finish this hour in the library.
Makani felt a familiar pang of sorrow. Ollie was so alone.
A small group of football players stood beneath the Sweeney banner, blocking the entrance to the building. Her muscles tensed as Matt Butler—Osborne’s golden boy, its prize running back—said something as Ollie approached. Whatever it was, Ollie didn’t react. Matt said something else. Ollie didn’t react. Matt flicked his thumb and index finger at Ollie’s hair. His friends laughed, but Ollie still didn’t react. It was agonizing to watch.
A meaty guy with an absurd name, Buddy or Bubba, she thought, jumped up and snatched at the tulle, and the right half of the banner ripped and collapsed downward. He laughed even harder as Ollie was forced to duck, but the pleasure was short-lived.
Matt gestured angrily at the wreckage. “Hey, man! Show some respect.”
The outburst carried across the quad. It took Buddy or Bubba several seconds to make the connection between the ruined banner and Haley, but as his expression transformed from confusion into humiliation, he was faced with a choice—either admit to a wrongdoing or double down. He doubled down. Shoving Matt’s shoulder, he set off a furious chain reaction of even more shoving until they were no longer blocking the entrance.
The escalating action held the student body in rapt attention. Only Makani was staring elsewhere. Ollie still hadn’t moved. He’d kept it together, but it was clear that the football players had unnerved him. She was on her feet.
“No,” Darby said. “Makani. No.”
Alex shook her head, and her barrettes clicked against one another. “Ollie doesn’t deserve your help. Or pity. Or whatever it is you’re feeling right now.”
Makani smoothed the front of her hoodie. She was already walking away.
“You never listen to us,” Darby called out. “Why don’t you ever listen to us?”
Alex sighed. “Good luck, gumdrop.”
This thing—this unbearable weight and pressure—that had been boiling inside Makani for months was about to erupt. Ollie might not deserve her help, but she still felt compelled to try. Maybe it was because she wished someone at her previous school had helped her. Or maybe it was because of Haley, a horrific situation already beyond anyone’s help. Makani glanced back at her friends with a shrug.
When she turned forward, Ollie was staring at her. He didn’t look nervous or angry, or even curious.
He looked wary.