After the way the conversation went with Drake, I was a bit concerned to try again. But this felt like the only way to get some real answers and quell my own fears. Besides, aside from the murder, I really hoped that my former teacher didn't hold a grudge against me.

It's twelve in the afternoon on Saturday, and I wish I was doing anything else besides standing outside with the sun beating down on my face. We're standing on the corner of the street, near my former teacher's house. It's a small, seemingly single-story brick house. A cobblestone walkway leads to an arched doorway and a square wooden door, which has a welcome mat in front of it.

My eyes drift to the side of the road, where a blue car is parked in front. I recognize it from the school parking lot. I know I've seen my teacher get inside it.

"Maybe she's not home," I say for the millionth time. "She could have more than one car."

Zoe shakes her head. "How many single teachers do you know that can afford two cars, especially after losing their job?"

"Maybe a friend picked her up?"

"How early do you think she'd be going out on a saturday morning?" We rode our bikes over at eight in the morning, right after Mom made me breakfast. Unless she was up at the crack of dawn, or is away for the weekend, she should still be inside the house.

She also might not be planning to go anywhere today, another problem with our plans.

"This is a dumb idea," I mumble, adjusting my grip on the trash grabber thing Zoe found in her garage. We also brought plastic bags to complete the front that we're picking up trash around the neighborhood. So far, the only trash items that have made it are a couple granola bar wrappers, an empty box of cookies, and the plastic cups that held our ice lattes.

Wow, it's hot. I wipe my sweaty forehead, wishing for another cold drink.

"This was a bad idea," I say. "She's probably not coming out."

Zoe sighs and checks her phone. "Well, if she isn't out by four, we can leave."

I groan. "Zoe, that's four hours from now!"

"But we don't want to miss the opportunity to run into your former teacher."

Zoe is way more invested in this investigation than me.

At that moment, the front door swings open and my teacher strolls down the cobblestone toward her car at a fast clip. Zoe and I round the corner, bags in hand. My teacher's senses kick in, and she whirls around. Her surprised features settle out when she sees us, then return to surprised.

"Madelyn! What are you doing here?"

"Oh, hi Miss Laybrook," I say. "We were just picking up trash around local neighborhoods."

"How sweet of you both," Miss Laybrook says. Her features soften into sympathy. "I heard about what happened. I'm so sorry about Evan."

Based on the way she says it, she sounds sincere, like she knows I was the one who discovered the boy. Worry prickles at my skin, simply because I'm concerned that she might suspect me for the crime, but I try not to let it show.

"Yes, well, it helps to keep busy to keep my mind off everything." It's about as close to the truth as I'll get right now.

"And I believe it's Zoe, isn't it?" Miss Laybrook's red lips smile brightly, not at all like she dislikes us. "It's so nice to meet you. I remember Madelyn talking about you, Priya, and Autumn. I got the names right, right?"

Warmth singes my cheeks. I hope Zoe isn't weirded out that I talked about her and our other friends. "Yes."

"Of course. So glad to see you have a support network. Heaven knows it's needed in times like this."

"Did you know Evan too?" I ask.

Miss Laybrook shakes her head. "Sadly no. I heard he was a great kid though. I saw him in a play once though. He did a fabulous job in Les Miserable two years ago. And he was only a freshman at that time. Imagine all he would've accomplished." She shakes her head again.

"I... I don't mean to pry," I begin in a lowered voice, "but I was wondering if you were planning on coming back to school." Miss Laybrook tilts her head to the side. "You know, to continue working on better reactions to what I'm sensing."

"Oh," Miss Laybrook says, taken aback. She straightens, seeming a little less friendly. "No, I've permanently decided to leave the school staff."

I swallow, my throat dying for another sip of iced chai. Here goes nothing. "Do... do you think we could continue lessons outside of class?"

Miss Laybrook's eyebrows crease. "Like, through private pay tutoring?" I nod. "I-I don't know. I haven't given that much thought." Her fingers fiddle with the metal clasp on her clutch. "I'll have to get back to you on that."

"Of course. Yeah, that's totally fine." Part of me is surprised that she didn't shut down the idea on the spot. Then again, perhaps she's more sneaky than that. It's not a good look for her to treat me poorly. I don't know which is worse: open hatred or silent despising. Not knowing is probably harder because all I can do is speculate on intentions I'll never know for certain, breeding mistrust and mixed signals.

"Well, it was good seeing you two." Miss Laybrook smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her hazel eyes. "I'm running out to the store. Feel free to drop by again some time." She gets inside her car, and the door clicks behind her. The engine hums to life, and moments later, she's zooming past houses, out of sight.

"At least she was cool about chatting with us," Zoe says.

"Yeah," I say. "But to be honest, doesn't something feel a little bit off?"

"Like what?"

"Like how she knew so much about Evan having never met him before? She remembers him from when he was a freshman, though she says she doesn't know him."

Zoe shrugs. "She knew about me."

"Yeah, because I talked about you. Either she has a fantastic memory, or she's not letting on to the fact that she actually knew Evan before he died."

"You may be onto something," Zoe says. "We also need to find out why she was fired. By the way she talked about it, it sounded like she chose to leave, not the other way around."

"For sure. I noticed that too. But she's not going to tell us the true reason why she left."

"We definitely can't ask," Zoe agrees.

"We need real answers about what happened," I say, thinking out loud. "She seemed happy enough to see me, but she could've been faking it. We need to know why she was fired and which student she had a problem with."

"She could've even had a problem with Evan, hence why she might've killed him. Maybe there was a conflict between them that cost her her job," Zoe says. "But I'm afraid the only way to know for sure would be if we hacked into the school records." I shoot Zoe a look. "What? It's true."

"We are not breaking into the school or hacking anything."

Zoe shrugs. "It would give us answers. But sure, whatever you say."

As we walk down the street, we pass house after house. Most are pretty small, with a few two-story homes seemingly sprinkled in between the others. At the end of the cul de sac, a woman rushes out of a little, white stone house. She unlatches the wrought iron gate to her house, which is connected to a low, white stone wall that circles around her house. There's another fence that has wrought iron spokes, and I glimpse the sight of a lush garden, sparkling pool, and green grass landscape.

My head tilts to the side. How odd. It seems familiar. But maybe it's just because it reminds me of those magazine pictures of model houses.

I know why I recognize the woman, though. She's Evan's mother with the same blonde hair cut short and very similar facial features.

Zoe and I duck behind a bush nearby as Mrs. Barnes gets inside her minivan. A minute later, the gray van circles around the cul de sac and rumbles away. It grows smaller and smaller, a dot by the stop sign at the opposite side of the street. After a beat, she turns to the right.

"Mrs. Barnes lives here?" Zoe says. She emerges from behind the bush, and I follow, taking in the house. "Interesting. She lives at 1109 Marble Street."

"Okay, we seriously have to go. This is headed way too close to stalker territory," I say.

"Sure," Zoe laughs in agreement.

As we walk down the street, I glance back. Again, I'm struck with the same sense of deja vu. But this time, it's not just Mrs. Barnes' house giving me that vibe. It's the brick house beside it as well.